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August 4 - August 12, 2024
“Pity can be a powerful tool. Anytime you can make someone else feel something, you’ve got power over them.” “I…guess?”
“Don’t you ever listen to me? I’m a sweet, innocent little girl. I ain’t going to talk about bollocks and jiggers and stuff. I’m not crass.”
It was good to remember that life wasn’t only about scratchy things. Sometimes it was about soft pillows, fluffy cake. Nice words. Mothers.
The woman looked up at Lift. “He’s right about that, um…” “Say it,” Lift said. “Your Pancakefulness.” “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”
Lift chewed on her pancake.
“The Stump,” Lift said. “Meanest thing. Eats the bones of children for afternoon snack. Once had a staring contest with a painting and won.”
“Thanks,” Lift said, giving the woman a hug. “Thanksthanksthanksthanks.”
“I am going to my assigned station now. You’d be wise to seek shelter.” “Surewillgreatbye,” Lift said,
“Oooookay,” Lift said. “Um, you can be crazy all you want. It’s fine. I like crazy people. It’s real funny when they lick walls and eat rocks and stuff. But before you start dancing, could you tell me where those other two are going?”
“But you,” the thing said, “did not come for a contest, did you? We watch the others. The assassin. The surgeon. The liar. The highprince. But not you. The others all ignore you…and that, I hazard to predict, is a mistake.”
If you ever encounter another of the Sleepless, tell them you’ve spoken with Arclo. I’m certain it will gain you sympathy.”
When one achieves immortality, one must find purpose beyond the struggle to live, as old Axies always said.”
Lift scrunched up her face at the woman, then thrust her hand to the side and summoned Wyndle in the shape of a large, shimmering, silvery fork. A Shardfork, if you would. She stabbed him into the pancakes,