Daughters of Darkness

Even when we're apart, we'll be looking at the same sky!

Jeremy: "Who did it? Wait-you think I did. Don't you?" Ash: "It did cross our minds at one point. Actually, it seemed to keep crossing them. Back and forth. Maybe we should put in a crosswalk.

I don't need to kill goats to say things. I CAN talk.

The thing is- and I know this is going to sound strange-that I seem to love you sort of desperately

QUINN; You always look after Number One, don't you? ASH; Doesn't everybody?

Ash held one finger up. "OK. Now listen-" Mary-Lynnette kicked him in the shins. She knew it was inapporopriate, she knew it was uncalled-for, but she couldn't stop herself. She just had to. "Oh, for God's sake," Ash said, hopping backward. "Are you crazy?

Ash stripped some of the papery purple bark off his yew stick. "And, you see, it's difficult because what I've always thought about humans-what I was always raised to think…" "I know what you've always thought," Mary-Lynnette said sharply. Thinking, vermin. But," Ash continued doggedly, "the thing is-and I know this is going to sound strange-that I seem to love you sort of desperately.

Look, I'll fight, too. What do you think it is? Bear, coyote...?" "My brother." "Your..." Dismay pooled in Mark. She'd just stepped over the line of acceptable craziness. "Oh.

I would have understood if they had killed him.

She had the feeling that she would be different from now on, that she could never go back and be the same person she had been. So who am I now? Somebody fierce, I think. Somebody who’d enjoy running through the darkness, underneath stars bright as miniature suns, and maybe even hunt deer. Somebody who can laugh and death

Like what she felt when she looked at the Lagoon Nebula. Or imagined galaxies gathered into dusters and superclusters, bigger and bigger, until size lost any meaning and she felt herself falling. She was falling now. She couldn't see anything except his eyes. And those eyes were strange, prismlike, changing colour like a star seen through heavy atmosphere. Now blue, now gold, now violet. Oh, take this away. Please, I don't want it.

The thing is and I know this is going to sound strange- that I seem to love you sort of desperately.

Warmth. Well-being. And a taste not like copper, but like something rich and strange. Later, she'd always grope for ways to describe it, but she could only think of things like: well a little bit like the way vanilla bean smells, and a little bit like the way silk feels, and a little bit like the way a waterfall looks.