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... , she was calmly looking at her sigil.
Crisis averted? it dared to hope, crossing its nonexistent fingers, tail, and fork tongue. The relief soured almost instantly. No chaos? No improvised torment? Surely Her Majesty hadn’t gone tame.
Then Eydis simply reached for her chalk and began to modify the sigil.
Ah, there it is. Envy thought, its optimism deflating rapidly. She’s just getting started. And judging by that circle, I’m either about to become a tie-dye disaster or— ...
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