[ Through a window, (how he'd managed to knock the locusts aside, don't ask) the device records a dark, almost black sky. His voice comes from beyond the image. ]
It's nine in the morning, by the by. And darkness is usually the ninth day. I had thought all this talk of slaughtering the conveniently placed lambs to be a touch rushed, but it does
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He would hate this. I don't like it either of course.
Thank you.
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Demeaning. They pull strings and we move. It's like---
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Xanadu seems to have remained unaffected. Patrolling for nothing. Of course, it could just be a trap.
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It would be different if we didn't have anything to go back to.
Well, for some of us.
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