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ProfLayton and the Forbidden Forest Prt.6Clive walked back into Luke's house,and time seemed to stop.
"Clive,where were you?I was getting worried."the professor asked curiously.
"Oh,uh,just out for a walk,Professor."Clive lied,but some part of that was true.
"Hm...so,what were you saying,Luke?"the professor said,resuming their conversation.
"Well,Professor,it's true what I said in that first letter I sent you.When we first moved in,strange things began happening.People started to disappear,and there was some sort of connection.All the people that disappeared had gone into the forest back there."Luke explained.Clive felt the back of his neck prickle.Could that somewhat explain the feeling of being watched?
"Something's not right in that forest,Professor.And,as I said in the letter,only the great Professor Layton and his apprentice can get to the bottom of it!"Luke said happily.
"Hey,what about me?"Flora asked,playfully pushing Luke.As they play-wrestled,Clive watched uncomfortably.First Luke barely says a word to him,then acts
ProfLayton and the Forbidden Forest Prt. 5RANDOM LUKE P.O.V.
Luke couldn't believe it.After two long years,Clive was back.The last Luke had saw of the criminal,he was being sent off to jail.But this time,something was different.There was no longer hatred,revenge and anger in his dark eyes.There was a difference,but Luke couldn't put his finger on it.The professor gazed into his apprentice's puzzled face.
"Something wrong,my boy?"
"Oh,uh,no,Professor.Just thinking."Luke replied,not wanting to share his feelings at the moment.Now it was the professor's turn to take a puzzled look upon his face.
"It's Clive,isn't it?"
Luke slowly nodded.
"Luke,promise me,he's changed.I can already tell."
"So do you trust him,Professor?"Luke prompted.There was a moment of silence.
"Not fully,but yes.I do trust him a bit."
"Professor,this is how we felt when we first met him when he was posing as the future me!He could easily turn on us again,and--"Luke argued,but was cut off.Not by sound,but silence.Something about the professor's glare told
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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