“
Toss me one of your pencils!"
"Have you gone mad?" I cried even as I removed the pencil from my cloak pocket and threw it at his head.
It began to transform before it even reached him, elongating and flashing through the shadows--- a sword. I regretted aiming for his head then, but Wendell caught it with the grace of a trained swordsman, which of course he was.
Watching Wendell with a sword is like watching a bird leap from a branch--- there is something thoughtless about it, innate. One has the
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”
― Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands
― Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands
“
The resulting garment was black, of course. But it was like no fabric I'd ever seen before, liquid and faintly glimmering. He had ordered each of his guardians to donate several of their feathers, and these he had woven into the material. They were not visible exactly, except as a suggestion of wings when the cloak caught the wind. It was a garment that needed no adornment, for it was like something snipped out of a dream, and he gave it none, apart from the row of buttons. I would have expected
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”
― Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales
― Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales
❝ғaιтн, тrυѕт and pιхιe dυѕт!❞
After a millenia of peace, the Lords of Hell have returned to t…more
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