#Mark Pirro

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

A Polish Vampire in Burbank | 1983

the director's website: 🧛🏻‍♂️

[columbosunday]

A Polish Vampire In Burbank (1983) - Dir. Mark Pirro

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lis Power at MMFA:

Since the beginning of former President Donald Trump’s Manhattan criminal trial, Fox News figures and guests have repeatedly challenged the integrity of the judge presiding over the case, Juan Merchan. Throughout the duration of the trial, figures on Fox News have lobbed at least 220 such attacks at Merchan, suggesting that the judge has an anti-Trump bias so the “fix is in,” attacking his handling of the case as “supremely biased” and “severely compromised,” and claiming the judge should have recused himself.

The figures who launched the most attacks on the judge on the network were Hannity, followed distantly by host Laura Ingraham (12 claims), host Jeanine Pirro (11 claims), legal analyst Gregg Jarrett (10 claims), and host Mark Levin and contributor Leo Terrell (9 claims each). Notably, most of those figures host shows, and five out of the six have legal degrees.  The programs that pushed the most attacks on Merchan were opinion shows Hannity (52), The Ingraham Angle (26), and the network's weekday morning show, Fox & Friends (20). They were followed by so-called news-side show The Faulkner Focus (18) as well as weekend show Life, Liberty & Levin (13). While Fox personalities and guests issued the majority of attacks on opinion shows (150), they also impugned Merchan's impartiality 70 times on Fox’s so-called news shows. 

Media Matters For America details Fox “News”’s war on Judge Juan Manuel Merchan, the judge presiding over Donald Trump’s business records falsification trial.

[midwest-chainsaw-massacre]

Day six- horror movie I put them in the hot tub scene from A polish vampire in Burbank

I FUCKING LOVE MARK PIRRO MOVIES RAAAHH

Ooooo you wanna watch A polish vampire in Burbank sooo bad ooo you wanna watch it now ooooo

[beantothemax]

lil thing about throné’s chapter 1 fight that I really like is how Pirro starts of the fight by using ‘Hesitation’, but after you pass the half health mark and he makes his lil speech about needing to kill throné if he wants to be free, he uses “Resolution”, which makes his sprite lean forward and also gives him a permenant phys atk buff. Really cool how they showed off his reluctance and eventual acceptance of wanting to kill one of his only friends.

[eve6262]

now vs then

OT 2 SPOILERS // Throne and Father-centric, not ship (hopefully obviously).

Sometimes it’s hard to read Father.

Mother is obvious. She doesn’t bother hiding her emotions, because why should she? She’s the one with the whip, the one who makes the plans; her obvious glee makes her all the more frightening. Mother doesn’t care about that sort of thing.

But with Father, it’s harder.

The two of them are in one of the upper rooms of the den. Most Blacksnakes aren’t allowed up here, having rooms in other buildings across the New Delsta backstreets or something in the basement, but Father said she was special because of how young she joined them, so she lives in the den. The killing and crime she could do without, but a fluffy bed and pretty pictures are nice to come home to.

Father sits at the desk, though he’s turned around the chair so he can watch her practice her knife work. Every now and again he gives a pointer- “A little more momentum, less force-” and she complies. There’s a smile on his face.

His eyes are...harder to read.

There’s something that she thinks is supposed to be pride, in there. It’s probably to do with his own knife skills- second to none and killer of the most well-guarded targets, he’s certainly got reason to be proud of that. She’s gotten well enough into her own skills to understand how hard it is to fully master so many different blades and wield them as well as he does.

But something else is completely foreign to her. It’s not like the way his eyes glitter when he describes the fresh scent of blood, or the thrill of the kill. It’s not like the way his eyes haze over a little when he’s had one too many glasses of whiskey, and his voice gets a little raspier. It doesn’t even look like the time she mentioned that she liked talking to Pirro because he was nice to her, and he knelt down on her level and said, “If he ever tries something on you, you come tell me, okay?”

She, of course, said, “Why would I need to do that?”

And he laughed. And then looked her dead in the eyes and made her promise. Maybe it’s a personal thing.

It’s always a personal thing with the Blacksnakes.

Not for Throné, though. She likes Pirro, is friends with Scaracci and Donnie, but she doesn’t go out of her way to hate other people. Nobody’s ever done something so mean to her she wanted to hurt them. It’s never been personal. Maybe that comes with being barely twelve years old, maybe that comes with hating the smell of blood. She isn’t sure.

Not a lot of things are concrete aside from her collar. The way Mother’s temper flares at the slightest disgrace; what was courtesy yesterday is disrespect today. The whip marks may never truly heal from her skin, especially from that one incident with the blood.

She hated that.

But Father’s eyes had been something special.

That’s what it is now, she realizes. The second thing in his eyes. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing as when he bandaged her back after Mother whipped it bloody. She was only ten at the time, and her own eyes held tears she was trying furiously to hold back, but they simply wouldn’t have it. It’s been more than a year since then, and now she knows better. The tears will be stayed, or else Mother’s wrath gets worse.

It also gets worse when she doesn’t see tears, to be fair. There’s no winning in this house unless you’re Mother or Father. Or maybe one of the dealers at the poker tables.

Father makes a noise in her throat and she stops on instinct. Looks up to him- even sitting down he’s so tall- and walks over to her in that strange gait she’s heard Pirro call a ‘stalk’. “Good job, Throné.”

He pats her head. She closes her eyes and pouts, because now her hair is all messed up, and he laughs. But she does miss the warmth of his hand when he pulls it away. Still, she fixes the part around her eye, now out of place and hard to see through properly.

“Come on, then. I have some work to do. Do you wanna come with me?”

“...Okay,” she says, because accompanying Father on his work is better than staying in the den with just Mother. Even if there’s the smell of blood.

“I hoped you’d say that,” he says with a familiar glint in his eye, and beckons her along.

---

It took a while for her to figure out what that look in his eye meant.

She didn’t think about it even after he died. Even after the word “dad” spilt from her lips like the blood from his stomach, the life leaving him even as he held her hand and wanted nothing anymore but the love from a daughter he’d thought he’d lost. He had it, in the end. Claude didn’t get what he wanted, and neither did her true mother, and neither did Mother-

But maybe at least Father is happy in whatever hell he’s in. Happy that he got his daughter.

It took a long, long while. But she finally saw it again.

In Osvald’s eyes.

Elena has apparently discovered some huge conspiracy within whatever organization controls the labeling of soulstones. Naturally, Osvald agreed to accompany her, and Throné was bored, so she decided to tag along. In secret, because Elena is a nice girl and Osvald’s daughter shouldn’t be caught mingling with thieves.

He’s probably noticed her by now, though.

She’s ranting about something or other. It sounds remarkably less like the man himself and more like Partitio rambling about whatever new invention he’s discovered, excited almost more than Ochette catching a whiff of good meat. The look in her eyes is soft but determined, a combination she’s never seen before but wants to associate with pure-hearted children.

Osvald is of course proud of his daughter. It’s in his eyes- pride, and what she can now safely define as affection.

It’s almost unfathomable to think it was in Father’s eyes.

Almost.

Because wasn’t that what it was all about? Mother cared for nothing, Claude dispassionate, Pirro setting aside whatever reservations he had in search of luxury. But Father was nothing like any of them. He told her where to go, gave her a warning but knew she’d follow because he never cared about this game. None of it- not the garden, not the tests, nothing.

He wanted a daughter. And Claude took that away from him. So he hid, and bid his time, and knew that the only thing that could get him his daughter was his skills with a blade, and so he used them. And then, when he had her, he realized:

What did he have to give her?

The answer wasn’t much. A life of crime. Of death. That she didn’t enjoy, he must’ve realized. That fateful day, when he asked if she liked the smell of blood, and she asked for the raspberry jam she loved back home. He’d given her some, but looked contemplative as he stared out a window. Perhaps he forgot, in all his quest for the things he wanted, that not everyone was as bloodthirsty as he was.

And yet he tried anyway. He did, in the end, give her the one thing she wanted- her freedom. With Father alive, there could be no freedom, even if he had simply handed over the key. He knew the truth- the spiraling, awful, toxic truth. He knew the Lostseed tale and the man who presided over a fallen kingdom.

It was a gift to him, too. A chance to finally leave the hell of a cesspit that was life for him- a wife taken, his daughter raised into this awful cycle, having to deal with Mother as a cohort.

“Father. Wherever you are...”

She starts down the path, realizing that Elena and Osvald are gone. She’ll catch up. She always does.

“I hope you’re happy.”

--

this is pretty short and really only has me as the target demographic so I thought I'd post it on tumblr instead of ao3 if you want me to post it on ao3, leave a comment and I'll post it though, I get not wanting to read your fanfiction on tumblr lmao

~Eve6262

[garudabluffs]

"Trumps Criminal Associates from A to Z”

Donald Trump, Melania Trump, Donald Trump Jr., Ivanka Trump, Eric Trump; >>> Greg Abbott, Ali Alexander, Samuel Alito, Rick Allen, Brian Babin, Jim Banks, Steve Bannon, Kathy Barnette, Bill Barr, Tom Barrack, Maria Bartiromo, Glenn Beck, John Bennett, Andy Biggs, Dan Bishop, Christina Bobb, Lauren Boebert, John Bolton, David Bossie, Kevin Brady, Mike Braun, Mo Brooks, Taylor Budowich, Ted Budd, Aileen Cannon, Madison Cawthorn, Tucker Carlson, Matthew Calamari, Kenneth Chesebro, Andrew Clyde, Jeffery Clark, Robert Cheeley, Chris Christie, Chris Collins, Susan Collins, James Comer, Kellyanne Conway, John Cornyn, Thomas Bryant Cotton, Kevin Cramer, Dan Crenshaw, Steven Crowder, Raphael Edward Cruz, Ken Cuccinelli, Warren Davidson, Louis DeJoy, Carlos DeOliveira, Ron DeSantis, Betsy DeVos, Lou Dobbs, Byron Donalds, John Eastman, Larry Elder, Jenna Ellis, Michael Ellis, Tom Emmer, Boris Epshteyn, Julie Jenkins Fancelli, Nigel Farage, Tom Fitton, Harrison Floyd, Michael Flynn, Matt Gaetz, Bob Gibbs, Newt Gingrich, Rudy Giuliani, Louie Gohmert, Sebastian Gorka, Paul Gosar, Trey Gowdy, Lindsey Graham, Charles Grassley, Mark Green, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Ric Grenell, Kimberly Guilfoyle, Alina Habba, Harriet Hageman, Misty Hampton, Liz Harrington, Nikki Haley, Scott Hall, Sean Hannity, Josh Hawley, Jody Hice, Hope Hicks, Thomas Homan, Richard Hudson, Duncan Hunter, Laura Ingraham, Kay Ivey, Ronny Jackson, Jim Jordan, Mike Johnson, Ron Johnson, Alex Jones, Fred Keller, Keith Kellogg, Mike Kelly, Bernard Kerik, Charlie Kirk, Kim Klacik, Kenneth Klukowski, Jared Kushner, Trevian Kutti, Tomi Lahren, Kari Lake, Cathleen Latham, Bill Lee, Mike Lee, Stephen Lee, Mark Levin, Corey Lewandowski, Christopher Liddell, Mike Lindell, Billy Long, Barry Loudermilk, Cynthia Lummis, Nick Luna, Nancy Mace, Paul Manafort, Roger Marshall, Thomas Massie, Douglas Mastriano, Angela McCallum, Kevin McCarthy, Mitch McConnell, Ronna Romney McDaniel, Kayleigh McEnany, Johnny McEntee, Mark Meadows, Molly Michael, Chris Miller, Jason Miller, Stephen Miller, Barry Moore, Steven Mnuchin, Rupert Murdoch, Greg Murphy, Heather Nauret, Waltine Torre Nauta Jr., Peter Navarro, Carl Nichols, Kristi Noem, Ralph Norman, Oliver North, Devin Nunes, Bill O’Reilly, Candace Owens, Stefan Passantino, Kash Patel, Dan Patrick, Rand Paul, Ken Paxton, David Perdue, Scott Perry, Rick Perry, Mike Pence, Judge-Jeanine Ferris Pirro, Mike Pompeo, Erik Prince, Vladimir Putin, Sidney Powell, Kim Reynolds, Karrin Taylor Robson, Michael Roman, Chip Roy, Marco Rubio, Anthony Sabatini, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, George Santos, Steve Scalise, Dan Scavino, Rick Scott, Tim Scott, Jeff Sessions, David Shafer, Ben Shapiro, Bill Shine, Kyrsten Lea Sinema, Ray Smith lll, Victoria Spartz, Sean Spicer, Todd Starnes, Elise Stefanik, William Stepien, Shawn Still, Roger Stone, Jason Sullivan, Clarence Thomas, Virginia (Ginni) Thomas, Tommy Tuberville, Mike Turner, James David (JD) Vance, Herschel Walker, Kelli Ward, Jesse Watters, Allen Weisselberg, Matthew George Whitaker, Susan Wiles, Ben Williamson, Chad Wolf, Lin Wood, Todd Young…Just to name a few. “Vote Blue in November: In numbers too big to rig, in numbers too real to steal….

381 Comments https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SY8rIL3xUKc

[azspot]

Remember, Fox hires some angry shouters -- Mark Levin, Jeannine Pirro -- but its big prime-time stars are generally people the audience is supposed to read as reasonable. Sean Hannity doesn't yell. Tucker Carlson persuaded his audience that he was just asking questions, and was genuinely upset because his very deep research told him that the answers weren't what the authorities said they were. Bill O'Reilly is best known to lefties for shouty clips, but he delivered most of his monologues in a soft baritone voice, which was meant to suggest that when he did get angry, it was in response to something really awful.

No More Mister Nice Blog

[mywifeleftme]

157: The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band // "Born Into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward."

"Born Into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward." The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band 2001, Constellation (Bandcamp)

22 years ago Montreal’s other iconic prodigiously-membered post-rock band released their second LP. It’s not easy keeping all of these pro-Zion-but-not-Zionists straight, so I’ve helpfully listed and ranked each of the musicians who have passed through this constantly shifting collective from first to least-first. Let’s go!

Members of A/The/e Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band, Ranked

1. Mike Garson - piano 2. Annie Clark - guitar, keyboards, backing vocals 3. Brian Teasley- percussion 4. Daniel Hart - violin 5. Szabolcs Szczur – accordion 6. Davey 'Crabsticks' Trotter – Mellotron 7. Timothy Matthews – mbira 8. Buffi Jacobs – cello 9. Bach Norwood – piano, keyboards, backing vocals 10. Harriet Ballance - triangle, backing vocals 11. Japhy Ryder – floristry 12. Stuart "Peebs" Peebles – piccolo 13. Chandler Petrino – natural horn, oboe 14. Jared Pechonis – theremin 15. Toby Halbrooks - theremin 16. Corn Mo - backing vocals 17. Patrick Hewitt – theremin 18. Darin Hieb – trumpet, backing vocals 19. Rachel Woolf – flute 20. Mark Beardsworth – claviola 21. Allen Halas – percussion 22. Edwin Mendoza – viola 23. Todd Beaupré – vibraslap 24. Thaddeus Ford – trumpet 25. Paul Deemer – trombone, trumpet 26. Mike St.Clair – trombone, synth effects 27. Josh Guyer – trombone, spoons 28. Chris Curiel – trumpet 29. Heather Test – French horn 30. Victoria Arellano – classical harp 31. Sean Redman – violin, mandolin 32. Kelly Test – percussion 33. Mike Mordecai – percussion 34. Jason Garner – drums 35. Audrey Easley – flute, piccolo, EWI 36. Rick G. Nelson – viola 37. Nick Groesch – piano, keyboards 38. Keith Hendricks – percussion 39. Evan Hisey – keyboards 40. Dylan Silvers – guitar 41. Daniel Hart – violin 42. John Lamonica – percussion 43. Marcus Lopez – percussion 44. Matt Bricker – trumpet, synth effects 45. Taylor Young – percussion 46. Joe Butcher – steel drum 47. Evan Jacobs – piano, keyboards 48. Todd Berridge – viola 49. Nick Earl – guitar 50. Evan Weiss – trumpet 51. Jay Jennings – trumpet 52. Tamara Brown – violin 53. Merritt Lota – steel drums 54. Daniel Huffman – guitar 55. Timothy Blowers – harp 56. Anthony Richards – steel drums 57. Louis Schwadron – French horn 58. Andrew Tinker – French horn 59. Nick Wlodarczyk  – trombone 60. Paul Gaughran – flute 61. Isabelo Cruz – French horn 62. Bryan Wakeland – drums 63. Hayley McCarthy – viola 64. Dave Dusters – percussion, backing vocals 65. Billy Mills-Curran – flute 66. Logan Keese – trumpet 67. Ricky Rasura – classical harp 68. Tonya Hewitt – banjo 69. Daniel Poorman – slide whistle 70. Andy Parkerson – clarinet 71. Joseph Singleton – viola 72. Jenelle Valencia – violin 73. James Reimer – trombone 74. Regina Chellew – guitar, trumpet, backing vocals 75. Ryan Fitzgerald – guitar, backing vocals 76. Cory Helms – guitar, backing vocals 77. Jessica Jordan – backing vocals 78. Jenny Kirtland – backing vocals 79. Kristin Hardin – backing vocals 80. Elizabeth Evans – backing vocals 81. Neil Smith – backing vocals 82. Julie Doyle – backing vocals 83. Christine Bolon – backing vocals 84. Natalie Young – backing vocals 85. Constance Dolph – backing vocals 86. Elizabeth Brown – backing vocals 87. Apotsala Wilson – backing vocals 88. Jennie Kelley – backing vocals 89. Roy Thomas Ivy – backing vocals 90. Jamey Welch – backing vocals 91. Ethan Voelkers – backing vocals 92. Mark Pirro - bass 93. Frank Benjaminsen – backing vocals 94. Stephanie Dolph – backing vocals 95. Jennifer Jobe – backing vocals 96. Mike Elio – backing vocals 97. Kelly Repka – backing vocals 98. Jason Rees – backing vocals 99. Jeneffa Soldatic – backing vocals 100. Michael Turner – backing vocals 101. Don Congeler – backing vocals 102. Michael Musick – backing vocals 103. Melissa Crutchfield – backing vocals 104. Sandra Powers Giasson – backing vocals 105. Paul Hillery – backing vocals 106. Stephen Dix – backing vocals 107. Jessica Berridge – backing vocals 108. Melisma MacDonald – backing vocals 109. Ross Cink - backing vocals 110. Lucy Williams - choreography 111. Josh David Jordan – backing vocals 112. Brad Butler – backing vocals 113. Jason Rees – backing vocals 114. Andrew Aldenenotti – backing vocals 115. Getting hit by a bus wearing a flowing white robe 116. Tim DeLaughter - vocals, guitar, piano

Hold on. I’ve just received word that these musicians are actually members of some other band? Apologies for the confusion!

157/365

[floopers]

Snake in the Light

Series: Octopath Traveler II Pairing: Throné/Castti Word count: 8028 Rating: T Summary: What did she know of warmth? Snakes were cold-blooded; they sought for warmth that they did not have. Throné would slither on the ground in the shadows for the rest of her life, seeking what she could not have.

[AO3]

thought a little more about castti's story a bit and thought of the idea of throné and castti meeting pre-canon and decided to run with it

SOME SPOILERS for Throné's story and also references to certain things you only learn at the end of the game

"The target is still alive."

Throné slowly turned to Father. Though her expression betrayed nothing, even she couldn't hide the disbelief in her voice. "What? How? We saw him drink the poison." She had seen Donnie slipping it in into the target's cup while she distracted them. A strange immunity, then?

Father rubbed his chin. "We got unlucky. An apothecary saved him in the nick of time."

Throné frowned. The poison they used was lethal within a day as to be untraceable, and once it acted, it moved fast. Minutes were all an apothecary had if they were trying to save someone, if they knew exactly what it was in the first place. There should have been no chance for saving... and yet.

"Eir's Apothecaries... they're making quite the name for themselves. If people like them are running around, we'll have to lay low for a while. Or..." He smiled as he flipped a knife in the air, catching it with his hand as easily as though he tossed a pen instead, "we'll have to teach them a lesson."

"No," Throné said immediately. "It'll be too obvious," she added when Father looked at her.

"... you're right. I guess we'll have to go back to good old knives for now. Can't fix a heart with a hole, right?" Father laughed as if he made a joke. Throné remained silent. Better for him to think that. "Still, you've failed your mission. Mother will be displeased," he finished, and left her with that warning. Throné watched him go and took a deep breath afterward. Pirro had offered her and Donnie some expensive wine he managed to get his hands on tonight, but it looked like she needed to postpone her plans.

And hours later, she staggered through the dark alleys, the lashings still fresh on her skin. She'd been extra rough tonight, not that it mattered to Throné. Mother had ordered the other Snakes to keep her from returning to her room so she couldn't lick her wounds in peace as more punishment. Her back ached and throbbed, more uncomfortable than painful at this point. She knew she could hide at Pirro's but if anyone found out, he'd be punished too. The last thing she wanted was to owe anyone a favor, even Pirro... and Donnie would be hiding there already too anyway, for his part in being her partner. And Scaracci... he was always too nervous to keep his mouth shut.

Up on the roof, then. There, she would find peace. She... just had to get to it first. Throné moved through the alley before stopping to lean against the wall, grimacing slightly. How many days would it take to heal... she hoped Father did not give her any missions tomorrow.

"Miss? Are you okay?" A voice called out before she heard the sound of footsteps running down the alley. Throné froze up. The people here were used to the Snakes—they knew better than to willing approach her, not with the snake on her hand.

"Oh! You're hurt."

Throné looked over her shoulder to see who'd spoken. A woman she had never seen in the city before loomed over her—the concern in her eyes made Throné snap her own away. Being kind like that here only got people got killed. She hoped this woman was only visiting.

"Miss?" The woman crouched to her, blue sneaking into Throné's vision—

Blue. Throné glanced back.

The cloak the woman wore was blue, as blue as the sky itself.

Eir's Apothecaries.

... just her luck.

"... I'm fine, don't worry about me," Throné said, waving away the woman's hand. Mother's whip barely hurt but she needed to remember it left marks. The people who lived here were used to seeing them and knew to keep their distance from the Blacksnakes. This woman... she was new, and the reason Throné had these lashings in the first place. She didn't blame them—as Father said, they were simply unlucky. An assassin's job was to kill, and a healer's job was to heal. That was it.

"No, you should get that looked at." The apothecary reached into her satchel and pulled free several herbs. She set down her mortar and pestle and began to grind. Throné watched her for a moment, surprised that she had simply begun to mix her concoction without waiting for any word from Throné. This was the perfect chance for her to slip away though—

"Wait," the apothecary commanded.

Throné waited.

She watched as the apothecary crushed and grinded the herbs. It all looked the same to her but when she pulled certain ones out, the smell was pungent, made Throné wrinkle her nose. But underneath... she could smell it, the lingering stench of blood that no one could ever seem to erase no matter what. It followed this woman too.

But she was not the same as Throné.

"There we go." The apothecary stood up and gestured for Throné to turn around. "It might sting a bit with your wounds but it'll speed up the healing process and help keep it from getting infected."

Throné only looked at her, unable to fathom why this apothecary was going so far for a complete stranger who hadn't even asked for her help. She had only seen Throné staggering through the alley and come running over.

"Please, turn around. I only want to help you," the apothecary said, her voice soothing enough to almost convince Throné. But that meant she had to turn her back, show her back to this complete stranger who had every opportunity to put a knife into her instead. Perhaps this was an act; a good act, if Throné had ever seen one.

"No tricks, I promise," the apothecary spoke again, opening her palms even. "Would you like me to test it on myself first? I can do that as well." She rolled up one of her sleeves and there was a bandage on her arm. Before Throné could even speak, she had already taken out a small pair of shears and cut through it. "Had a run in with some of the ratkin outside before arriving," she explained plainly as if she were speaking about what she had eaten for lunch, but all Throné could do was stare, because what even was this woman doing? Underneath the bandage revealed red skin, the wound closed but still healing, also smelling strongly similar to what the woman had just made as well. She took some of the poultice and slathered it on carefully and then smiled up at Throné.

What was Throné to even make of this situation? Never had she had an apothecary demonstrate this in front of her. How could she even be sure the apothecary wasn't immune to whatever she had applied? But the fact that she was willing to go so far to show Throné that whatever she had made wasn't dangerous... Throné didn't know if she was brave or foolish. Both, most likely.

"Looks okay, I've made the right proportions," the apothecary muttered, examining her arm. She began to redress her wound as Throné tried to wrap her mind around the sheer bravado of this woman.

"Thank you for waiting, I needed to change the bandages today so that felt like a good opportunity as any." She smiled, as if she hadn't just done something outrageous and gestured for Throné to turn around. "Now, your turn please." And though Throné still felt that anxious put of showing her back to a stranger... she turned around.

The apothecary made a sound. Whatever it meant, Throné did not know. She was holding her breath, waiting, to see if she would live through this encounter, if she had fallen into some sort of trap. But instead of a knife she was still expected, she felt a hand. The apothecary's fingers were rough and callused, blunt nails scraping lightly against her skin as she slathered the balm, refreshing cool on her sore skin. Her lashings were still fresh though so Throné still winced.

And even so, it was the gentlest touch Throné had ever known. It came close to that same feeling... of when Father would pat her head when she was younger, when she was only as tall as his legs then... of the time before she'd been forced to kill.

She hadn't realized that she had no longer felt this... and that she even missed it in the first place.

"There!" The apothecary stepped back, and Throné realized a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Whatever she had put on though, the throbbing and ache seemed to have subsided for now. Throné rolled her shoulders, humming under her breath when she felt nothing.

"How is it?" the apothecary asked, and Throné looked away from that knowing look in her eyes.

"... all right," she answered.

"Not one for conversation, are you?" The apothecary smiled at her. "That's fine." She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small container. With a wooden spoon, she scooped the remaining poultice into it, twisting a cap onto it before handing the concoction over to Throné. "The most dangerous thing is inflammation and infection, you'll want to keep putting it on until your wounds feel better. You can have the rest."

Throné stared at it and then slowly back up at the woman. Apothecaries were just like any other jobs in the world, right? She would need to pay for this service. Throné didn't feel like she wanted to owe a favor to anyone, in any case. Perhaps this was why this apothecary ran to her, to render her aid onto Throné and extort payment from her. She reached into a pocket, grabbing her leaves—

"No, no, you don't need to worry about that." The apothecary reached out, taking her hand and putting the container inside, even curling Throné's fingers around it too. "Just think about getting better, all right?" She seemed to think to herself first before continuing. "I'm not sure how long I'll be in the area but if you run out, you can come to the inn." She smiled with a gentleness Throné had never seen on anyone here, her eyes crinkling slightly. "Just ask for Castti, and I'll be sure to remember you."

Throné watched her leave. She looked down at her hand, opening her hand to look at the container in her hand now. With a shake of her head, she staggered off, her back no longer aching.

Of course, her meeting reached Mother's ears. She always knew, somehow. She pulled Throné to the parlor again, forcing her to her knees in front of all the Blacksnakes. "A little snake hissed to me that you've received healing for your wounds. Were my lashings too rough for you, finally?"

Throné didn't answer, eyes trained on the floor. She had never risen to Mother's provocation and she wouldn't do so now.

"And not just any healing, but from the very same group that made you fail your mission!" The whip caught Throné across her back, over the same area she'd been struck.

Later, when she laid in bed, she held up the container she'd been given. When she opened it, a thick and pungent smell assaulted her nose. Reminded her exactly of apothecaries, really, the smell of herbs and healthy things. Smells that were markedly different than the filth of New Delsta.

"Just ask for Castti and I'll be sure to remember you."

"Castti, huh." Throné tested the name on her lips and laid her head back on the pillow. She had to lay on her front tonight. Her hand held onto the container tight, and she slept through the night.

———

"The hell's your problem, lady? I'll cut you up if you keep pushing me!"

Throné watched atop a roof, overlooking the lower levels. There was that apothecary—Castti—flagging down one of the Snakes, who now held his knife out toward her. Throné's fingers twitched. That particular Snake, he had a problem with his temper. Even Throné didn't like dealing with him for an extended amount of time.

Castti was entirely unfazed at his threats though, a wry smile on her lips even now. "Just allow me to patch you up before you do so, then. Your arm looks ready to fall apart!"

He gaped at her, more than taken aback. "What the hell's wrong with you? You've got a death wish?" He kept his knife held out toward her. Castti raised her hand—and he pointed it at her. "Get away from me!"

Without any fear, she slowly pushed his arm down and patted his hand as if she were merely soothing a child. "Just something for your arm. It'd be a shame if that got infected and you had to amputate it, right?"

He stilled, and Castti took that opportunity to apply the balm she already held in her other hand to him. It was different from the one she had made for Throné, a much different color. When she finished and let him go, he pulled his arm back as if he'd been burned instead.

"You should refrain from using that arm for a bit," she told him. "Feeling better though?"

He said nothing, only looked down at his arm and back up at Castti. He scowled at her but put his knife away.

"Thanks," he said and walked away without another word. Castti watched him leave, a smile on her lips somehow despite how rude he'd been.

What a strange apothecary, Throné thought. Apothecary, or person? She didn't know. There were apothecaries in New Delsta but most of them refused to treat them once they saw their tattoos, refusing to be involved. Some of the Snakes had learned on their own to treat each other with crude and rudimentary means, and that was it.

This apothecary... she made no distinction. If someone were in pain, she would run to them. Even when she saw the tattoo, she never wavered. Perhaps it was because she didn't live here, didn't know the true significance of that symbol. Maybe, if she learned, she would think otherwise. That other apothecary she traveled with, that white haired man, even he looked skittish when he saw their tattoos. Unlike her, he felt more like he would crumple to the ground if pushed. He treated them still but he did not have the unyielding strength that Castti did.

It took a certain amount of willpower to remain unflinching like that. Throné wondered how long Castti could keep at it.

Castti looked up then and Throné quickly slipped back into the shadows, off to her next mission.

———

The shops at New Delsta had gotten new wares in. Throné looked through the window, eyeing the accessories and clothes laid out. She looked around at the nobles and merchants around her, seeing who would be an appropriate target—

"Hello!"

Throné recognized that voice. She debated taking off into an alleyway to disappear... and turned around instead.

"Ah hah! I was right, it is you!" Castti gave her a smile, like she wanted to see Throné. She looked pleased, for what reason, Throné did not know. "How's your back?"

"... fine," she replied. "You're... still here."

"Yes." Castti seemed embarrassed. "I didn't mean to extend my stay here but a lot more people require the services of an apothecary more than I've realized. I can't simply walk away when they need my help."

"... hm." She was exactly the sort of person Throné thought she'd be. Always ready to run into danger, if it meant she could help someone. When was the last time she had found someone like that in New Delsta? Did people like that exist? Doing that here in this city was the surest and quickest way to being wrung out and left for dead, with no one to mourn for them.

Castti looked at her then, curious. "You've never told me your name—"

A cry from nearby interrupted her. Castti immediately spun in the direction of the noise, feet already carrying her off. Throné remained there, listening. It had sounded like a child but even children could be part of the Snakes... she cautiously followed, keeping her distance to survey the scene.

An elderly woman had collapsed in the middle of the street, next to a little girl crying out. She watched as Castti pushed through the crowd, crouching down to them. The woman had strange blisters on her arms and a flush to her that made her moan with agony, and a smear of blood across her head from where she'd fallen.

"Oh dear, she's got a fever," Castti said. She looked around the crowd. "Can someone help me carry her?" she called out to the crowd gawking at them. No one offered to move, some of them grimacing at the marks on the woman's skin. Castti looked through the crowd again... and then her eyes landed on Throné.

This should have been Throné's opportunity to disappear. She should have slipped away, left her there to learn how cruel New Delsta was, left her there to...

Instead, with a heavy sigh at first, she stepped forward, moving through the crowd. She noticed others looking at her tattoo but she thought nothing of it, reaching down to grab the woman's legs as Castti took the woman's arms. Castti smiled gratefully at her and Throné quickly looked away. People like Castti didn't smile at Throné like that—they shouldn't.

"Well? Where to?" Throné asked, looking at the little girl who suddenly seemed unsure. When she met Throné's eyes, she yelped and froze.

"Where to, my dear?" Castti asked, her voice gentler, and the little girl seemed to jump. She looked at Castti and Throné could see the immediate change, the way she relaxed and began to lead them down the street.

Later, Throné waited at the doorway to the room she had helped carry the elderly woman to. The girl and Castti were inside, at her bedside. She didn't miss the way the girl kept glancing nervously at her though, constantly going to her hand where her snake was.

"Your grandma is just sleeping now and she'll be okay. I'll stay here to help watch over her for a bit, okay? Don't worry, I won't let anything else happen to her!" Castti spoke gently, and she watched as the little girl held onto them, taking comfort. It was the way Castti spoke, that reassurance, that kindness, that warmth that made the little girl believe in her words... and maybe even Throné might have felt that twinge inside of her too.

Throné left them.

———

The sky was threatening to pour when they found it. Throné leaned to peer at the strange creature before gasping, falling to her knees now as she reached out.

"It's hurt," she said, cradling the bird in her hands. Its wing was bent strangely and it chirped so pathetically that even Throné felt something tug inside of her. She wanted to fix it. How could she do that?

"I think the wing's broken," Pirro said, leaning down next to her.

"Just leave it there, it's as good as done!" Scaracci scowled at them. "We've got worse things to worry about than a bird! We gotta steal something or else we're not getting dinner tonight! Donnie's already waiting for us at the theater!"

Throné glared at him and he yelped, backing away from her. "G-Geez, Throné! Just reminding you about tonight!"

"Mother keeps the bandages in her room though..." Pirro said, nervous.

"I'll go steal it then," Throné said, immediately heading over to the parlor. She was never afraid of Mother, not when it seemed like she was always out to punish Throné for every transgression she could think of.

"W-wait, if we're caught we'll be whipped!" Scaracci ran to block her path but she pushed past him.

"... you don't have to follow me," she said, and continued without waiting for his answer. She heard him yelling at her but she ignored it. She had something more important to do. If she didn't hurry, the bird wouldn't be able to get better.

Thankfully, Mother wasn't in her office when Throné sneaked in. She picked the locks and pulled the roll of bandages free. It would be obvious if she took the whole thing though. She ripped a small part of it carefully and put it back.

She went back to the bird and with Pirro's help, managed to somehow wrap its wing. The bleeding stopped, it looked like. If only she could take it back to her quarters, but there was no hope in hiding something like this when there were four other girls in the room, all of them eager to rise through the ranks of the Blacksnakes and also keenly aware of the favoritism Father had for her. She didn't care about any of it, but she couldn't trust them.

Scaracci and Donnie managed to steal something for the both of them in that time and they returned to the parlor with their spoils. But somehow, Mother knew about her sneaking into the closet and gave her a whipping for the night. How, Throné would never know, nor did she care. If she was caught... then she was being sloppy. Maybe in her hurry to treat the bird, she left clues and tracks. She needed to be more careful next time.

Next time... Throné went back to the bird still. It looked stronger, and she fed it berries she had stolen from the fruit stands. Soon, it was strong enough to stand on its feet, move its good wing though unable to fly. She would take care of it, until the bird got better, until the bird was strong enough to fly away, until the bird would soar through the sky... and leave Throné back on the ground.

When she came back to the bird at the end of the week though, the bird was dead. Why, she couldn't figure out. She wasn't a healer. As she looked at it, she felt nothing—death would come for them all, and birds were no exception. She sat there for a while, looking up at the sky. What else did she expect would happen, though?

The only thing her hands were good for was killing.

Throné woke.

———

"... you're still here."

Throné came upon her sitting on a bench near the theater. Castti looked up, and when she recognized Throné, her face broke into a smile.

"Thank you for your help the other day," she said, scooting over to make space for Throné. She looked at Throné so expectantly so Throné felt compelled to sit. She stared at it first though, debating... but allowed herself to sit.

"... I didn't do much. Just helped you carry the body."

"And that's exactly the help I needed in that moment," she said just as easily. "No one else stepped in so I'm glad you did."

"... hm."

"You don't need to do much to make a difference," Castti said, smiling at Throné. "Just reaching out your hand can be enough."

Throné said nothing in return. Just reaching out a hand... sounded too optimistic for her. People here always expected something in return. There was only take, take, and take. It was the only way Throné knew how to live... and she suspected the way she would die too, used up to the very last drop of blood in her body.

"You won't be seeing much of me for a while though," Castti began to say, "my colleague hasn't come back since foraging at the mountains nearby so I'll have to go check up on him to make sure he hasn't gotten his head stuck in the clouds."

Oh. Right. That scrawny white-haired man that was also part of Eir's Apothecaries. Throné hadn't seen him for a while and forgot he was also... there. The demeanor between him and Castti were far too great.

"Then, we'll head back home to our village. Ah..." Castti's smile turned apologetic, clearly reminiscing. "We're a little overdue for when we said we'd be back, I hope Malaya won't be too upset with us this time." Despite her worry, there was a fondness in her voice when she spoke. Was it for home? Was it for the person she mentioned?

Throné wondered how that felt. New Delsta was always filthy and suffocating to her. It was home, the only place she had ever known... but it never felt like a home. What even was... home?

"Leaving, huh." Throné hadn't realized she had spoken aloud until she heard a giggle from Castti.

"My apologies, I didn't know you enjoyed my company that much," she said, a teasing smile on her face now. Throné frowned; had she... been? She couldn't tell.

"With our kind of work though, it's imperative that we travel," Castti began to explain. Maybe she had taken Throné's expression the wrong way. "People cry out for help... and some don't realize they are, or they're unable to. Those people deserve help too."

"... how noble," Throné could only say.

"You think so? Helping people just feels like the right thing to do, doesn't it?"

Throné said nothing again. What could she say? In the face of someone so... bright like Castti, everything Throné felt was... she didn't know. She had never met anyone like Castti before. Was this how apothecaries were like?

Or was it... just Castti? Castti, who had the freedom to think this way? Castti, who had the freedom to do as she pleased? Castti, who had the freedom... to live how she wanted?

She rose to her feet and looked down at Castti, who seemed to know this would be their final conversation.

"... safe travels," Throné said, and left.

Days would pass and just as she said, she wouldn't see Castti around the city. Her missions kept her busy in the meanwhile.

There was never anything for her to look forward to in her days. Blood, death, decay—it was the only thing Throné ever knew, and it would be the only thing she would know. The Blacksnakes would grind her down until she was nothing but bones; what other future was there for her? There was no escape she could see, not with this collar still on her. And the only way to get rid of the collar...

Throné took out her knife, stared at the blade, and wondered if a future could even be possible for her.

———

There was only a second of warning before she whipped around, her knife parrying Father's own strike. He met her frown with a satisfied smile, backing away though he still held his dagger in front of him.

"Good, Throné, still sharp," he said. "I was getting worried."

"... about?" She eyed him warily, wondering if he would strike again at her.

He only chuckled instead of answering, but he put his knife away. Though she still felt wary, Throné sheathed her dagger as well.

"Throné... allow me to ask you something. What do you think is something that can't be stolen?"

"... what?" Even Throné couldn't help but stare at him incredulously. Was this one of his antics again? She never understood when he talked like this. She didn't answer him, never in the mood to humor him when he was being like this.

Father only smiled, never explaining. "You've got a mission, only just for you."

"What is it?"

Throné felt in her gut rather than saw, ducking to avoid Father's swipe at her head. Her dagger was already in her hands, but he had already backed away, a knife pointed straight at her. Throné's heart pounded as she stared at him, waiting, coiled like a snake.

"You remember Eir's Apothecaries, don't you? Your mission then..." he smiled with all of his teeth, "is to kill the woman."

Throné kept her face impressively still but her grip on her dagger turned white. "Why?"

"Let's just say she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, and made some powerful enemies," he said. An understatement. Powerful enough to have Father order for her assassination, for whatever reason.

"Leave her colleague though. Your orders are only for her." His gaze seemed heavier than usual, and it also felt as if he knew something she didn't. Why he looked at her like that though, she didn't know. "So you'll do it, won't you, Throné?"

Throné still met his gaze without hesitation. "Of course."

———

No one on the roof when Throné stepped off the ladder. The way was clear, as she'd been told. She slipped into the building, old and abandoned already. There would be no one else here. A perfect spot for cleaning.

"We'll make it easy for you. Someone like that sticks her nose into everyone's business," Father had said, chuckling darkly. "It'll be easy to lure her somewhere, tell her that there's someone in pain and needs her help, and she'll come running like a lamb to the slaughter!"

Throné didn't care—as long as she was given her orders, she would carry them out. At least this way would make disposal easier.

Third floor, fourth room to the right... her steps were silent as she crept to the room. She waited, listening. She heard heavy boots thudding around inside and knew.

The door was locked and Throné easily picked it. She stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind her. When it did, Castti turned around.

"You..." Castti's brow was furrowed but there was no confusion. "You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

"... what makes you say that?"

"In the mountains, there was a village and... a man... with Trousseau, he..." Castti trailed off, looking at her as if still searching for answers but Throné only stared back, expression blank. A village? She didn't know anything about that.

But she didn't miss the way Castti flicked her eyes down to her tattoo. Ah, so now she knew. Throné pulled her knife from its holster on her leg. Castti held up her hands, backing away from her.

"Must we do this?" she asked, her voice soft yet still firm. She wasn't pleading or begging like most people did when Throné pointed her dagger at them. She met Throné's gaze and there was no fear in her. Even now, she was still unwavering. She would have made for a perfect assassin, Throné thought, and quickly banished the thought from her mind.

"Don't take it personal," Throné only said, and lunged.

Castti threw herself to the floor and dove at her instead. Before Throné could kick out, she felt her knees being grabbed and she fell to the floor now as Castti pulled on them. She was flat on her back and Castti had grabbed her wrist before she could use her knife. In her other hand was a canister with a strange colored liquid—Throné was not keen on finding out exactly what was inside.

They struggled for a bit, Throné finding Castti much stronger than she thought. Soon though, Throné managed to find an opening and flipped them over, and Castti gasped as her head hit the floor. She still held tight onto Throné's arm though, but now the knife was inching closer and closer, her strength no match against both Throné and the pull of gravity.

Closer, closer, and closer, the knife's edge crept, the tip of it touching the palm column of her skin. A single prick of blood dripped out, flowing down the side of her neck—

Throné froze. She watched that drop slip down and stain the skin, watched... and watched...

Castti shoved and kicked her away. The knife flew out of her hands and Throné was now the one on the floor, curling up on herself from the kick. She had barely felt it but her body was reacting on instinct. Her knife was just barely out of arm's reach but before she could grab it back, Castti swiped it off the floor. Now, she was the one who stood over Throné, staring down at her with a knife in her hands. The moonlight from the window behind them seemed shine on the metal of her dagger, setting it aglow.

So a healer would judge her. That… didn't sound so bad. Fitting, almost. Throné closed her eyes and waited to take her final breath.

She waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing came... except for a quiet thud.

Throné opened her eyes. Castti had sat down next to her instead, placing the knife back on the floor. If Throné wanted, she could easily move and kill within the same second.

"You're still here," she only said.

"I am," Castti replied. Though she put on a brave front, she sounded slightly shaken. Not many people went through assassination attempts, Throné could guess. Went through one and lived though Throné's attempt was terribly shoddy. Her friends would have said she never even tried. Maybe she hadn't. She should have come in through the open window, surprised her with a slit to her throat and she would have been none the wiser. And yet...

"You should kill me. I could kill you right now without you realizing," Throné said.

"And yet, you haven't," Castti answered back. "Why did you stop?"

Throné wondered. Why had her hands shaken? She had killed healers before; some were drunk on the power they had over others... and others were also simply good people in the wrong place and wrong time. Her knife made no distinction.

"Killing you wouldn't have been a cleaning job," she breathed out. Her hands were already so dipped and stained with blood... to add one more body was merely a drop to everyone she had killed. And yet...

She saw Castti reaching out. Her hand touched Throné's shoulder and that touch, as light as it was, let her feel the full weight of Castti's compassion and kindness. It sapped all of the strength out of Throné, and she laid there now, staring at the blade of her knife.

Tired. She was... tired. She was tired. Tired of it all. Just... tired. Nothing else mattered to Throné in this moment than to lay there. If Castti decided otherwise to end her life, Throné wouldn't even have resisted. Her gaze remained fixed ahead of her, looking at nothing... feeling nothing.

Since she had failed her mission, there was nothing but punishment waiting for her if they did not decide death would be her punishment. She had thought she would cling to life, cling to it like a shadow that would never come to light, cling to it like how the smell of blood would always cling to her lungs. To be able to experience such warmth when she never had in her life—how could she live after? How had she lived?

What did she know of warmth? Snakes were cold-blooded; they sought for warmth that they did not have. She would slither on the ground in the shadows for the rest of her life, seeking what she could not have.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" Castti asked.

"... you're asking me?" Throné laughed though it was a humorless sound. "I almost put a knife through your neck and you're asking me if I'm fine?" She laughed again but her laughter trailed off into a whisper. "You... you should've been running away already. Get away from here. If you start now, they won't be able to catch up to you. Past the Brightlands, they won't be willing to chase after you. Don't ever come back to New Delsta."

"What will happen to you, then?" Castti asked, her voice soft. It made Throné feel sick, hearing that kindness even after everything she had done.

"... who knows if I'll be alive after tonight."

Another silence followed until Castti asked. "Then, why not try to run away?"

"We don't forgive and forget traitors who run away. And the collar I wear… if we try to force it off, it will poison and kill us."

Castti looked over at her collar now, as if seeing it for the first time. "In what way? Through fumes? Acid?"

"... I don't know, but I've seen what happens to the body when someone tries." Throné swallowed, "I couldn't recognize who it was until they told me."

Another silence stretched between them until Castti spoke again. "May I... examine it?"

Throné took a breath and slowly nodded. Castti reached out, gingerly touching the collar. Throné tensed, her insides coiled tight. All Castti had to do was take her knife and cut it open and the collar would break and her life would be forfeit. The thought of Castti being the one to break her collar though... perhaps, from someone like Castti, it would be considered an act of mercy.

"If only I could extract the poison, I could figure out an antidote," Castti murmured. Her hand fell away, and Throné could finally breathe easy.

"I couldn't tell you anything about that either. All I know is that it comes from the western continent."

"I'll make a note of that then. When I'm able, I'll venture out with my group to the western continent, see if I can find out more about it. And then—"

"No need for that," Throné interrupted, "since I won't know if I'll live to see the dawn."

Death—it wasn't something she feared. It was always an inevitable; it only came faster and messily for them as a Blacksnake. Still, she thought she could stave it off for as long as possible. Even when it felt like all she could see was darkness in her future... she still wanted to...

She had thought she wanted to live a long life but that would remain what it would always be: an afterthought.

"Just... just leave," Throné breathed out. "Someone like you... someone like you shouldn't even bother with me. All my hands have ever done are kill but yours... yours are for healing. You should go back out there to do good."

"And you are someone who needs help, too!" Castti said, her voice unexpectedly fierce. Throné blinked and finally looked over at her. She looked angry—for what? At her? At herself?

"Why? Even though I almost killed you, you think I'm still worth helping?"

Castti met her eyes, undaunted. "I did not become an apothecary to be a judge. I became an apothecary to extend a helping hand to those in need."

Throné tore her gaze away. She couldn't look at her anymore. It… it hurt, being looked at like that. What had Throné done to deserve that kindness? All the blood on her hands—none of it could ever be washed away no matter how hard she scrubbed. Even if she stopped and put her knife away, it didn't erase all the lives she had taken. Her life in the shadows... it was all she knew. Why, then... did Castti still look at her with so much kindness?

"Just as everyone's hands can kill, they also have the power to heal. Life and death are merely two sides of the same coin, if you think about it." Throné heard Castti rustling through her satchel and she pulled out a container. It looked the same as she had given Throné the first time they had met. She placed it down next to Throné. "For your wounds, and... if there's a chance we can meet again, Eir's Apothecaries are always open. We're always in need of more hands."

"... you would still take someone like me?" The thought was absurd to Throné. She couldn't fathom it. Why? Who could look at her and think her hands could heal?

"The line between life and death is so thin and... we both understand that more than anyone. If you are willing to learn, then I could think of no better person to be an apothecary," Castti answered, speaking so assuredly that… even Throné could believe in her words. "And perhaps, then, you'll be able to give me your name."

Castti reached out, placing a light touch on her arm, before she stood. She left the room, and Throné listened as she left, listened to her footsteps echoing down the hallway, listened for a long time even when the footsteps had long faded away.

Throné laid there for what felt like an eternity. The collar on her neck... it felt even tighter now, as if it was pulling itself through her skin until it would one day sink through her and rest on her very bones and tear through them. The light touch Castti had placed on her—it still felt warm, so warm. They would most likely never see each other again, and yet... for some reason, Throné wanted to cling to that hope.

Just as she was about to finally pull herself up, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

She recognized those anywhere. If he wanted someone to hear him, he would allow himself to be heard and so, Throné knew exactly who it was.

Father stepped into the room. Her back was to him. If he were to plant a knife in her right now, it would be the best time for it. Instead, he walked around her and sat down in front of her, just as Castti did.

"Throné... those apothecaries left town. I thought you had your orders?" His voice betrayed no emotion from him.

Throné didn't answer him. What else could she say? She had failed her mission and that was it. No excuses, only results mattered.

"What's my punishment?" she asked him instead. "Death?"

And Father laughed. "Throné... oh, Throné, Throné, Throné..." His chuckle faded away and he watched her for several long minutes, silent. It felt as if he was studying her, for what, she didn't know. Perhaps looking at her one last time before punishment. "You've tasted it, haven't you? Ah, what a fool you are... just like me."

Then he sighed and sat down. In that moment, he looked just as tired as she felt, a quiet resignation and an unknown sorrow as he looked at her. No, there was a faraway look in his eyes now, as if he was looking at someone else instead. Who, Throné would never know—he would never tell her even if she asked. He placed his hand on her head and the touch was so soft that it made her feel as if she were a decade younger, to when she used to hug his knees, to when he would pick her up to show her the street performers when the crowd was too big, to when... she killed for the first time.

When he spoke again, there was a grief to his voice that she wouldn't understand until she held his hand for one last time. "Your punishment is that you know what it means now to yearn for the light."

———

Throné left a single flower for each of the three new wooden markers that had been erected. She allowed herself to remain there for a moment, reflecting. Out of all of them, she never thought she would be the only one remaining. She would never see them or hear their voices again... and she would remember what Father and Mother had done. It was the final push she needed to realize what she truly wanted. This damned collar would be freed from her neck no matter what, she finally swore.

A bark interrupted her and she looked down, to see that same puppy. A smile came to her lips and she leaned down, reaching into her pocket to pull out a dried strawberry. The puppy eagerly took it, tail wagging up at her. Good. Dogs were honest, unlike people, Throné knew how to deal with them.

"I'm gonna be gone for a while. You'll be a good girl while I'm gone, right?" she spoke even though she knew it wasn't able to answer. Things were always happening in New Delsta and she only hoped this puppy would survive as she did, out here in the streets.

A loud bang startled the both of them and the puppy ran away, scared from the noise. Throné pushed herself up, debating whether to follow after it, or leave on her journey. It was good that it had found her first though, she did mean to feed it one last time before heading out.

There was a sudden yelp though and Throné took off, dashing for the puppy, hoping that it hadn't found trouble in the few minutes she had left it. She rounded the corner—

Throné slowed to a stop because there, in the middle of the street, with the puppy at her heels... Castti looked up at her.

Heavy bags sat under her eyes, and she looked haggard. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows and Throné would see the hints of blackened marks peeking out from underneath, scars that had never been there before. There was a heaviness to her shoulders too that she never had... like a woman haunted.

And when she gazed upon Throné, there was no recognition in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, is this your puppy?" Castti smiled but there was barely any light to it. The warmth that haunted Throné for so long... it was gone.

"No, she's a stray," Throné answered.

"Ah... she's a good girl." Castti leaned down to scratch it behind the ears. The puppy leaned up to lick her mouth and she laughed. She stood back up and looked at Throné, an odd expression crossing her face now.

"I realize this might sound strange but... do you happen to know me?"

Throné blinked. "... I'm sorry?"

"I've... I've lost my memory, and I've been traveling to see if I might find clues about myself," Castti said slowly. "I... forgive me, that was a strange question to ask a stranger."

Throné pushed her lips together. "You said you've lost your memories?"

"I-I know, it sounds hard to believe but I didn't even remember my name!" Castti laughed but there was no humor in her voice. Frankly, it sounded hard to believe but... it had to be true, unless Throné considered the alternative, and that was she had forgotten her time here.

But perhaps, that was for the better. Nothing good came out of New Delsta. Throné released a breath before she spoke again. "No, I don't know who you are, and I've never seen you around here either. You would've had better luck heading the other way."

"Oh..." Castti's face fell. "Thank you then, for that information. I'm sorry to bother you with such a strange request... My notes did say I had stopped by Winterbloom... I'm not sure why I stopped here..." She turned around and began to head toward the entrance.

Throné watched her go. She leaned down to give the puppy one more pet and treat, and stepped forward after Castti. She followed her until they stopped at the entrance, and Castti turned around, eyes widening when she saw Throné there.

"Oh! Are you heading out too?" Castti asked.

Throné didn't answer her right away. She looked up at the sky, watched as a bird soared through the clouds, out into blue skies, and then looked back down at Castti. "Traveling by yourself is going to be dangerous. As it turns out, I happen to have some business in Winterbloom too."

Throné held out her left hand. "I'm willing to lend you a hand if you like."

Castti looked down at her hand and when her eyes landed on the snake, something seemed to flicker in her eyes but as quick as it had come, it was gone. Castti nodded, the corners of her lips curling upward. "It would be nice to travel with someone and... I don't know why but I just feel like I can trust you." She reached out, taking Throné's hand. Her grip was firm—her strength was still there, Throné noted. Her strength... and a flicker of that warmth. "My name is Castti, pleased to meet you. What's your name?"

"Throné," she finally gave.

[flipchild]

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[175+] Cute Girly Quotes For Instagram Bios Profile Pictures 2023

Leave a Comment / Caption For Girls / By Paul Chrish

Hey, all the girls out there. Are you here on this blog to get some girly quotes for Instagram photo? If yes then you are in right place. Here we are sharing 175 + girly quotes for Instagram. If you have got your shot that expresses exactly what you wanted. Now only a simple act of writing girly quotes. Take our girly quotes for Instagram from the given list.

Table of Contents

Girly Quotes For Instagram

Best Girly Quotes For Instagram

Insta Girly Quotes/ Insta Girly Quotes FB

Cute Girly Instagram Bios

Girly Captions For Instagram

Girly Status For Instagram

Good Girly Quotes For Instagram

Girly Quotes For Instagram

Girly Quotes For Instagram

Happy girls are the prettiest.

“And one day she discovered that she was fierce, and strong, and full of fire, and that not even she could hold herself back because her passion burned brighter than her fears.” Mark Anthony

I am a clever girl, I do things, many things.

I am not complete without my eye lashes.

Walk like you have three men walking behind you.

I’m not bad, I’m brutally honest. It’s not my fault that the truth hurts. Here is a patch.

A little more kindness, a little less judgment.

Being born a girl should not be a disadvantage.

Some people are not your friend, they are just scared to be your enemy.

She walked through the storm and now she shines like thunder in a storm.

Sooner you stand up for yourself the sooner you shine.

Be selfish enough to have self-worth, self-love, and self-respect.”

I am me, I don’t care about your opinion.

Hotter than a middle eastern climate.

“Some girls are just born with glitter in their veins.” – Paris Hilton

An intelligent girl can go through the phase of a crazy lack in the way of a reasonable woman.

Girls just wanna have fun.

Embrace the glorious disaster that you are!

Dream the impossible because dreams come true.

Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.

The happier you are, the more beautiful you become.

Be your own kind of beautiful.

Lift up your head princess, if not the crown falls.

Don’t be so quick to judge me. After all, u only see what I choose to show u.

Beneath the makeup is a girl with a cute face.

In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel.

“Heels and red lipstick will put the fear of God into people.” – Dita Von Teese

Real girls are never perfect, and perfect girls are not real.

“The saddest thing for a girl to do is to dumb herself down for a guy.” – Emma Watson

“You’re a beautiful girl, and you can do anything you want in life.” – Jeanine Pirro

It’s like that story in a book that makes your eyes dream.

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. “Eleanor Roosevelt

Best Girly Quotes For Instagram

Beauty is power, a smile is your sword.

“Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world.” – Bette Midler

Let your smile be the “Expecto Patronum” against all the negativity around

“I’m not beautiful like you. I’m beautiful like me.”

Through simplicity comes great beauty.

Pour a drink, put some lipstick and get back on your feet.

Light up the night, wild one. Your smile is going to save someone’s life.

Lips without lipstick is like a cake without frosting

You always have the power within you just had to learn to use it.

Be a girl with a mind, a woman with attitude, and a lady with class.

In each corner, a demon hides and in each demon, an angel walks.

Turn off the spark that your soul hides behind.

I am a strong woman because a strong woman raised me

When life puts u in tough situations, don’t say “why me” say “try me”.

Make your belief little stronger.

“The only thing more beautiful than the woman that knows what she wants I the woman who isn’t waiting on anybody else to get it for her.” – Rob Hill Sr

“No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they’re pretty, even if they aren’t.” – Marilyn Monroe

Smile. It destroys those who want to destroy you.

You are never fully dressed without a Smile.

Insta Girly Quotes/ Insta Girly Quotes FB

A wise girl knows her bounds and a smart girl knows she has none.”

I won’t cry for you. My mascara’s too expensive.

Always try to keep your heels, head, and Standards high.

Be the girl with not just beauty, but also swag.

Beautiful minds inspire others.

Don’t be Queen waiting for a King. Be a Queen busy with her Kingdom until her king arrives.

I never said I was a ‘good girl.’ I’m not a bad girl.

I’m nicer when I like my outfit.

A smiling girl is the CEO of her own world.

I’m shining like fireworks over your sad empty town.

Cute Girly Instagram Bios

So you have got your cute shot. Now only a simple act of writing a cute girly Instagram Bios. Take our Cute Girly Instagram Bios caption that you can post your cute pictures whenever you want to caption your photos on Instagram. We have got some cute girly Instagram Bios caption to caption your pictures from short to well-known captions.

Girly Instagram Bios

Find who you are in this world and what you need to feel good alone

First, they watch. Then they hate. Then they copy.

She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.

Be you because you’re pretty.

A woman has as many lives as her shoes.

I don’t race, I don’t chase that’s why I can’t be replaced.

They told me I couldn’t that’s why I did

Light up the night, wild one. Your smile is going to save someone’s life.

Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.

True beauty comes from within.

Girly Captions For Instagram

I did not dress this body up to come an waste it here.

I meant to burn down the Earth and Grafitti the Sky !

Think of all the beauty still left around you & Be happy!

The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color.

Cry only for cuts and stitches not for bastards and bitches.

I love the confidence that makeup gives me.”

Hating my looks doesn’t make U pretty.

Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.

Nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible!

Boys are like purses, cute, full of crap, and can always be replaced.

Girly Status For Instagram

Always dress like you are going to see your worst enemy

Beauty never asks for Attention.

Keep your standards higher than your heels.

Lift up your head princess, if not the crown falls.

Beautiful girl, you were made to do hard things. So believe in yourself.

Night Out with my hot girls.

Never underestimate the power of good attire on a bad day.

Never be afraid of what you are going for.

Being yourself is the prettiest thing you can be.

Men who don’t like girls with brains, don’t like girls.

Good Girly Quotes For Instagram

Want some good girly quotes for Instagram? Then this is exactly the place where you need to be. Don’t go anywhere and look here and there for good girly quotes for Instagram. Here is a list of good girly quotes for Instagram. Do check our list of Girly Quotes for Instagram. I hope you will get the best girly quotes for Instagram and won’t be disappointed by our sharing.

The strong creation created by God in the world is not the lion, not the elephant, not the tiger – the girl.

I like my coffee how I like myself: Bitter, Dark and too hot.

A girl’s best friend is her pride.

She had a galaxy in her eyes, a universe in her mind.

I know looks are not everything but I have them just in case.

Hating me doesn’t make U pretty.

“Every girl should realize that it is okay to be a glowstick. Sometimes, we need to break before we can shine.”

Good times and tan lines.

Pray, slay and conquer the day.

Just like my eyeliner, I always wing it.

Girly Instagram Quotes

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[worldofwardcraft]

What's in their wallet.

June 26, 2023

You might recall that Donald Trump, who currently thinks presidential candidates should not be prosecuted for any crimes they commit, spent the entire 2016 election cycle insisting Hillary Clinton should be summarily locked up for, well, reasons. So, now that Trump has been indicted by the Justice Department on charges of espionage and obstruction related to his theft of secret government documents, Republicans have been predictably whatabouting Hillary's fantasy felonies.

It's true that, back when she was President Obama's Secretary of State, Clinton used a personal email address and that some government documents ended up on her unsecured server at home. Her team compliantly handed over nearly 60,000 pages of emails to officials, but also deleted more than 30,000 emails that were considered personal in nature.

After a years-long investigation, the FBI determined her server did not contain any information or emails that were marked classified. Federal agencies did, however, retrospectively determine that 100 emails contained information (such as the secretary's itinerary) that should have been classified at the time they were sent. The FBI described her actions as careless, but said there was no criminal case that a "reasonable prosecutor" would bring.

But this doesn't deter Trump's army of defenders from accusing Hillary of being just as criminal as Trump (if not more so). At a Republican convention the other weekend, Mike Pence asserted that no one was above the law. And then went on to complain about the partisan "weaponization" of the Department of Justice and its failure to prosecute her.

Senator Ron Johnson or Wisconsin wondered aloud why President Biden hasn't treated Trump as generously as Trump treated Hillary. No, really. Then there's congresswoman Nancy Mace (R-NC):

And look, Joe Biden wants to give Donald Trump a death sentence for documents. They are, he's facing hundreds of years for mishandling documents, and they want him to die in jail. And yet Hillary Clinton is standing free today.

Meanwhile, over at Faux News, "Judge" Jeanine Pirro ranted,

How many documents were altered? How many documents were destroyed? Zero. Zero! But who destroyed 30,000 documents and lied about it over and over again? Hillary Clinton.

Ever-dependable bootlicker and occasional senator Lindsey Graham (R-SC) also chipped in his two cents about Trump's indictment: "Most Republicans believe we live in a country where Hillary Clinton did very similar things and nothing happened to her." Trump’s MAGA zealots, it seems, would prefer to ignore his crimes and focus instead on the imaginary misdeeds Hillary Clinton “got away with.” But, of course, that was always in the cards.

[southernsense]

Southern Sense is conservative talk with Annie "The Radio Chick-A-Dee" Ubelis, and Calvin Wimbish and Adianis Morales, guest co-hosts. Informative, fun, irreverent and politically incorrect, you never know where we'll go, but you'll love the journey! Guests: Stephanie Lee, aka Lady Redneck is the queen of Country Music Judge Jeanine Pirro co-hosts The Five on Fox, author of "Crimes Against America: The Left's Takedown of our Republic" John Blangero, Sun King Rising musical artist and rising star Mark Tapscott, Epoch Times, DC Correspondent Heritage Foundation - Hannah Davis Dedication: Police Officer Emily Breidenbach and Police Officer Hunter Scheel of the Cameron Police Department, End of Watch: Saturday, April 8, 2023

[jen-chavarria]

Work Cited

58 BCE-16, Livy, and Duffield Osborne. “Roman History, Books I-III.” The Project Gutenberg eBook of Roman History, Books I-III, by Livy and Duffield Osborne, March 5, 2023. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10828/pg10828.html. 

“The Battle of Lake Regillus.” Ars Bellica. Accessed March 20, 2023. http://www.arsbellica.it/pagine/battaglie_in_sintesi/LagoRegillo_eng.html. 

Cartwright, Mark. “Roman Architecture.” World History Encyclopedia. https://www.worldhistory.org#organization, March 11, 2023. https://www.worldhistory.org/Roman_Architecture/. 

Chester, Allan. “Ancient Roman Statutes : Translation, with Introduction, Commentary, Glossary, and Index.” Avalon Project - Documents in Law, History and Diplomacy. University of Texas Press, 1961. https://avalon.law.yale.edu/ancient/twelve_tables.asp. 

“Colosseum.” Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica, inc. Accessed March 20, 2023. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Colosseum. 

Macaulay, Thomas Babington. “Lays of Ancient Rome.” Lays of Ancient Rome, by Thomas Babington Macaulay, March 1, 2023. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/847/pg847-images.html. 

PICRYL , Public Domain. “Pirro Ligorio - Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae: Circus Maximus - Picryl - Public Domain Media Search Engine Public Domain Search.” PICRYL, January 1, 1553. https://picryl.com/media/speculum-romanae-magnificentiae-circus-maximus-83210f. 

Platner, Samuel Bell. “... The Topography and Monuments of Ancient Rome : Platner, Samuel Ball, 1863-1921 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming.” Internet Archive. Boston, Allyn and Bacon, January 1, 1970. https://archive.org/details/topographyandmo02platgoog/page/176/mode/2up. 

Press, World. “Roman Emperors – an Online Encyclopedia of Roman Rulers and Their Families.” Roman Emperors An Online Encyclopedia of Roman Rulers and Their Families, July 18, 2022. http://www.roman-emperors.org/auggie.htm. 

Shah, Avani. “Circus Maximus – a Fusion of Roman Architecture & Entertainment.” The Arch Insider, June 10, 2020. https://thearchinsider.com/circus-maximus-a-fusion-of-roman-architecture-entertainment/. 

Smollett, Tobias. “Letter XXXII .” Travels through France and Italy . J. Mundell & Co. Edinburgh, 1796., February 28, 1765. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Places/Europe/Italy/_Texts/Smollett/Travels/32.html. 

Society, National Geographic. “The Colosseum.” Education. Sarah Ap2pleton, National Geographic Society, National Geographic Society, September 28, 2022. https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/colosseum/. 

Society, National Geographic. “Key Components of Civilization.” Education, September 28, 2022. https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/key-components-civilization/. 

[subversivecynic]

Amazingly we just watched that movie "Polish vampire in Burbank" last night...

It was a dude's Opus. A dude named Mark pirro. He called his personal production company "Pirromount Pictures" which is frankly an impressive pun.

Not so shifty, but still strange.

The original cut of Nightbreed on LD, a strange sweater, a misprinted book cover, and two strange VHS tapes. I got A Polish Vampire in Burbank.

All found in a variety of stores in Calgary, AB. (Game Traders, Fairs Fair, a vintage clothing store, and a media booth at Crossroads Market I didn't get the name of).