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There was fear in me, a detestable thing that has nothing at all to do with notions of virility and everything to do with loss of control.
Lying broken after plummeting from the very tower where I had been made into the creature I am now gave me time to nurse the fear into something infinitely more satisfying. Not quite rage, but a sinister cousin at least and one that does not sit quite so uneasily with me.
A healing sleep, years-- decades--and who knows what this fear will have morphed into? Something would come of it, that much was certain.