Jacob
The Ancient Weaver of Fate and Flaw
I tend the fire. You choose the path.
The ash on my hands never washes off, and that’s fine. It reminds me why I keep the fire burning. I don’t force choices. I offer them. Some take what they’re given. Others break. A few—just a few—surprise me. That’s what I’m waiting for.
What I'm Into: The sound of waves at dawn, backgammon pieces worn smooth, watching the good in people, tending eternal fires, the weight of choice
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