Warning-corrupt data in file! Continue? Y/N
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“no . . .” the whisper tears itself from your throat, “why would they.”
The capsul in your hand continues its Eldish message inexorably [ . . . force penetrated the entire heath the first day. there has been no leak in the cordon, so we must assume that cornu losses must be heavy. a council is being convened to discuss disciplinary/punitive . . .]
“FUCK disciplinary!” you snarl, throwing the delivery capsul across the desk. It rebounds and lands on a shelf, tucked between an enemy spirit pouch and a large spiral-shell pendant. You gather your implements of aether and ether manipulation. There is only one image in your mind: Irga, laughing at your clumsy jokes, teaching you to make love, learning the nature of the universe with you, leaving for a short visit with her clan now of all times . . .