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P53 - Sentenced V, The RoomBound by chains
and whispers of death.
Slowly they fell,
there would be none left;
he had stood very still,
and moved not a limb,
as their lives they did lose,
the future they left him.
'Guilt', said the voice,
and asked him his name,
they asked him his past;
they were playing a game.
But the game he would win,
the reason quite quaint;
he knew nothing much,
and would never again.
'I wonder if I will ever remember you.'
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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