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A library at night is full of sounds: The unread books can’t stand it any longer and announce their contents, some boasting, some shy, some devious.
Sometimes one brother would menace her so that the other could defend her, even though she’d emphasized from the beginning that all she required of them was that they both die for her if and when such endeavor became necessary.
Her usual response was flat dismissal—she all but pointed to the door and said, “Please handle your feelings over there,”
Eirini the First held up a finger and then wistfully rocked an invisible baby, motions easily interpretable as an appeal for grandchildren. “Lovely,” Eirini the Fair murmured, drawing her head back into the boat and pretending she hadn’t seen that last bit.
lol
Well, I’m a fanciful wench, but am I a homely one?
Who’s a homely wench? Luca is, and Day is, and so are Pepper and Thalia and Hilde and Willa and anyone who is not just content to accept an invitation but wants more people to join the party, more and more and more.
With boys there was a fundamental assumption that they had a right to be there—not always, but more often than not. With girls, Why her? came up so quickly.
“And, you know—fuck everyone and everything that takes all these articulations of moodiness and tenderness and cleverness away.
