Reaction: Lear L
[So many fucking people these days were too fucking squeamish. Lear remembered not so fucking long ago, when blood spilled was an offering. Guts and bellies, torn throats, chickens, goats, children, enemies. Fucking sacrifice. Lear missed those days. This shit brought a near sense of nostalgia to the godthing. He didn't hang around the boring fucking shop, but he liked the days he could taste blood in the air.]