September 15th, 2004


For thenowhere, not where I want it yet, but...

Funny thing is, stretching skin doesn’t hurt that much, starting out, going slow.

But cutting? Weird.
Cutting, starting out, going slow, the razor gliding softly against the skin;
It itches.

It’s odd, that itch.

You would expect pain and eventually that will come.
But this soft caress, the susurration of the steel through the tiny hills and valleys of your flesh, why would that itch?

C∂úlhúvi∂a, Chapter 7: Caught

This one is a little short, but I’ve waited too long, wanted to get a little more out before I travel.

I’ve just started a very wrong BBC fanfic that I’ll be making friends-only when I post it.

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Also, here’s an 18th century painting of the myth.