You were frozen as Augustine carefully, thoughtfully, and with a great deal of intent, put his mouth on God’s mouth. As though this were not fodder enough for the coming apocalypse, Mercymorn stood, swaying; one thin dress strap was sliding precariously off her shoulder. When Augustine detached from the Emperor’s solemn mouth, Mercy reached up, grabbed great fistfuls of his shirt, and kissed God too.
Holy shit
