“As if she had summoned them, a flurry of stones flew out of the darkness, striking his mail, pinging off his helm. One hit his unprotected leg and he yelped and clutched it. That was a mistake. The second barrage was entirely directed at his legs.”
“Cogswhallop glanced skeptically at the complex runes. "Are you sure this'll work, gen'ral?"
"Of course I'm sure-"
Ping. The silvery note echoed in the cramped room. Makenna felt her face turn scarlet.”
“Did the priest you mentioned tell you about them? Or did he send you out to blunder along on your own?They're an odd lot. Half of them are soldiers, or priests in disgui- Ah.Is your priest with them?"
"No!" He snapped.
Ping. He jumped. He'd forgotten the bell.
"I mean, I don't know". Ping. "There is no particular priest."Ping. He bit his lip and fell silent.”
“The lingering laughter fled from his eyes as he realized that he'd given himself away. "Where's Fiddle now?"
"Safe and cared for. Safer than you'll be if you don't answer my questions."
Ping.
He managed not to laugh, but it looked like a hard fight.
"Dung," Makenna muttered. the knight's expression changed to startled disapproval. A prig, as he? Maybe she could use that.
"I said you should let me handle this," Cogswhallop told her. "I'd have meant it.”
“...You think I lead these people for my own whim? I lead these people, honorable knight, because they have no one but me. Because they came to me when the humans slaughtered their families and drove them out. And I'll keep this place safe for them no matter how much spying and lying and killing it takes. You've never been a commander, lordling, or you'd know that it's easy to prate about honor when you're not responsible for others' lives. But let me tell you a bit of truth--sometimes honor doesn't get it done.”
“A rat is more alive than a turtle.
A turtle is slow, cold, mechanical, nearly a toy, a shell with legs. Their deaths didn’t count. But a white rat is quick and warm in its envelope of skin”
“painting, in music, in literature or theater? If so, did that make the rest of the world nothing more than the audience? Passive observers whose only contribution was applause or criticism?”
“- Tu e o Brad vão domir na mesma cama e ter sexo?
O Chuck diz que os pais dele têm sexo na cama, que fica mesmo no quarto ao lado. Diz que a mãe fz barulhos como se lhe doesse.
Os homens devem usar preservativo para vocês não ficare enjoadas ou terem filhos sem querer - disse Simon e, acenando com a cabeça com ar sensato, acabou de comer as uvas - O pai do Chuck tem alguna na gaveta ao pé da ama.
- Simon McCourt, não tens de andar a revistar a gaveta do Sr. Barriste.
- Foi o Chuck que viu. Tirou um e veio mostrar-mo. Têm um ar engraçado. Mas o Brad tem de usar um para ter sexo contigo, senão ficas enjoada.”
“Her life was like her house—a colorful fantasy where anything was possible if you wanted it badly enough.”
“He sank to his knees.
"I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what you want from me. Quoi tu veux," he murmured, over and over, until the whirring noise slowed and his fingers curled deep into the mud.
~Remy”
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