maddened monk ---
A boy took a cup and shattered it against the ground. he refused to look at it again; the prince refused to look at the pieces of black clay he left on the floor. No matter if he bled on the shards. He did not look at them.
He had fun with the cup, beforehand. He praised its shape, he praised its form. He lied. He made the cup believe itself worthy of something.
You cannot put back the cup together. The shards desire to pierce skin. To bleed you out.
You will shatter many cups more, you will find many little porcelain dolls to break, yes,
But I do not forget, sellsword, I do not forget. And by sea, and by air, and by earth, I will track down the brilliant red star of your heart,
And I will shatter it as you did with my soul. In the threads of blood above the sky I will hunt you down, and every new doll you get I shall infect, I shall curse, I shall bleed out into mattresses like the plague you brought into my chest.
God can hide you only for so long, sellsword. Spite alone holds me aloft. And I see your rose-red star nearer. You will look at me and see the shards you refused to pick up.
