novab227
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Summary
The hand holds onto his arm, unmoving.
It's rather small and nigh weightless. The hold isn't particularly tight, yet when Flins tries to dislodge the hand, it doesn't bulge. The Lightkeeper sighs. What a nuisance.
“It is quite silly of the feared Sinner to play games.”
He gets no response.
Flins is lonely. Rerir lends a helping hand. Or, rather, multiple hands.
Bookmarked by novab227
04 Jan 2026