Phoebus You eke a stuttering return out of a broken nightmare forest. As you were not fit for Shambhala, as your presence was not condign to to the mitigations of Heaven, you too were pushed down and away from the Redemption of the one who suffered beneath the Eyes. The path back is a bridge…
Tuesday, October 10, 1843
Father Massey, rising late from a whore’s night of overindulgence and self-guilt, was hesitantly shaving with a straight razor that Volkert was supposed to have sharpened for him. He was paused almost at the beginning of the process by his grief over the lost not only of Volkert, but of Bern. He stared at his…
