Ruthsic

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As a dream-form, I cut my way through the overgrown poppy anemones, searching for any clue, any difference. Dusk had fallen in my mind. The flowers tangled around my knees, brilliantly red beneath the night sky. Each petal was edged with chartreuse light, as if my mind was bioluminescent.
The Mime Order (The Bone Season, #2)
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