In A Single Bound

"Pretty girl thinks she can leap tall buildings in a single bound, carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet still manages to laugh at some of my jokes."
Richard Castle
Don't panic, it's not November yet.  I think a horrible death-knell goes off on the first of November, like a depth-charge blown in the ocean: you can feel it in your soul.  But that hasn't happened yet.  However, since I want to dedicate much of The Penslayer's time in November to The Shadow Things' birthday party (hoo rah! hoo rah!), and because I am of a whimsical disposition with a tacit disregard for rules, I'm doing snippets early.  Strangely melancholy moment: I look back at my last snippets post and I see how far I have come since then, how much has happened (it's been a whirlwind and a half); something goes slack in my heart as if I have just done some horrible, wonderful piece of magic and can't quite believe it.  But we're not done crafting this spell: no sense in getting too emotional before the bolt is out of the bow!

cheatin' - november snip-whippets
Margaret obediently took his arm—a lean, hard-corded thing that was like holding warm amber—and soon found herself taken to a little shuttered sitting room that was full of the warm yellow light of a huge fire.Plenilune
“I am not in the mood for dragon-riddles.”Plenilune
“Oh, don’t stir out of your toast,” she implored him before he could put the napkin down.Plenilune
"I am sorry you could not have met her. She was as fair to mock the fairness of Romage of Orzelon-gang, who is accounted the most beautiful woman in the Honours. By some.”Plenilune
“They say time heals wounds, but I have never believed them.”“Nor I.”Plenilune
She saw half-formed memories which did not belong to her against the pearl-pink wash of firelight, images of honour and betrayal and a crescent moon adrift in a gold cloud-spun sky.Plenilune There was a rushing noise and a bang among the logs; sparks swirled around him like fireflies on a rich summer night. Margaret’s heart caught, but he seemed unperturbed. Throwing the poker into its bin, he waved the errant flames back into the fireplace—was it her imagination, or did they seem attracted to him, and reluctant to be shut back inside the grate? Plenilune “I’ll give you no quarter,” warned Skander.Plenilune
Odd, thought Margaret, that people were willing to die for what they considered worth living for. How curious a creature man was! how full of light and darkness and paradox, the heart as of a devil and the power in his crafting hands of some sort of god. Level westward sunlight sparked on the gemmed headstall of [her companion's] mount and flung out notes of light on the dun-coloured air. How odd…Plenilune
“I am not used to employing condescending tones to my people so I’ll tell you frankly: I am surprised you dare come here and I give bare a fig for what you have to say to me. You come bold-facedly, wench, and give little deference to a lady and no honour at all to your betters!”Plenilune “Tell him we expect him for tea under the first Hare gibbous moon. I would say there’s a good girl—” he released her somewhat violently “—but then I would be lying.” Plenilune At the same instant a light sprang up high from a candle which, in the dark, Margaret had not been able to see. It had been sitting before a mirror, and the reflection-candle flung back the light with more potency than the real thing. “Moreover these whom he predestined, them he also glorified. This is a cosy little setting,” he added, looking around.Plenilune
“Mine own familiar Rhea,” [he] purred. He put forward a foot alongside hers so that he was forcing her back at a precarious angle. “Would that you could dance with me, Rhea. I would put you through your steps quick enough. I heard tell once of a queen, a wicked witch, who was given shoes of red-hot iron and made to dance and dance until she fell down dead.” His lips pulled away from his dog-teeth: Margaret wondered if Death’s smile looked so hungry and charming at once. “Would that I were hot iron shoes. Would that you could dance.”Plenilune
His words were like rods of iron heated in the furnace: hard and glowing they barred across Margaret’s heart, and though they shut out the flashing, feathered world, she felt safe behind them. “Half of us is legend,” she said, “and the rest is pain.”Plenilune