#21315 - It wasn’t hard to picture her in Germany in 1947, covered in the gore of her wrath after what the Seraphim had manipulated and arranged to teach her about her place in their ‘Truth’; every Cherub had within them the capacity for hot vengeful wrath to equal the depth of their love. “What in the fuck am I looking at Samael?” Serielle asked me. We spoke on this and other things as I drove to the address I’d written on my gum.
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