When that chill crept over not his skin, but his aura, he stood, hand extended until the familiar cool of leather and weight of metal pressed against his palm. His dagger glinted in dim lamplight and he watched for movement he knew would come.
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I forged myself from a wreckage of stars.
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When that chill crept over not his skin, but his aura, he stood, hand extended until the familiar cool of leather and weight of metal pressed against his palm. His dagger glinted in dim lamplight and he watched for movement he knew would come.
| · fearherself · |
It hits her in the head and she stares up at it with both eyes as the blade wobbles in the bone and then drops to the...
