Please read the author note at the end. Hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up to a dawning day and darkness. I sit up and settle on the side of the bed. For a moment I sit there and just slowly take in the quiet.

I liked quiet.

Had to when books about far off places and abstract concepts became more of a friend and confidant than most of the all too real people that I had to interact with in my daily life.

Opening my eyes I look towards one of my bookshelves to a necklace with a cross hanging on it. I look up to the book stopper which I had hung it off of which was made to look like an angel's wing supporting one of the few rows of books that did not reach from one end of the shelf to the other.

I smile and remember the day Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael gave it to me as a present. One of the few tangible ones I had been given. I remember the smile Mrs. Carmichael openly showed as she gave it to me. The small secret smile that Mr. Carmichael let onto his face for a moment when he convinced me to take it after I tried to refuse.

"Eh, we're not using it. Just another thing slowly collecting dust amongst a whole lot of other junk. Ain't got no use for it. Figure it should go to someone who will use and appreciate it.

Suddenly, I could see flames licking at the memory and for a moment I could feel a hellish heat.

I lock eyes on the cross hanging off the book stopper as a deep anger wells up inside me.

I make sure to keep the switch coiled.

Slowly I breathe in, and then out. With every breath I imagine the flames being blown back, pushed away.

With one last breath I get up, absently note the blanket being bunched up where I had squeezed my hands, the loosening of the muscles in my hands as they unclench and release. I walk over to the cross and stare at it for a moment. Can I? I reach for it and for a moment I hesitate, scared of pain and at the same time scared of there not being pain. Steeling myself I grasp it and brace myself for…something.

But there isn't a thing. I'm just simply standing there holding a somewhat cheap gilded cross that I had picked up at the Lord Street Market for something like twelve to fifteen bucks.

An indecipherable feeling wells up in my chest as I quickly toss on my usual running clothes. Take my pepper spray and stun gun and then come out of my bedroom.

I could feel a presence coming from the other side of my father's door. The whispers tempt me to listen and to look. To uncover secrets, uncover sins. But I simply walk by. The last thing I wanted to know were the sins of my father.

Something tells me I wouldn't like what I find.

I carefully walk down the stairs and soon open and close the door as quietly as I can. I note the cold air as I lock the door and take in the quiet neighborhood. Listen to the distant roar of traffic coming from the East toward the Rig and the Boardwalk. I instinctively skip the broken step and a…feeling and thought goes through me as I turn around and think about that step.

Shaking my head I settle on the lawn and another sense comes to me as I step on it to do some warm up stretches'. This one is more subdued, as many of them are behind the coiled switch. This one does not whisper, instead more of a droning sound on the surface of my skin. A presence that I ignore as I set off at a brisk pace. Each lawn I pass, each weed growing out of a crack in the pavement, even mold in the sewage are all felt and then lost as I eventually pass out of range of them at a swift pace. All within at least a half a block. I couldn't do anything with them when I was like this, just simply know they were there. How interconnected they were. It was strange. Profound.

As I ran, new sources of whispers called and sang to me. All manners, shades, and temperaments. Being away from Dad I listened, watched, tasted.

A guard taking bribes from an E88 member to not report another of their crimes. A deal that had been going for several years now. Greed, sloth, a layering of pride.

Kicking away a homeless man who had begged for money and after dropping his second burger from his clumsiness and lack of coordination gets angry at the homeless man. Blaming him for the insecurity that he felt from a failed date earlier that night. Greed and gluttony contrasted by the wrath, and an aftertaste of lust.

A woman who wouldn't take her sister's offer of help and support all for the feeling of temporary pleasure she gets from drugs all stemming from, I slowed my pace, multiple instances of her feeling like a failure, missed opportunities, and envy at her sister's more visible success. Pride and sloth garnished by envy.

A single mother sleeping with a man she brings home to forget for a moment her child who she has to take care of and feels at times resentful of, though she hates and is disgusted by the feeling. Lust with an undercurrent of sloth.

The child lying and saying she hadn't stolen from the cookie jar because she didn't want to tell mom she was hungry and make her mother's face more sad. She had learned that mom got sad when she asked for certain things. So she didn't, to be a good strong girl like mommy asks her to be. Things will get better. I pro-

I rip myself away from that whisper and move on to another as the mix of pride that has a watery mix of gluttony settle through and into me.

Pride, envy, sloth, greed, gluttony, wrath, lust are all there for me to see, listen to, taste, and peruse. A range and mix of tastes, a bevy of touch and sensations, a kaleidoscope of misdeed and wrongs.

The sins were through their eyes, from their viewpoint. Feelings and motivations were there as well. I could follow the path that led to these decisions, follow that path of lust, wrath, envy, etc. to understand specific influences if I worked at it and navigated the path.

The range was enough to cover three houses side to side if I was in the middle. It took time to go through the sins since it played like a story, a memory. I haven't seen all the sins of any one person, and on these runs I only have enough time to simply look at whatever the first sin is that is there. Though that is due to range, not any constraint of concentration. It doesn't overtake my vision and other senses. It is ethereal but utterly tactile as any other memory. If I focus and specify I can narrow down which sin I get, but I haven't been able to narrow it down to an exact act.

I can focus on say, murder, and that won't do anything. Won't change what sin I end up looking at. But I can focus on the feeling of wrath, and I might get anything from a murder they did some weeks ago, to them breaking a significant others things after they found evidence of them cheating years ago (she was actually proven wrong and had horribly reacted to a series of emails), to them not coming at their brother's call as they lay on their deathbed out of hatred and spite because the brother had inherited a bit more from their own parents.

It was like opening a book to a random page and reading an entry. I can filter it to a certain type of entry but not to the exact entry that I want. Turn to the book of Wrath but not being able to specify Chapter 16, Verse 4 for example. Another thing I noticed was that I could focus on multiple people and not have trouble understanding them all at the same time.

It was…addicting, there was of course the story and information that came from it, but there was also a type of energy I took in. At the most for how I am now it gave me an energy that fueled me. Energy that pushed me forward and made me less tired than I would be while running. I did tire, but at a slower rate.

I fed on it. The rest of the energy cycled down into the coiled switch.

I eventually complete my route and walk back up to my home. I smile a little at how lightly winded I feel. I come up to the step and feel the urge to just let go. Just reach for the trees, for the greenery, for the power, and just fix the step. I feel like I can if what I'm thinking is true.

But I don't know if someone was watching. It was irrational probably but ever since what happened on Saturday I felt more on watch. I sigh, Which I probably need to stop doing if what I've read about thinkers is true. Putting the thought out of my head I feel a presence on the other side and brace myself.

Opening the door I swiftly make my way upstairs with a swift, "Hi Dad." Please do your usual, nothing more.

His sleepy, "Hi Taylor." back doesn't stop me from getting upstairs and into the bathroom.

As I strip down I catch sight of myself in the mirror. As I finish I stop and just…stare. I look at myself, the gangly build, pale skin, nonexistent breast, the thin-lipped wide expressive mouth, the black hair that reminded me of mom.

I stare and as I look at my brown eyes in a flash they change, the sclera black and the pupils become red. My body still me but just more…fuller. There wasn't really a physical change. I didn't all of a sudden have big breast and womanly hips, the only thing drastic in that sense was more hair that fell down nearly to the floor. But my body, my eyes, my more voluminous hair just…fit together. It was subtle, intangible, tempting. The person in the mirror felt more complete, felt good. She smiled. A smile that held no warmth, only showed pleasure for herself, and a readiness to devour you whole. It brought to mind a snake.

I close my eyes and breath for a moment checking to make sure that the coiled switch wasn't unraveled.

It wasn't, but I could feel an urge. An urge to let go, to be free.

It's what you wanted so long after all. I could feel a part of myself say in the back of my mind.

I open my eyes again and there I am. Just…Taylor.

I quickly turn the shower on and lose myself in the water. The feeling of cleansing myself. As I scrub for a moment I lose myself in memories of the sins of others. Phantom hands, feelings, caresses, sighs, and moans all play out in my mind.

I make the water a little bit hotter as I blush a little. It had definitely been a shock, the Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday after what had happened. A crash course of sin that I had to accept as I figured out some of what I was able to do. Seeing all manner of sins, seeing no one was innocent. I was slowly…getting acclimated, but some things still shocked me. Some things I hope always will.

Passing by an elderly gentleman walking his dog on Monday and seeing him put a bullet in someone's head made me stop in my tracks. As the smell of greed washed over me I had wanted to, I don't know, throttle the guy, ask how he could live with himself, report him to the police, all manner of things. Those thoughts became a confused mess when after getting paid for the job he used that money to pay for his mother's hospital bills. How he had to lie to his mom. How he washed his hands just a little harder for some nights. The guilt he felt was stronger on some nights than others. The only reason why I knew that was because of the wrath that infused those nights. The self-hate.

I didn't know what to do, to feel, and I watched the back of an old man as he walked his dog down the street. Going about his life, just like every other.

I still didn't know what to do necessarily, though I had settled on one thing. Sin was a complicated and messy affair. Just like people.

I finish everything and dress myself before making my way downstairs. I see Dad, his wiry build and balding head in the kitchen finishing up some eggs. He looks at me, "Morning. You want some?"

"Sure." I respond. I help by setting the table and soon we begin eating.

"Why aren't you wearing your glasses if I may ask?" he asks before long.

A jolt of adrenaline goes through me as I realize I forgot my glasses. Fixed eyesight came with the other powers. I show nothing and just simply lie, "I can get around the house without them at least." I finish with a shrug, "I just simply didn't feel like wearing 'em right now." It was a dumb lie that definitely wouldn't have worked if he had caught me coming in from my run without them, Stupid, but in this case good enough as I see my father buy it. Going to have to buy a pair of fake ones to keep up appearances. Sloppy.

It's a bit of silence before Dad starts making conversation Ugh, "So Taylor, are you staying in today as well?" Not like it really matters if I do.

I put on an affable tone and say, "I didn't spend all day at home. I went running yesterday as well. But no, I am going out today. There's some things that I need to do."

"That's good. I know Winslow was canceled for the week," Lung at the very least could have finished the job. I darkly think, "but I don't want you just sitting at home reading while there is a world out there to enjoy. See some friends, go to the mall, that type of thing y'know."

I enjoy and focus on the feeling of my fork slowly and delicately spearing into my eggs as I focus on not responding negatively to my father's remark about friends. I simply nod and say, "I know. Like I said, couple of things I need to do, errands to run. That sort of thing."

"Okay," I see him about to say something, probably to pry, Please don't, and then he changes his mind and says instead, "Do you need any money?"

"Any you can spare." which is how I usually answer.

"I'll leave it on the stand at the front door."

"Thank you." he nods and looks like he's looking for another thing to say, Please don't, before he goes ahead and looks at his newspaper like he usually does.

I finish eating and while I'm cleaning the plate he asks, "Got your pepper spray and stun gun?"

I fight down the roar of irritation into a faux-irritated tone, "Daaaad, you ask me the same question at least every single week?"

"I know, just want you to be safe is all." he says amusedly. Fat lot of good a stun gun and pepper spray will to the real threats in this city.

I clean my plate, fix a smile on my face and turn around saying, "I am, don't worry. I know how to stay safe."

"I know you do." I hear him say as I exit the room and go back upstairs.

As the door closes the smile wipes from my face as I think to myself, You don't know a damned thing.

—-

Getting off the bus I hoist my book bag as I walk to the library and close myself off from the whispers I can feel coming from the building. I come in and head to the main desk where I see a familiar small caucasian woman with graying blonde hair. Ms. April, the elderly librarian gives me a knowing smile when she sees me. "Well look who came off the ol' dusty trail. Why if it ain't our little scholar Ms. Herbert come to return some treasures."

I mentally roll my eyes and smile at her hokey southern drawl as I drily respond and play along with a monotone voice, "Yes, I have returned from my travels of going back to my house and then returning. Truly, I had to race against the clock lest I pay the horrid and cursed late fee. Alas, I have succeeded for I have gleaned what knowledge, lessons, and stories I can from these manuscripts and tomes. Truly, tis a most momentous occasion."

She smiles and chuckles while taking the books out of the book bag, "That went a lot more fantasy and medieval in text there while the tone would've been mistook as a bellman wanting to throw themselves off a cliff and dash themselves on the rocks below."

"Then I would say mission accomplished then."

Her smile turns warmer as she takes in the books I'm returning and softly says, "Nine books, and some heavy ones at that. Gives hope to this ol' heart to see someone so eager for knowledge," She takes in the books that range from classical literature to philosophy to religion and others, "So were you able to get through everything?"

I grimace and shake my head, "Not all of it. A good chunk of it yeah, but the various books kind of rehashed stuff I had already read so I skimmed a good bit. Things have been a bit crazy."

"Don't I know it. Well did you like the book about classic heroes that I recommended?"

I let the smile drop from my face as I answer, "Not exactly. It was nice, just not what I'm looking for."

A look of concern comes on her face. She asks in that same soft tone as she checks in the books, "Is everything alright?"

I look at her and I understand the question for what it is, an invitation that I decide to not accept, "It is what it is."

She simply nods and types into the computer next to her, "You didn't get caught in that mess around the boardwalk did you?"

The lie comes easily enough as I smell a whiff of smoke, "No, thank goodness. Heard it was pretty bad."

"From what I hear it was," she agrees without looking at me, "Heard Winslow is not having classes for this week."

"Yep." I softly pop the p.

She glances at me, "Must be quite nice."

I smirk, "Yeah."

She smiles and says, "Well, once again Taylor you are free to check out more books. Did you want to renew any of these, need help finding new ones? Or do you just want me to leave you to your lonesome and let you just peruse these hallowed halls?" the last part she says in that hokey southern voice again.

"No, I actually have other stuff to do today. I just came to return the books is all." I say with an easy laugh.

Her smile turns wry, "Alright. The search for knowledge has been postponed. I'll see you later Taylor."

"See you later Ms. April." I turn away.

"Taylor," she calls out my name and I turn around, "Keep your pride."

Pain on the inside, choking me, unable to get out, trying to crush it down deep like before
A flute, lost, desecrated, shattered to pieces, another memory tarnished
Blaming myself, blaming them, looking to the ceiling past bookshelves, asking why
An old woman lowers into my view, a question is asked, an impulse to lie is felt
The warmth of a building underneath a cross is felt, words are remembered, the lie turns to ash
A confession commences, the choking feeling, lessens and flow, not all the way, but enough
As the tears stop, I ask why, she says I don't know, possible that they don't even fully know
Tells what she sees, on the outside, on the inside, tells of her life, advice is given, an ear is lent
It turns late, I need to go home, I feel I can hide what happened today, he doesn't need to know
He won't notice, Never does
Goodbyes are said, a hand grabs a hold of mine as I turn to leave, "Keep your pride."

I give an affirming nod as I turn and make my way.

—-

Another bus ride. The city and its sinful citizens passing by. Sin after sin, story after story roll by like the reel of a strip of film. Each frame is another evil, another lie, another moment of weakness. It reminded me of my own memories. The further back I went it was like a filter being placed over the city. The city vibrant, alive, warm, filled with something…beautiful. Something I couldn't find as I looked at the downtrodden people around here. If there wasn't a downtrodden, then it was because they were the one doing the stepping. It would be so easy to classify them all. Us vs. them. But like always it was a bit more complicated. People were complicated. After all, just because the downtrodden were being stepped on didn't mean that they weren't capable of doing things just as horrible just so that they can ignore the boot on their neck for but a moment.

But there were also good people. Though I couldn't see someone's good deeds I can read in between the lines of the bad. Feel the struggle of the light trying to make its way through the dark. And I have to believe in the inherent goodness of people somewhat.

If I didn't…

I make sure to keep the coiled switch wound.

The temptation to unspool comes full force as I spy a hoverboard riding hero over rooftops along with another flying alongside him. Kid Win and Aegis.

I grit my teeth at the so-called heroes. Of course doing nothing but jack shit. Doing shallow, surface level things that don't help-

I lose myself in the film reel of stories and I let myself settle down for the rest of the ride. As we ride away from the Boardwalk area it's like my eyes get drawn towards where it happened.

A dragon roar and the crackle of flames are heard. Smoke rises over the roofs.

I blink and it's the same old bay. I look in the direction where I know the Rig is. An abandoned oil rig retrofitted and made to be an offshore base for the Protectorate. The place where our so-called 'heroes' watched and graced our city with their presence. It has a forcefield that makes it shine so bright that you can see it as soon as you come over on any of the roads into the Bay. People saw the beauty, the light. All I saw was the distance from the rest of the city. It felt like they were making themselves separate, that they just came down from their palace of Olympus when one of the Titans popped up one of their heads.

Though now if I wanted to…I could step on that stage now.

I could feel something inside sing and resonate with the whispers around me..

I breathe, softly scoff, and turn back to look out the window next to me. It's also a idiotic base for deploying from. Seriously, how much time does it tack on before they get into the city proper. Stupid.

The bus begins slowing down and I get ready for my stop. As I make my way down the aisle I fight to not react as a whisper shows me one of the passengers I pass give me a lot more swing in my hips as he imagines my legs in something more tighter.

Then something with more lace.

Then that goes to his mistress who he's thinking about asking her to do that thing with the-

Aaaaaand let's stop there. I stop that whisper and glancing out the side of my eye I see the man and shiver at the guy's apparent age.

And that he's a guy.

Not my cup of tea.

The mistress was…nice.

I find myself taking in my black hoodie and loose fitting jeans as I walk down the sidewalk. For a moment I imagine them …tighter. More slimming.

I pop my eyes back up to what's in front of me as I ignore the feeling roiling in my chest and running through me.

I shut down the whispers again as my destination came into view.

As I stare at the cross hanging off the side of the building a more uncomfortable feeling settles in.

Touching a cross didn't do anything. Surely entering into a house of God wouldn't either, right?

The church had a fresh coat of white on it. Though I imagine that if I took a lap around the building I might find another E88 tag on it. Bay Saint Church of God and Christ was a building that looked like it had seen it all. And had grown stronger for it. It was a building of stone and cinderblock that probably brought to mind more of a mausoleum than anything. It was cold, foreboding, and seemingly unwelcoming. But the door was right there.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

Be like Christ. I knock on the heavy wooden doors and wait.

It isn't long after the second set of knocks that the door opens to reveal Pastor Brown. He fills the opening of the door with his stature and physique. A large, fit, and built black man with rich chocolate skin dressed in a simple white button up and black slacks was the shepherd of the flock that gathered in a place that was a little too close for comfort to E88 territory. But a mix of the pastor being ex-military from what I could gather during his sermons and the stories he sometimes tells, and the fact that the PRT was somewhat close by made the church not enough of a priority to make a point.

"Ms. Hebert. You here to visit for a moment?"

"Just a moment," I speak hesitantly, "and to talk to you."

An inquisitive look is all he gives before he nods and makes his way inside. I follow, breathe a small sigh of relief as I don't burst into flames or something, and take in what is admittedly a very humble and familiar interior. There are two sets of wooden pews broken up by rich brown carpet separating the two sets. The walls are wood paneling that extends to the ceiling that lets in ample sunlight from various ceiling windows. This is helped by various light fixtures dropping from the ceiling. A heater hung behind me above the entrance in an alcove, blowing warm air on me down the central aisle as I walked in and sat down in the pew I usually sat at.

I hesitate for a moment as I look at a spot where two people usually situated themselves. Two people who I knew wouldn't anymore.

I squeeze my eyes shut and sit listening to the familiar sound of the heater. I look up to the pulpit that is on a raised part of the floor, behind it a quite large portrait of Jesus on the cross. I sit silently and stare at the figure, a horrible mess of feelings as I wait for the pastor to finish with whatever he's doing in what I know to be the church's office. Soon he comes back and sits with me, looking at the portrait.

We sit for a while before he says with a rich and jovial tone, "Missed you on Sunday." I stay silent, "You know. You're the only kid I ever see come in here looking the way you do." I look at him and he glances at me, sees my curiosity, and looks back ahead, "You get this look like you're trying to take in everything all at once. Looking for the smallest thing to pop out at you, including yourself. Only kid I know with that look when they come in here." I look back ahead, not really knowing what to think or how to respond.

He stays silent for a while longer before he says, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Nervousness and anxiety hits me as I think about what I want to say, how he might react, how I don't want to disappoint him, how I don't want him to be angry. How grateful I am to him and this place.

I smell burning wood and I say, "I think-," I fight past the lump in my throat, "I think I won't be coming to church anymore."

I listen to the breathing, the sound of skin subtly rustling against cloth, against the pew. The heater goes on and at some point the church settles like a house and building do if you're inside them and simply listen.

I hear him inhale before calmly asking. "May I ask why?"

I give the moment a chance to breathe before saying, "I guess I'm having…a crisis of faith." Another pause, "Things have been going on in my life. Things that…I just don't think that I can get the answer to here." I collect my thoughts, "There's things that I need to figure out. If I don't…" I'm completely botching this, "I'm sorry."

A grunt of amusement, "I get it kid." I feel a deep sense of relief, "You're getting to that point where you're thinking about what you want to do with the rest of your life. People usually are a little bit older when they start to do so, but as crazy as the world is getting. Well…I can't blame you. I couldn't tell you if the end of days is here or anything like that, but I can tell you I wouldn't be surprised if we got raptured right now." he sighs, probably thinking of at least some of the forces that have changed things.

Capes, people all of a sudden getting powers after a golden man named Scion appears. The Golden Age of Heroes. Behemoth, Leviathan, then the Simurgh. The Endbringers. Signs of the end, biblical or not, who's to say. But anyone just had to look at the aftermath of any place they touched to know things were bad. Real bad. The decline of heroes, or maybe the surge of villains sure didn't help either. Things like Nilbog, Heartbreaker, and the Slaughterhouse 9 just make you think about whether the Endbringers are even needed. We're doing a fine enough job damning ourselves as it is.

"So yeah, I get it. I assume it's private?" I nod, he grunts, "Usually is with you. Just one question, and tell it to me straight," he looks at me, "This have anything to do with the gangs?"

I look back at him and say, "No. I'm not planning on getting involved with them. For multiple reasons," my face falls, "You know at least some of them."

He simply nods and pats my shoulder a couple times before withdrawing the hand. We look back at the portrait for a moment before he says, "Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael were found dead on Saturday." I fight to not react, "They were caught up in that mess between the Teeth, ABB, and E88. What is this world coming to?"

I fight to keep the coil wound as hot tears began to fall. Fight to keep the grief filled rage from changing me. Even though it was there just tempting me to let it out, to let it burn me and those who deserved it as well.

He gets up and comes back with a box of tissues that I begin using as I croak out, "They were good people. They didn't deserve that."

"Good people don't." is all he says with watery eyes until the tears eventually run their course and stop faster than the last time. I had done most of my crying on Sunday. "The service and funeral will be on Sunday."

Before he can ask the question I respond, "I'll be there." He simply somberly smiles and gives a small approving nod in response.

A couple minutes pass in silence before I get up and say, "Thank you. As always."

He takes my hand and mumbles a prayer before patting it and releasing me with a, "Take care and stay safe."

"Amen." I instinctually answer and walk to the door.

I turn and linger, staring at the portrait.

Then I open and close the door back into the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: So for people who are worried about religious content I would honestly say don't. Obviously certain things in regard to her trigger and things/decisions that are happening in her life led to well, that last scene. The mirror is of course just a glimpse into what's behind the coiled switch. So yeah in regards to religious content there won't be any sunday school, no bible study, no sermons (probably). This is a Worm fanfic, capes are going to happen. This I believe will provide a backdrop to a slightly different insight and mindset that will I think make the story enjoyable but a little different. Y'know, like how I'm sure other fanfic writers all try to do. This is simply a subtle spin I thought of. If your still worried I will say that I will try to be aware and give a content warning if some disturbing or preachy religious stuff comes up (probably when/if Haven comes in the story. That's going to be fun.). Also just wait till the next chapter or maybe two. You'll get your pint of blood and your pound of flesh, or two.

That's the first thing. Second thing I would like to possibly head off is that yes. Sin is involved as a thinker ability. This may bring up the question and debate of what is a sin/what qualifies as a sin and what is not/what does not qualify? Maybe you can argue that any of the examples in the story so far are not. I'm going to tell you a little secret.

I'm a human being who doesn't have the authority let alone the knowledge to be the end all, be all of telling you what is a sin and what is not. I'm just someone who got jazzed about a concept while reading other various Worm fanfics. So if you argue, preach, or whatever in the comments. Then congratulations you win. But also I'm not going to care. And hopefully other people don't care as well and encourage you. Because we're all just human beings here trying to hopefully enjoy a story to take our minds off of the somewhat sucky situation that I'm sure we're all in. Stuff like this has been debated far longer than you're and my lifespan combined. I don't think that debate is going to get solved here on a forum. So just enjoy it. Jump down my throat if I write something bigotted like an interracial couple getting married and portraying it as a sin. So yeah just think of mind games she can play. Especially with capes. And when she meets the Triumvirate. Mmmmmm, delicious plans and plots. Not so much escalation, but yeah i'm excited.

Hopefully you are too and as always thank you for reading. Critique and speculate and have a nice day.