Choice dips his brush into a pot, then sets about his job. Slowly, he creates a sword, running the length of her back. It's a tedious process, for all the tattoos look quite real. Silver and black and white... various colours are added... cold and steel and magic imbued... humanity, immortality, knowledge, sight, power, wisdom...

Ruin crouches in front of Mary Anne, his eyes on her, his own memory of the experience suddenly very vivid. It had been painful for him, but Moon had told him Reue hadn't thought it all that terrible. It had been more emotional than physical for his daughter.