![]() His job is to keep the peace at the ports, let visitors know the power of their visas, make sure no one leaves. He’s never been a political man, he lies to himself, all this talk of blockades and coups is above his pay grade. A nervous soldier watches from a distance, unconsciously fingering the trigger of his blaster. Men stand alongside those cages, some dreaming of a home outside the walls. In the walled city of Iziz the caged beasts howl songs about their own matted fur into air that tastes like violence.
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