hypothetically if you poured gold down your jilted gay ex-political partner's throat and then cut them open once it had set would you be able to get a cast of their insides and display it in front of your altar to the god of your city and hang pretty little glass ornaments on it and kiss it for luck and have sex in front of it with the only other surviving member of your weird necromancer ancestral curse old man military polycule and occasionally consult it to predict the future. or must i dream in vain.
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true friendship is when you make your pet twink boytoy demagogue dress up like your weird tyrant poetfriend's dead ex and send him to go haunt him (erotically) at the blood sacrifice
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beheading but in like a soft and sensual way
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no little poet boy dont go into the meat cave
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kinda gay to gouge another man's eye out. what are you gonna do to his gaping eye socket
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shirking your military responsibilities to go sneak away for a quickie with your rival/lover/weird evil gay co-general in the Suspiciously Meat-Coloured Cave nearby (that went unnoticed by your scouts) and getting your pants off only for him to smash your head against the wall so hard your skull fractures, use your blood and a few bone fragments to summon the ancient avatar of a city god you thought died eons ago, trap it and absorb its essence into himself, get really freaky with the poetry for a few seconds before temporarily becoming an eldritch being of indescribably horrific proportions and pouring molten gold (don't ask where it came from) down your spasming throat. then that asshole doesn't even give you the courtesy of a quick death - not even after the skull-smashing and gold-pouring - bc his new spooky god powers keep you alive until the gold cools enough to form a cast of your insides and he slices you down the middle to peel your flesh back and get at the cast. and then after that you cant fucking die even if your body's well and truly fucked youre forced to relive your own death again and again in his poetry and glory songs and your guts are literally bared and on display as an altar for the aforementioned Presumed Dead God and and I swear I had a point for where this was going but whatever. no little poet boy not the meat cave oh nooooooo
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rhys decorates the golden cast of argent's intestines in front of the altar with pretty little fairy lights and baubles and stickers and draws little hearts all over it and. mmaybe licks it sometimes. as a treat. and on special occasions/festivals he displays it in front of the palace and all the heads of the great houses have to kiss it and pay their respects otherwise rhys will Probably just. stab them because yes he did totally Kill That Guy In A Fit Of Divine Madness and make a cast out of his innards at the behest of the aforementioned hungry god but also haha what are you talking about this is my good friend general pyrrha hes very alive and deserving of respect. and eos thinks that when you die your soul turns to gold bc of the altar and that totally doesn t lead to some silly silly things happening when she become s the vessel .tee hee.
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so far we have goddess of thinly veiled queer metaphors and god of hole
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