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We Shall Drink Wine by Andrew K. Hoe
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#s:specfic
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Until then, there is Fate Cutter, weeping the blood of an old love, sharp and silent. There is poisoned wine in a celadon cup, not unlike the Elixir of Immortality the queen-wife drank. There is this cold, cold moon to which the queen-wife ascended only to find that bone-white home infested—this moon whence our kind came, the endless beyond-dark we do not sing to, lest it tear out our throats with loneliness.
1 month ago
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