sebmojo

Born into a thunderstorm of rage and long bets he staggered upwards, upwards, falling sideways into the pond that drained out his quiff oil with a slurping miasma of cheap dates and fat pomegranates, no more the wiser for his eloquence and waving thick wads of cancelled dinarii and yen, her cyberware all a twitch with the microsonic vibratory ululations of a million tiny transmitters and the greedily iridescent maws of his sleeping godseed.