El Amor es un Elemento. – Akiva.
There was some new quiet in her, but it didn’t shrink or wilt her. Rather, it seemed to enlarge her. She was no mere weapon as she was trained to be, but a woman in full command of her power, unbowed and unbroken, and that was a dangerous thing.
She wanted to climb out of her life as if it were a seashell she could abandon on the shore and walk away from, barefoot.
In truth, she had claim to no nationality. Her papers were all forgeries, and her accents -all except one, in her first language, which was not of human origin- were all fakes.
She looked at him, beautiful Kazimir whose smile used to work on her like a summons, compelling her to his side.
All the bogeymen together, sitting down to tea.
With his fort of books the hobgoblin had come to a smooching scene and shouted for them to pipe down.
A kiss must end for another to begin, and it did, and did again.
It was not a happy ending, but a happy middle – at last, after so many fraught beginnings. Their story would be long. Much would be written of them, some of it in verse, some sung, and some in plain prose, in volumes to be penned for the archives of cities not yet built.
It was enough to marvel at the end of a cycle of reprisals. How seldom it happened, in a long-standing war of hatred, that one side said, “Enough, I deserved that. Let it end here.
It’s the fuel for everything our people have done to each other since the beginning. That’s what makes peace seem impossible. How can you blame someone for wanting to kill the killer of their loved ones? How can you fault people for what they do in grief?
It’s all very nice for Christians, yes? ‘Angels’ in Rome, ‘demons’ here. How neat, how tidy for the Western world view, and how wrong.
How easily comes the blood.
There is intimacy in pain. Anyone who has comforted a sufferer knows it – the helpless tenderness, the embrace and murmur and slow rocking together as two become one against the enemy, pain.
Well,” Loraz said, her voice as dry as the rest of her was not. “At least you still have clothes on.
Have you drowned stars like they were babies in a bath? I ended the First Age, and I’ll end the second, too.
Hrapan? Harapan bisa menjadi kekuatan yang hebat. Mungkin, tidak ada sihir sungguhan didalamnya tapi jika, kamu tahu apa yang paling kamu harapkan dan menjaga nya seperti cahaya dalam dirimu, kamu bisa membuat banyak hal terjadi, nyaris serupa sihir.
No, not like bacteria, like butterflies, and some people’s butterflies react to other people’s, on a chemical level, like pheromones, so that when they’re nearby, your butterflies start to dance. They can’t help it – it’s chemical.
He’s a man, but he’s got, like, cartoon princess skin. Don’t ever tell him I said that, even though I mean it in the best possible way. He’s got the manliest cartoon princess skin.
To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than the last.