A Steeping of Blood

I suppose we can save the world and have tea.

I had forgotten what it was to live until you, I forgot what it was like to have purpose.

Shed seen the world now, she knew how eager it was to swallow dreams while. How bitterness swept in and filled every crevice.

No one could save her but herself. It was both a harrowing and empowering realization at once.

There is always a choice.

No, vengeance had steeped in her blood long enough. It had changed, grown, morphed. It was retribution now.

Retribution needn't be so loud.

She belongs nowhere, and it was a very lonely place to be.

I suppose I want peace. I want to live again.

She's always been lonely, but she'd also spent most of her life in a veritable cage, and imagination often made for a good companion.

What would it be like to return to the graveyard of one's past?

Fear was a weapon the powerful wielded time and time again with excellent results.

We know people in search of power and status will use anything to get what they want.

As if she's been running her entire life only to realize she'd been going nowhere.

I always say what I mean and I never forget.

He did this often: recited the colors around him, reminding himself that the world was not black-and-white, noting the angles and the shadows and the way light was taken for granted.

She clutched her anger as if it was a rope and she was hanging on for dear life. Better anger than sorrow. Better rage than pain. Better vengeance than anguish.

There's love at the heart of his anger and pain, or he wouldn't feel either.

TO COLONIALISM: you suck

Bury me shallow, for I will return.

If Arthie Casimir wrote for the press, she'd have fired herself for such a headline.

We did have a good love story, didn't we?

She focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

She no longer sought vengeance for herself alone anymore.

Human bones are no different than a machine socketed together. We're stronger than we think.

Eyes ate more than mouths ever did, and the feast before her was delightful.

We're criminals, the good kind, anyway.