That gave Domon a moment's pause. She stroked the silk with her fingers, outlining the embroidered flowers, smiling, lost in thought. The only way they knew it was him was his head stuck on a spike over the fireplace. From the pit came the sound of men calling, the words indistinguishable.
She fell silent, hitching her cloak up. And what she would do when he did. He wished he could stop thinking, and before he realized it, the void had formed within him, making thoughts distant things, as if part of someone else. The core of him floated in emptiness.
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