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tell me, midnight hands. am i really just a distorted reflection of you, broken up by the pounding of the waters of time? as the ocean loves the moon, so do i love the owner of the other half of my heart, no matter what name she goes by, what form she takes. that's my fate, isn't it? to seek her out, no matter where or what timeline. a butterfly goes by on the breeze. i hold a forbidden blade in my hand, passed down from father to daughter. i set my eyes on the horizon, dying light. i go...