1
" I can’t believe it.’ I whispered.
‘You can’t let him lure you back in, Felicia. He’s wrong. He’s wrong!’ Vanian pleaded, I could feel the quiver of his magic, the wisps that were fighting against the iron burning into his wrists, I could feel the crackle as it fought in the air, against his emotions, against his pain. I shook my head, was about to speak but Adam grabbed him by the front of his shirt; as if a few more tears and shreds couldn’t go amiss. The tightness of his grip paled the Faerie’s cheeks, caused the blood to trickle down faster, dropping to the floor.
‘My wife.’ He yelled, ‘She’s my wife, silverblood.’ With each growl of a syllable he accented it with a punch to Vanian’s face.
I couldn’t take much more. I jumped over and pulled at Adam’s shoulders, fingertips driving into the nook of his collarbone, pressing down with as much as I had in me, anything to break his hold. He recoiled and rose his hand to me, at first I flinched but I stopped. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t. "
― Charlotte Munro , Requiem City: The Butcher (Requiem City #1)
7
" A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July —
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear —
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream —
Lingering in the golden gleam —
Life, what is it but a dream? "
― Lewis Carroll
11
" You haven’t fed for several days. And you refuse to drink from me…so go…and come back soon.”
He shook his head, his dark eyes bleak as he gazed upon his wife. “I can’t leave you,” he whispered. “Last time I left you alone…” he couldn’t even finish…totally devastated. He knew he needed to feed, but how could he leave her unprotected?
Jenera moved close and took his hands in hers, peering up into his face. “Shall I come with you?” She smiled impishly, threading his hands with hers—palm to palm, relishing their skin-to-skin contact. Would she ever feel enough? Want enough? No…never she realized.
He paled and snorted a small laugh, “God no! It’s not something for my wife to witness.”
Still smiling, she lifted a brow over her branding tattoo, “Why? Is it gruesome? Carnal? Sexually explicit?”
Darién’s mouth dropped open in shock, “Uh…none of the above, kelis. It’s impersonal like eating a hamburger would be for you. "
― Beth Mikell , The Nysein: Salvation
12
" I resign, the evening seemed to say, as it paled and faded above the battlements and prominences, moulded, pointed, of hotel, flat, and block of shops, I fade, she was beginning, I disappear, but London would have none of it, and rushed her bayonets into the sky, pinioned her, constrained her to partnership in her revelry. "
― Virginia Woolf
14
" Within this restless, hurried, modern worldWe took our hearts' full pleasure - You and I,And now the white sails of our ship are furled,And spent the lading of our argosy.Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,For very weeping is my gladness fled,Sorrow has paled my young mouth's vermilion,And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.But all this crowded life has been to theeNo more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spellOf viols, or the music of the seaThat sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell. "
