A late reblog in honour of #IWD2019.
Lorraine's frilly freudian slip
Pictus wanted only one thing on this raid – a small girl child for Fringa. She lost her second, and lay broken in spirit and body in Boron. Pictus was not sure she would still be alive. He tired to be first in, scanning for life amid the carnage. On the last day, he saw Veiten slap some small thing, then raise his arm to stab.
“No!” bellowed Pictus, blocking the blow, sure that a small child was the source of Veiten’s ire. A tiny girl child, one eye amethyst the other obsidian looked up at him. Reaching for her, she stabbed his hand clean through with a small knife. Exactly the one, he thought, fluidly grabbing the girl child, scooping her few belongings, and up onto his horse. Veiten’s hand was bleeding – “She is a devil child, Pictus”, he spat. “Be wary what you are take home to…
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I'm listening . . . . . .