The Song of Achilles

by Madeline Miller

Except for the last, which he ate, the dark flesh parting to pink seeds under his teeth. The fruit was perfectly ripe, the juice brimming. Without thinking, I brought the one he had thrown me to my lips. Its burst of grainy sweetness filled my mouth; the skin was downy on my tongue. I had loved figs, once.

Hannibal reference trust

I would know it in dark or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness.

Oh :')

He smiled. “Now I know how to make you follow me everywhere.”

KILL MEEEEUHHHH