The Brass Nightingale
The tinkling sound of brass, a gunshot, a scream. The waft of overused perfume permeated the stage.
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“She was a specialized model.” Janus said more to himself. “She was given a ceramic shell with beautiful brass inlay. A delicate angel with a voice so well crafted.” Estevan could only look on at the mangled body. The chest cavity was ripped apart from the inside exposing the more modern machinery among the anachronistic decor. Most disturbing however was the throat. Thing metal wires and two tubes burst out piercing the throat in macabre ways.
“Its doubtful even if we repair her she’ll ever be the same. She was almost handcrafted by Dr. Meallán and after her passing I don’t think even her understudies could duplicate this much care.”
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