His eyes close and he lets go, something complete, something finished, something never ending. He pulls his hand away, unmarked, unscarred, dirty with blood, and lets his head fall back, the dagger slipping between the fingers of his other hand like an old lover's hair.
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His eyes close and he lets go, something complete, something finished, something never ending. He pulls his hand away, unmarked, unscarred, dirty with blood, and lets his head fall back, the dagger slipping between the fingers of his other hand like an old lover's hair.