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At her core, she is not meant for greatness. Not like she wants, not like how she so desperately craves. It brings out the worst in her. Something carnal, something rageful. It bears her opaque, fragile heart, caved in by the sharp ribs she filed into pikes. And it burns so intensely she believes it to be what made her so great. But Astrid Odinsdottir lives a lie like she always has. Like she always will.
Astrid Odinsdottir / Rage is a heavy burden
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