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Kin-strife for Christmas
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From the wharf, Anduin gleams like crystal in sun’s long light. The river runs slow; the air is heavy with its own stillness. From Rath Tirin to The Bottle, to Violin Street, guardsmen make rounds and arrests. The afternoon heat’s a dizzying blood-letter:

“Piss-locked, caste-crossed, monkey-holed – ”

“Sheet-wearing, dirt-faced, fork-tongued –”

“Feckless, cock-strutting, tall-leg, Elf-spit – ”

“– Longneck filth-eating –"

“ – sweetstink, horseshit-selling – ”

“ – Ship rat, cloud-headed, Sunset sea-swillers– ”

“ – swine-porking defilers of–”

“ – cookied sons of whores!”

“Moon-brained bastards,” Haldarion mutters, as they pass a knot of Northmen. “Choke them with their own pendants!”

Ambarin just sighs.


Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork, hole, lock, sheet, pendant, crystal, cookie, letter

A/N: All hail, Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing", and the power of the hyphen.


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