[The feed cuts on abruptly as the phone hits the ground, giving an nice view of the morgue floor. Just as the sound of plastic being ripped/cut open is heard and someone sitting up.]This one in a place of grey and metal, yet before it was dark and fading vistas. Yet, fully not is it all undone as pieces glitter like in the sun. The dream did fade,
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[Faramir could not hope to guess what she was - if a member of any of the races of Middle-earth had been wounded in such a way, they would not have been able to speak to the living again - but she was a prisoner, as he was. If he could not offer comfort, he could at least tell her the truth.]
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A dreamer dost speak and claims of none that the twinning of Elysium is here. Why such an odd birdcage for those who can not fly? Are we to be puppets to a new master?
[And she doesn't really wait for an answer as she pokes at her wound, and actually attempts to use one hand to fit the pieces back together.]
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My lady, you need the aid of a healer.
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[Blank look]
Movement is still an act in which I can perform, that which can bind and seal the cracks is all that is needed to keep the tides back.
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This one strives to mend the seams, yet tasks do not bade completion with simple wish and command.
[Especially when you're piecing yourself back together as she's doing with some of the pieces on the table. Maybe if she makes it one big piece it'll be easier to glue back on to her.]
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[What is this tact you speak of Carver? Dusk would like to learn it.]
This one be of glass and thread, a doll without a puppet masters whim.
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