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Summary
It came to them willingly, this…EGO. Though, whether or not it could even be considered such a thing was questionable; Faust provided no answers, though she seemed unnerved by its presence.
A ‘blessing’ clung to Don Quixote, wreathed her head in angelic light whenever she entered battle. So too did a black coat, reminiscent perhaps of long-forgotten days, when plague took its course through the living in equal fashion and the weak, the desperate, the suffering called upon those noble enough to battle that which was not understood.
Don Quixote threadspins an EGO she never should've gotten. Secret Santa gift for zestydreamsicle (twitter).