| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - The bucket of water she dumped over her head to rinse was a pitiful imitation of a real storm -- lukewarm, slightly gritty, with the bitter alkali flavor that seeped from the cistern stones -- but for a minute she could almost feel Shikamaru's fingers running down her sides in the trails of water, feel his lips press against her temple in the brief ghost of steam.She took a very long bath.Kankuro
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