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Summary
Orin’s eyes are pale stones that glitter in the dark. She does not blink often, barring dramatic effect and the pretense of humanity. Minthara maps the tendrils of blood-red ink that flow through Orin’s skin and hates herself for finding it enchanting. Orin is beautiful in the way that a burning building is the shape of freedom, beautiful in the way that a mercy killing is righteous, beautiful in the way that an apostle loves their god.
( The Absolute's Chosen roll out the red carpet for Minthara of House Baenre. )
