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clipped tone. “No, of course not. Like I said. Ask a question, and you’ll get sent to the Third. It isn’t disease that’s contagious in my ward, Captain. It’s dissent. Anarchy and rebellion spread like a wildfire. And what do you do with a fire? You blockade it. Trap it behind a wall. Give it nowhere else to go until it burns itself out and dies a quiet death. That’s what Madra’s doing with my people.
Emerging from the silver, the huge figure rose up from the pool as if ascending from the very depths of hell itself. Broad shoulders. Wet, shoulder-length black hair. Tall. Taller than any other man I’d ever seen. His eyes shone an iridescent, shimmering green, the pupil of the right eye rimmed by the same shining metallic silver that ran in ribbons from the black leather armor that covered his chest and arms.
“Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.”
That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”
Insert Forrest Gump running meme because that is how fast I would run to this man
Dying butterfly to most sacred= swoon

