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Summary
"Great-grandmama," whines one of her nameless acolytes, one who will soon be tossed into a lake of burning acid, "romanticizing and eroticizing death is fine and all, but maybe not in front of the larvae?"
"Silence." Savathûn raises her arms, gesturing for quiet. The crystal glitters in the almost-light. "Your Queen embarks now on a new project. Aiat."
