The fire spat green sparks.
Three figures waited by the tree. Their faces were his, but younger. Sharper. Smiling like wolves who’d learned to wrap presents. Igra --Santaz incesta-- -v0.1.7-dev- Avtor- Slutogen
“Tonight,” the third said, untying the velvet rope from the tree, “you remember why we call it incesta .” The fire spat green sparks