Sometimes, shutting out the darkness hurt so much that Zazrielle wished she could let some in. But her biology wouldn't allow it. The instant she did, it would reject it, which would be worse. She curled up.
k-ela-ino: “Laments of an Icarus The paramours of courtesans Are well and satisfied, content. But as for me my limbs are rent Because I clasped the clouds as mine. I owe it to the peerless stars Which.