I saw her again, the avatar. Garbed as a swashbuckler and lovely beyond reason. In the company of the dread pirate, a man I come to find was a knave of the blackest stripe.
The pattern appears and the players are drawn along its shattered axes. The foil shows herself, drawn to me, as she always is. I’m so fucking weak. Lonliness sapping away all my brave plans.
But now my understanding of the pattern is more complete. I should be able to recognize the cycle immediately when it starts again, not halfway through the dance, when it is too late.