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Absently he brushed at the small scars on the back of his hand. Four small, perfect circles in the pattern of the tines of a fork; faded white and nearly invisible with time. The cost of manners, he supposed as he waited for her to leave the cemetery.
His father had always been so intent on manners and discipline.
A small smile formed on his lips as he thought that, cold and predatorily hungry. He had learned the lessons very well and with only those four inconsequential scars as the price. Anything else would never be seen, his father had been skilled and made sure that the lessons were swift and brutal and never known about.
His discipline had never cracked, not when he'd killed his father (for the lessons, naturally—he was still only a child with childish emotions and reactions). Not when he'd been brought before that wretched court of people who were intent on seeing him spend the rest of his natural life locked away. Not when the people had finally decided that it was b
Dead Man's SwitchIn control, then not -
Sudden loss of grip.
Headlong to where?
Details lost, smudged, streaked.
Careening; no system of
No dead man's switch,
On a fast track -
With or without a god?
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More