tiny cities made of ashes
#8
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indent Gabriel’s smile changed as she mentioned the crimes. It cracked, breaking into a half-mad grin not unlike his father or long-gone mother. The hybrid doubted that Corona would be the next to be buried. He expected that of Samael, who had staggered off into the wilderness. On that matter he had not yet breathed a word. “Can’t say I’ve ever stabbed anyone,” he said, leaning against the tree. “But if you want, we can go over basic defense and offense now. You usually stay like this, yeah?” One hand, the one bearing his stigmata, rose and gestured at her form.






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