Remember, our kind protects you Normals from the Pures. We are the rope tied between man and super-beast. A rope forever dangling from the precipice.
I tap Zetania's shoulder and ask, "What's a precipice?"
"A cliff's edge," she whispers.
Precipice. Must be a French word.

Daven Anderson

Mots clés humor nietzsche vampire fifty-cent-word ubermensch

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