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Sunday, October 4th, 2020 10:35 am
floweryhedgehog: (Default)
Milya didn’t think her talent counted for much. Some mages could summon a storm with a song, make a thousand rainbows dance across the sky with one soaring note, held into eternity. Milya? She made socks for shepherds. Wove charms for safety into babbies’ blankets. Knit a shawl that would take away your granny’s cough. It wasn’t much, in comparison. Every time she’d finished a working in her apprenticeship, her master had said: Now you must teach these threads how to be one thing, one whole. A small child ran to her doorstep, leaving a loaf of fresh bread behind.
floweryhedgehog: (Default)
Every time the dragons came we fought them. And every time, they came back stronger. Now the sun glares red through an ashen sky, and each breath chokes me with the smoke of their burnings, the destroyed homes, the lost farms, the remnants of the dead. And my sword is grown too heavy, and my arms are grown too weak. So I watch it at a distance, flying lazy loops through the ruined sky, and I know it is vast, but from here it is like a sparrow. And I reach for my heavy sword. And I lift it up.

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