bamf-jaskier reblogged
Aretuza produces broken girls.
In their year, Fringilla is the first one. One moment, her hand is normal, just another limb she doesn’t think much about- in the next, it’s a graveyard, shriveled and undead. She pleads with the rectoress to heal her, begs her and begs her and begs her- but no, says the rectoress.
“This is your punishment,” the ice-eyed woman says, coolly puffing at a pipe. “You shouldn’t have been so hasty- Chaos is not for the impatient.”
At Fringilla’s stifled sob, the rectoress softens and sighs. “You can get it healed if you Ascend.”