🎀 Wisteria 🎀

Imagine: priestesses of Artheria with their bellies slit open. Or a team of mercenaries, damn it, perished in a catastrophe. Picture a festering abscess in the body of a hippopotamus. And I'll calmly finish my fragrant coffee. Soon I'll meet Inar, precisely at four in the park. It's terrifying, you wouldn't have encountered such fear in school. I need caffeine, hope, a saber, a musket, and faith. That bastard Inar will try to kill me – that's what my friends told me. Since childhood, Inar has left a trail of blood, like a jackal. The first was a pediatrician, strangled with a stethoscope, Inar was six. Then everything continued in the same vein, that bastard Inar escalated things. He killed his own and others, subtracted and divided, you couldn't keep up with him. Now he needs me, no details, Inar has a contract on me. When you trade in people, a lot of shit can happen to you. When you trade near the king, that bastard Inar will come after you. Finish my coffee, go to the park, mess up Inar, and leave. That's the plan, trading in people teaches you hope and clarity. Systematic thinking, a will with a notary, fragrant coffee. Family abroad, money stashed away, there's only me and trouble. Only me and trouble, what else can you do? Business isn't fluffy. I don't have a specific plan "B," and I don't need one. Plan "B" is universal – adrenaline, fucking improvisation, and weapons. I don't have a specific plan "B," and I don't need one. Plan "B" is universal – adrenaline, fucking improvisation, and weapons. In about twenty minutes, I'll be by the tree, alive, damn it, but wounded. Inar is crawling towards the children's swings, behind him – guts, I aim at Inar. A shot to the body, the park is filled with bright greenery, I'm weak and exhausted. I'm swaying terribly, there's a sandbox ahead. Hello, my last colic. Imagine: manatees splashing together in the sunset. Or an old, blind Shen-kae beautifully performing his wushu. Picture Pion in a flawless concert. And I'll calmly give my soul to the Goddess in the sandbox. I feel sorry for the kid, but I'm not sad at all