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𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

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"𝘌𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴
𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐
𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯."

Whose to say you really know someone at all? How do you know who they really are? Is it exploring the wonders of their personality, memorising every little part and it's function? Or perhaps it's tracing their facial features until you could draw ...

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Whose to say you really know someone at all? How do you know who they really are? Is it exploring the wonders of their personality, memorising every little part and it's function? Or perhaps it's tracing their facial features until you could draw a photo of them blind. What did it mean to know someone?

Each person was a mystery waiting to be solved, everybody had their secrets. Some obvious, some hidden away in the darkest corner of a closet. Seraphina should've known that Sturmhond would have needed more than a closet to hide his secret, after all, with him it was always go big or go home.

The person standing in front of her was Sturmhond, there was no mistaking it in a few of his features, but this was not the man she had been so fond of. His nose was endearingly crooked, his hair was as gold as a dark ancient coin and his eyes were clear of their usually muddiness, replaced with a bright hazel that resembled a smooth pool of melted chocolate.

Saints, did he still have to be handsome? Why couldn't he have resembled a toad, or an ugly roach?

Seraphina failed to swallow the lump in her throat, an uncomfortable hurt had settled deep in her stomach and confusion hung above her head like a sign. She turned her head in the sunlight to scope out the rest of the crew's reactions, but they were not fazed nor surprised by the fact that this was not Sturmhond.

The only people who mirrored her uncertainty were Mal and Alina, who looked just as baffled as she did.

Everyone else knew. All this time, they had known.

The puzzle pieces began to fall into place, this is what she had caught Tamar talking about. Tamar knew. She didn't even think to tell her. She watched Seraphina infatuate herself with the privateer and didn't consider that it was important she knew.

It had to be a cruel joke. Any moment now, the real Sturmhond would appear, she'd punch him in the shoulder and the two of them would joke about the prank. She waited and waited, but no one moved an inch.

This was real, this was happening.

"You have a tailor," Alina's voice broke the silence. Sturmhond winced.

"I am not a tailor," Tolya said angrily.

Of course it had been Tolya. A bitter laugh escaped Seraphina.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇, Nikolai LantsovWhere stories live. Discover now