Elesh Norn - Manhandles a Mirran

How could anybody deny the beauty of this? The rightness? The absolute truth?

And yet, the Mirran she held before her still struggled. It was a foolish effort. The top of the woman's dark, tangled hair barely came to Norn's shoulder. The flesh beneath her long, clawed fingers was pitiably weak, and she merely tightened her grip to subdue her. She cried out, her arms and legs, lashed together, stiffening as blood blossomed from the wound Norn had made.

Humans were such flawed and fragile things.

***

A GARDEN OF FLESH