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Summary
The researcher let a breath out from her nose, made visible from the cold. “My… my pictos give me aches… sometimes…”
“So you made this medicine for yourself.” Sciel stated and Lune nodded.
“I… might need you to use that ointment where I can’t reach.”
Slowly and attentively Sciel traced every single gold line, careful to not let any of them escape her eyes, feeling the tension in Lune’s shoulders under her fingers.
“I often wondered where these started and ended.”