[ the light goes out in time with her flicker of offense. why is it always little? it reminds her of mal, and buried there is a bitterness. not one letter. she drops her hands to her sides.
in the wake of the glow, the rest of what he's said filters in. six more careers. he has no idea. it could be more, were grisha not slaves to the king in the second army, if she really were as long-lived as kirigan. and it will be none if nothing is done for grisha. one job, as a lighthouse and court prop and slave to the black heretic. ]
no subject
[ the light goes out in time with her flicker of offense. why is it always little? it reminds her of mal, and buried there is a bitterness. not one letter. she drops her hands to her sides.
in the wake of the glow, the rest of what he's said filters in. six more careers. he has no idea. it could be more, were grisha not slaves to the king in the second army, if she really were as long-lived as kirigan. and it will be none if nothing is done for grisha. one job, as a lighthouse and court prop and slave to the black heretic. ]