She'd spoken of their happiness as though it were an undeniable fact, no matter what happened--apart from everything else and not subject to it. It was a new idea for him, that happiness wasn't a mystical place to be reached or won--some bright terrain beyond the boundary of misery, a paradise waiting for them to find it--but something to carry doggedly with you through everything, as humble and ordinary as your gear and supplies. Food, weapons, happiness.With hope that the weapons could in time vanish from the picture.
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..and when he let her go, it was as if she had been filled and didn't realize it until he pulled away and the absence rushed back in.
She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.
Your soul sings to mine. My soul is yours, and it always will be, in any world.
You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?
Don't I deserve to finally be free of you?
Love is a luxury.""No. Love is an element."An element. Like air to breathe, earth to stand on.
It is a condition of monsters that they do not perceive themselves as such. The dragon, you know, hunkered in the village devouring maidens, heard the townsfolk cry __onster!_ and looked behind him
Liraz snorted, caught off guard, and the tension between them ebbed away. "I'm sorry of my almost dying interrupted your almost kissing.
In one of his darker moments, the irony started him laughing and he couldn't stop, and the sounds that came from him, before finally tapering into sobs, were so far from mirth they might have been the forced inversion of laughter-like a soul pulled inside out to reveal its rawest meats.
And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not__hey were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.
I'm afraid they're in love," he said, concerned. "They don't want to leave you." He lifted one hand from her waist to gently brush a pair from her neck, where their wings fanned against her jaw. Melancholy, he said, "I know just how they feel.
Life is you master, or death is.