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One The princess wants me dead.
This thought rattled around my head, reverberating off even the farthest reaches of my conscious. I mean, this had to be the reason I was arrested by the royal guard in these early hours before the dawn, then brought down here to the dungeons to be strapped down in the near-blackness. The "fair" Princess Celestia was known to the public as a wondrous and kind leader, though in the past few years of my existence, I swear I've seen her dark side more than once. The way she addresses those who have committed crimes, that look in her eyes... Surely she wasn't a goody four-hooves all the way through? And coming from the unsavoury corners of the royal alicorn family blood-line, I certainly had the ability to her all the rumours about how cruel Celestia could be. The sweet little sun bringer, locking away even petty thieves in dank cellars with no provisions, or sending family to the moon for millennium.
Certainly she would not hold
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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