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Summary
“If you are to mock me, do me the kindness of using my name as you do so.” The oasis keeper requested, still smiling broadly. “My name is Kara.”
There is danger in a name, but that is only because you wish to grasp it despite the barbs that encompass it, and Lena wanted to hold on with both hands - one syllable in either fist.
“Kara.” Lena repeated, tasting it in her mouth, how her tongue formed it like it had been saying it for decades.