The Exorcism of Faeries (Morbid Realities, #1)

by J.L. Vampa

The blossom sprouting from his lungs.

Page 394.

all he’d wanted to do was crack open her mind and swim in it.

It seemed to her that his voice was deeper when he spoke to her. Far less charismatic and more guarded.

No one had the right to look that alluring with nerdy glasses and a sullen attitude.

“I’m vintage, darling.”

Fuckable in a scholarly way,’”

Though, she was convinced people looked like their cars and pets.

It felt like magic, like one of those ethereal moments that makes one feel simultaneously filled to the brim with joy and drowning in despair because you know there will never be a moment exactly like it ever again.

Things would be different if people weren’t so fucking scared all the time

I’ll be your sunshine if you’ll be my rain.”

she pondered how peculiar it is that something transcendent, something unparalleled, can take place and yet humans still walk, breathe, move, live the same. Things like hunger and exhaustion should cease to exist in the face of the sublime, the tragic. And yet, there they are. It felt blasphemous.

“Ní mhaireann solas na maidine don lá.”⁠*

He knew the moment he’d fallen. It was standing there in The Old Library, holding a book in his hand as she told him she’d watched him years ago, stand the same way in the same library. When she’d laughed and said it was annoying, when he had that first laugh, he knew then and there he'd set the world on fire for her. Slay a thousand beasts, cure any Plague, fight to the death. For her. His Patroclus.

If he were to die, she’d envy the soil that cradled him in its arms, the flora that sprouted from his bones.