Was it possible to feel nostalgic about something that had never happened to him, possible for nostalgia to be taken in by the body as a free pathogen to infect the consciousness with stray sentiments? Perhaps, in his dreams, he had traveled back in time, or even drifted into another dimension of space-time and inhabited the body, experiences, and nostalgia of another. To even envisage so allowed the trauma of those lost moments, though not his own, to draw from him a certain envy for the entity in whose memories he had basked vicariously. . .Perhaps, nostalgia was a microorganism. . .the bacterium that infected. . . Yes. . .maybe he was sick.
As he hurtled through the air Simon saw the boiling emerald fire hit his protective spell and explode into sickly green sparks, inches from where Falamir was still crouched, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him.
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As he hurtled through the air Simon saw the boiling emerald fire hit his protective spell and explode into sickly green sparks, inches from where Falamir was still crouched, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him.
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And sometimes I believe your relentless analysis of June leaves something out, which is your feeling for her beyond knowledge, or in spite of knowledge. I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.What will you do after you have revealed all there is to know about June? Truth. What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world.
I jolt up, a scream lodged in my throat. Drops of sweat roll down my forehead and my throat hurts as if I've been screaming for a long time.
My death granted immortality.With one look, I knew he__ be my undoing_ Forgotten, book #1 of the Fate Trilogy
I am called by many names: Destiny, Fate, Fortune; however, I prefer Moira, for it sounds as if I have a heart. I do not.I oversee human destinies, and all things happen exactly as I intend. Some try to deceive me, but I am Moira. I will not be cheated.
Now of course in hindsight, such a wonderful thing, though never around when you actually need it, I know that I always loved her deeply.