Frollo and Iris [Notre Dame De Paris]

Once upon a time there was a little man named Frollo. He stayed alone in his church. He was not interested in anything except his faithful faith. One day, he discovered that there had been a heavy rain, and clusters of irises were moistened in the stone crevices of his church. They were constantly entwining, circling, and dancing, clinging to the vicissitudes of the oil painting. These iris flowers turned into a little girl with long fiery red hair and beautiful dancing posture. She timidly knocked on Frollo's heart door, "Hello, can I come in?" Absolutely not! Red is the color of the devil. He thought to himself, seeing the little girl bursting into tears again, "But it's so dangerous outside!" From then on, Frollo opened the door of his heart to the little girl. In the cold stone statue, the interior and exterior of the church were covered with bunches of lively and lively iris flowers. The breeze blew by, and patches of green swayed in the wind. The church bells melodiously sounded, startling the tired birds in the dense forest. Frollo finally welcomed the hope of flowers in his mind. Note: For the love of generating electricity and the idea of self-produced food, I will first lock the text and revise it, and work hard to expand the ing (see you in 3 days!) 1V1, private as a mountain, maximum sweetness, double place (A little cutie said before that there was not enough food, so the quick travel story will appear in the author's column as an independent short story. Friends who are interested in the setting can move on after the novel is completed. This article will be left to Mosha and the bishop for now) Intention: You are on my voyage, I am in your sight