[ She draws her needle, or perhaps it's a nail, or it's the idea of a nail. A shimmering, pointed thing, the sharpest weapon in the world, able to cut away loss and fear, a plague, a god, walls and chains, burdens and duties.
It's only a weapon. The dream of a weapon, something made to cut and to kill. ]
no subject
It's only a weapon. The dream of a weapon, something made to cut and to kill. ]
Do you wish to be free?