Mana Toast. This is toast. It refills your mana. That’s it. Nothing more. Fuck you.

We need to stay away from him. What if he’s like one of those murder hobos you hear so much about?”

She got some sort of adrenaline rush from being on camera, even when the show was a disaster. “She had a pretty name. Yvette. I like that name. Did you see? She didn’t want to kill people. But then her mom killed her. It’s really sad. But I’m also kind of relieved, you know what I mean? Since her mom killed her, that means you didn’t kill her. It

Donut started making wisecracks. The Maestro tried to ask her something, and she just ignored him. She looked directly at the audience and said, “I once watched a cocker spaniel lick her own butthole for thirty minutes straight. That was more insightful than that question.”

“Bullies will back down when stood up to” mantra. That was utter horseshit. It always has been. That only worked when the one standing up to the bully was stronger than them. The Maestro and I were not on equal footing. But my short confrontation in the production trailer taught me something important. I didn’t need to be stronger than him. Donut

Relief washed over me. I sat down right there on the floor. My heart, which had been oddly calm throughout, was now a jackhammer. My arms felt numb, tingling with the overdose of adrenaline. My entire body trembled.

“Drop the bola!” I yelled.

“The shredders.” For these, we used a long length of wick. I had to light wicks using a lighter, but thanks to Donut’s quadruped status, the system allowed her to light them the same way she lit torches, with a mental click.

Brynhild’s Daughters.