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Chapter 133: Wasting
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... my face. The dark, dusky steel had a deep handprint over the forehead where Mawar had grabbed it, but besides that, it was nearly unrecognizable from what it had been before.
When I’d learned the Denoir ball was a masquerade, I’d considered what I would like to wear in attendance. And considering the long history I’d had with vicar’s masks, it was only appropriate I’d modify one to suit my needs.
The metal along the faceplate had been sculpted to a sharpened beak instead of a nor ...
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