The Brittle King

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The blade feels awkward in my hands as I throw myself at my lover. He smiles slightly as he pushes me back and over, again. I’m frustrated and he’s gently amused by it. It takes time, I know. Mastery always takes time. In the meantime, I’m the cutest frustrated little fox-kit ever according to this overgrown bastard.

The wind comes through the archway, ice cold, and that’s the cue to take my leave.

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