kaz ruby 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

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It was ridiculous of her to have ever entertained the idea. Ridiculous to spend years harboring secret hopes of playing women cursed, only to become one herself. Only, in her tale of woe, there was no breathtaking pas de deux. No roses at her feet. No thunderous applause. Only silence, unbearable and unending.
I Am Made of Death
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