C:~ Β«...He already made a deep cut on his palm and gave me an eager look, encouraging to do the same. Reaching for my ranseur would be very unwise, so I quickly bit into my hand until I felt a sharp bit of pain and tasted metallic cold liquid on my tongue. Thin fuchsia streams of blood spread across my fingers and I got mesmerized by the sight of my own blood, spilled by no one other than myself. He sat down and held out his hand to me, not as a sign of reconciliation, but as a ritual that would bind our destinies and finally suppress all of my will. I resisted any urge to look at his face, focusing on the candy red blood symbol on his shirt instead. "Don't make me wait." he growled. I clenched my teeth and grabbed his hand in this discraceful parody of a handshake inaugurating my complete defeat. Even one glimpse of cobalt and fuchsia mixing into a complete dirty dark mess was enough to make me nauseous; still, I stayed silent.Β» - Volume 2, page 207 of Β«Autobiography of Tsarevna: Zalgoid's only guide to troll history and cultureΒ». #cw-self-harm<