he's my friend.
no
The beings quivered as they spoke, the outlines of their bright but defined bodies shaking as if with every word they were plucking themselves like a guitar string.
that was
They pulled my shadow upwards, all of their arms reaching forwards to grab him by his throat. At his heels there was a mass of flesh and bone and blood, distorted and twisted by the flickering light of the citizens of the night, the Nightlanders. As they pulsed, soft whimpers escaped the thing that hung from my shadow's heels. It looked vaguely human, and I realized that under a steady light source it would be.
From my shadow's feet hung Nicholas Sundyr, Nyx to his family and friends. Standing where Nicholas once stood was a shadow who was convinced it was him, and was soon to be corrected. Pity, revulsion and grief filled me, and I failed to keep down vomit.
no
dancers are elegant you are
disgusting.
"i'm not a dancer," I shriek at the bright figures, and turn from them.
it's okay
we
will
help.
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