It’s a little exposition-dense. A kink I’ll work out over the drafts to come. For now, since it’s been so long and I know you need something to live on—talking to you Dave—enjoy this bit of fiction from The Shill and the Purblind.
My mother was a slave, Idun Verdandi recited. My mother tried to hide me. She cared. She cared. She cared. My mother tried to steal me. She cared. She cared. She tried. She died. She died because she cared. She cared. She cared. My father did not care. He died just the same. She tried. She tried. They died.No one deprives the hēahcyning of his property. The high king is all. He is all. He is death. He is soon dead.
Idun knew one truth: In the cold of Ísigstān, the only way to truly keep warm was through hate. Having been born a…
View original post 1,041 more words