Ammit consecrates her avatar to herself.

Caesar and Brutus pursue a little light Jupiter-and-Ganymede roleplay in these trying times.

"You have hairier feet than a satyr."

"Don't be an idiot, Achilles, they've got hooves."

"Hairier than a satyr's ass, then. And they stink."

Companion art to fic: En Bon Desir.

When Primo returns from Rome the boy is dead. It doesn't last.

Longing makes the world bright and the yearner blind, he knows, but even without his want soaking through and staining it, he thinks— he would be sure.

"I can’t even take you home," he says, with coolly enforced casualness. "You know that, don’t you? Even if I ripped up every threshold in The Unclean Realm, the bagua will stop you. The Stone Castles can’t shelter you, either, nor can the Sabre Halls."

Crash needs Ginger. Ginger wants Crash.

October 14: En route to Varna, Seward must tell a fellow suitor what transpired one night at Hillingham.

Fletcher and Neiman in collision.