You can tell what used to be was beautiful. What scraps of skin that remain seem fair, without blemish. Metal smooth and reflective. Her hands claw at her face, grooves line it where countless passes had occured, begging to breach through and physically grab the pain. Now her eyeless head snaps to you, a feral growl as she stands. Y-you made me this way...If I break you will the feelings go away? Retorical, her posture and tone leave no doubt of her intent as she bares her teeth
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1ҜΠΣLL
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22/03/2025