
When the folk first take her, Aoife falls to her knees and throws up. "That shouldn't happen," Saorise notes, voice melodic and mirthful. She says it like an observation - faintly interested, fairly cruel. "You filled my drink with nettle," Aoife rasps. She drags a hand over her mouth, feels it come away stringy and sorrowful. The taste of being human lies nauseous on her tongue. "What did you think would happen?"Todos os Direitos Reservados
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