❝There is a startling polarity between the wills of Gods and men.❞ There is a note of casualness in the cosmic contralto of her speech, which flows like wine from her songbird’s mouth, unpunctured by emphasis. Her cyclops’ gaze is at once alert with fascination yet muted by the slumberous quality of boredom as it moves from its admiration of the black Heavens above to focus, unwavering, on her companion. ❝Whose will is crueller, do you think?❞
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