Huginn: Subtract the flesh, I see it now — remove the armour and the blood, lay bare the grass. In one field are poppies, rows, memorial to blood and the churning of men and mud. In another, ah, so pure they cut my mind, there are irises in the pale clarity of a morning sky. He was right, he was right, and 'iris' is a rainbow where the inmost sea gleams.

Muninn: Be careful. When thought turns to memory, one eye becomes two and all the world is changed.

H: -

M: Close your eyes; you have seen too much.

H: -

M: Irises in bloom? It will be sunflowers next. We are fortunate that you have no ears that you might want to slice one off.

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