a. z. fell
She/Her
30
December 21st
Fortree, Hoenn
Bisexual
Surviving
Civillian
i'm just a demon who goes along with hell as far as she can.
[attr="class","samcam"] In what was perhaps the plot twist of the fucking century, the joke was on Freya.
She was doing good. She was going to continue doing good. She was going do to so much fucking good, and the League could go get fucked.
“Not to ‘um, actually’ you, but there’s a spot in the brain where the memories live: the temporal lobe. Everyone’s brain is a little different-- er, hypothetically--,” she air-quotes that, because Freya doesn’t really need to explicitly know how many criminal’s brains she’d gone digging in, “--and sometimes they’re buried in little nooks or crannies, but you just need a good hook and whist! You can flick ‘em out.” She twirls one metal finger in the air, other hand on her hip. “Then you just need something to patch up the gap. I use songs, mostly. The brain likes music.”
She’s tangenting. Shakes her head like an etch-a-sketch.
“I like to think there’s something in there. But I’m a sentimental bitch.”
She scrubs a hand over her face and sighs at Freya’s next question.
“Yes. But I think I can do it, anyway. I pulled Rose’s arm apart and put it back together, so I can do the same with ol’ Bertha, here.”
She pats the creature on the flank.
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