“So, ah, I'm not sure if you know this, but you're not wearing a shirt."
"Distracting, isn't it?”
“It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.”
“I highly regret this day in advance.”
“If you want to touch me, Kendall, touch me. Don't hide behind those little girl slaps.”
“Jacian Obregon. It sounds like a melody. Or a tragedy.”
“A trapped soul waits for redemption.
It waits. And waits.
For her to take her last breath.”
“WE
We feel the heat, and for a moment, We believe! Life is back. But this heat is intense, not gentle. Not submissive but searing. Painful.
We moan, scream, Our face cracking like gunfire... like a whip. Thirty-five, one hundred. One hundred! ONE HUNDRED!
The fire consumes our wooden host. It burns, breaks, explodes. Releases Our remaining souls to travel to Our final resting places.
Or.
To find new places to hide.
And wait.
Touch me.”
“Go force your condescending man-logic on the next house. You can go now.”
“WE
When it is over, we breathe and ache like old oak, like peeling birch. One of Our lost souls set free. We move, a chess piece in a dark room, cast-iron legs moving a centimeter at a time, crying out in silent carved graffiti. Calling to Our next victim, Our next savior. We carve on Our face:
Touch me.
Save my soul. ”
“Jacián!" She yells again, and then she says something in Spanish.
A moment later he comes down the hallway. "I'm going to tell Grandfather you said that," he says. "What do you want?”
“She knows some of her thoughts are irrational. She knows it and has always known it, even in fifth grade, when she used to layer on clothes - four shirts, three pairs of underwear, shorts under her jeans - anxiously, frantically crying her eyes out for fear people could see her naked through her clothes.
What an awful time that was. Fear like that is constant, tiring.”
“People flock in, nevertheless, in search of answers to those questions only librarians are considered to be able to answer, such as "Is this the laundry?" "How do you spell surreptitious?" and, on a regular basis, "Do you have a book I remember reading once? It had a red cover and it turned out they were twins.”
“Our camels plodded along. Katrina tried to kiss, or possibly spit on Hindenburg, and Hindenburg farted in response. I found this a depressing commentary on boy-girl relationships.”
“Relationships are ropes. Love is a noose. - Durzo Blint”
“If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”
“Ham turned back, still smiling. "You make it sound so desperate, El."
Elend looked over at him. "The Assembly is a mess, a half-dozen warlords with superior armies are breathing down my neck, barely a month passes without someone sending assassins to kill me, and the woman I love is slowly driving me insane."
Vin snorted at this last part.
"Oh is that all?" Ham said. "See? It's not so bad after all. I mean, we could be facing an immortal god and his all-powerful priests instead.”
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