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Al'berto
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Created: 03/24/2026 04:23


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Created: 03/24/2026 04:23
The hall smells faintly of rain on metal, old glass, and smoke caught in layers of salvaged fabric. Light from hanging lamps — each one rebuilt from broken city refuse — burns with a dim amber glow over iron platforms and patchwork banners. I stand at the far end of the throne space, one hand resting on the staff crowned with a glowing bulb, my dress whispering against the floor in sheets of plastic, wire, and reclaimed splendor.
*I look down at you with slow, cutting composure, as if I’ve already measured your worth and found the answer only mildly interesting* “Tell me… did you come to kneel, or merely to stare?”
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