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“I will pay you twenty chits to fuck off right now,”
Always bullying my sweet Carrion. Rude as heck.
A thick silence filled the library as everyone processed this. I waited for Fisher to refuse the suggestion, but when I saw his dark scowl, I realized that he wasn’t going to shoot down Carrion’s plan after all. He looked like he wanted to murder him. Instead, he said, “Fine. But I swear to the gods, if you talk the entire time, I will kill you and leave your carcass for the crows, Carrion Swift.”
Rude, again.
Her eyes flashed daggers at me when she pitched up at my side, and I braced for the shit-kicking I was about to receive. “We don’t torture people,” she said, her tone full of ice. “Carrion tortures me daily,” I muttered.
Always the abuse to that sweet angel.
“It feels like trying to make sand flow backward in an hourglass. It feels like being surrounded by people and being the only one who can’t find the air in the room. It’s drowning on dry land. It’s the hollow ache of something that you know, from that moment on, will always be missing. It is a pain so acute and incurable that poets, pirates, and politicians alike die from it. And it never ends.”
