“You took the poetic way out and used a black vestal’s last-choice gambit: you opened a vein and, trembling neither from pain nor blood loss, daubed blind upon your skin the sacramental skull of the Inglorious Mask.” - Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
this sucks so bad i need to [remembers that The Work relies upon my continuance and i may not end my own life through suicide or through carelessness] blow up the saint of duty
this sucks so bad i need to [realizes that i have been given a terrible hand to play the game with and yet I have also been handed the first genuine choice of my life; the only choice ever given where i had the free will to say no, and the free will to say yes] continue The Work
