>>6260817

You grit your teeth. You wouldn’t have thought that the flame of righteous anger could lit you up after desperation left you in the cold.
Just a few hours ago you wandered in the shade of Bragia’s memories. You were embracing Rubida and kissing her, and you kissed Soralisa too—
The dire news seemed to bring to a solution, if far and hard to grasp.
Now you are on your knees, naked on the cold floor, and this — this bitch — dares to use the name of Ansàrra to taunt you?
You who walked on a tight rope for days upon days, with Rosandra’s gaze pointed at your neck, about to skewer you like a pig?
And she admitted she was in the wrong. While Astoria is showing a level of rot in her soul that you wouldn’t have believed possible in a Blessed Blind of her calibre.
Seen from afar, everyone in the Holy Land seemed so perfectly aloft in their sanctity, in their hallowed existence.
You have danced with them, at the Festival. You have laughed with them — and then Priests have deemed you heretical, and Astoria is using this to imprison Master and put you on trial and— and—
And Ansàrra doesn’t answer to you anymore.
And Willow is out there, with the Worm inside her, doing fates-know-what to her, and the sky feels like creaking, and there monstrous births and your friends are alone — and you should be out there tanning Willow’s plump butt raw with to teach her a lesson, not staying here to play some game you do not care about!
Master was right in this as well: despicable and loathsome politicians, the lot of them!
Since when has the illness of Frigéia infected the very heart of the Holy Land?
Rosandra was perhaps right in her firmness. If you ever meet her again you might compare notes but for now—

[cont.]