BRUH SIR U R A PRIEST
“His hand, roughened with the scythe, slid over her knuckles. He did not speak. Suddenly Vasya understood why the women all begged him for prayers; understood, too, that his warm hand, the strong bones of his face, were a weapon, to use where the weapons of speech had failed.
He would get her obedience thus, with his rough hand, his beautiful eyes.”
— Dec 20, 2025 10:04PM
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