Kindness strips you of your masks & armour and leaves you to the devices of carrion and highwaymen who harrass and (b)eat you, then leave you shredded but not dead, till cold wind eats your dessicated bone, all the while your heart still beating. With your last breath, Kindness will grasp your heart in her hands; she will grin as your mind fades and your soul slips. That final mask will fall off and you will see Kindness for all he his – a hooded, cloaked spectre of bone – boney digits of one hand clasped around a shaft of woode bereft of time, tipped by a shiny Scythe, and the other, outstretched, will offer you a blade hilt first.
pj 