who we are and all that we're trying to be
Voting for a leader: something they hadn’t had a choice in before now, before the scalding reaches of the Merciless hissed against their figures. Had any of them ventured into the dominion prior, they might not have had the same dilemma: a monarch of their own making, well-received, wanted, rather than forced upon them. In the end though, it didn’t really matter: they were constructing it now, piece by piece, brick by brick, resistance and revolution courting their fingers as they grasped upon paper and pen.
He rose after Amalia, after Jigano, following their footsteps, standing in front of the table, reaching for the writing materials, considering, musing, calculating in his mind. Which candidate – as Wessex was also for consideration – would be the most suitable for what they had in mind? Which one would make a difference? Which one would enable their voices heard, instead of shouted down and insulted? A moment later, and he’d printed his chosen letter on the paper, folded it, and dropped it into the bowl, leaving the instruments for the next individual as he returned to his seat.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
