Gift One is the Sense, simultaneously the most necessary and burdensome. That itch of proximate mortals, delicate flickers, tired stardust wicks experimenting with slivers of Him.
such organizations resonate in a perfect center, behind the eyes...between the ears...homing pigeon's bit of iron. constantly orienting, track-while-scan, no off. usually the first change to manifest, a languid realization of every one's pulse and capacity for laughter.
sometimes it is felt, a chill..."being watched"...a sinking reptile intuition. the consideration of Azrael is usually dismissed, as it is an occasional universal experience.
In Soviet Russia, the pipe smokes you!
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