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Summary
“My father once told me that to govern one must —excuse my language— eat a lot of shit.” Erwin replied, firm. “But not only do you have to be good at eating shit, you must learn to savor it.”
“I’m not just some governor, I’m the Queen.”
You sound like you are throwing a tantrum, the Body chuckled, slouched in the periphery of her eyesight. Historia no longer minded her, once she realized the haunt felt like company.
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A non-linear exploration of grief, memory, and love.
(Childhood, rebirth, death, parturition)