An Enchantment of Ravens

by Margaret Rogerson

Besides, what on earth would I do with men’s hearts? I couldn’t make an omelette out of them.

My cheeks warmed, and a wistful pang plucked a sweet, sad chord in my stomach. It was simple, really. He didn’t want me to forget him once he’d gone.

What must it be like? To meet someone, to forge a connection, all in the span of one golden afternoon—only to find out that for her, each passing minute was a year. Each second, an hour. She would be dead before the sun rose the next day. A keen, quiet pain twisted my heart.

Walking along a blade’s edge was only fun until the blade stopped being a metaphor.

And its penalty? Oh, you know how these stories go. Of course it’s death, with one exception.

But isn’t absurdity part of being human?

We aren’t ageless creatures who watch centuries pass from afar. Our worlds are small, our lives are short, and we can only bleed a little before we fall.

pride goeth before a fall.

“Perfect subjects make for less interesting work.”

God, what a menace.

crazy 😭

“Is that so terrible? You say it as though it’s the most awful thing you can imagine. It isn’t as though I’ve done it on purpose. Somehow I’ve even grown fond of your—your irritating questions, and your short legs, and your accidental attempts to kill me.”

Now stop making me feel things,” he demanded, as though it were as easy as that. “I must think.”

Frankly, I had no idea how anyone knew if they were in love in the first place. Was there ever a single thread a person could pick out from the knot and say “Yes—I am in love—here’s the proof!” or was it always caught up in a wretched tangle of ifs and buts and maybes?

fr 😔😔

This was a look that would make time stop, if it could. Soft and sharp at once, an aching tenderness edged with sorrow, naked proof of a heart already broken.

“Just now you were almost assassinated by a teapot.” “Isobel.” Rook looked at me gravely. “Isobel, listen. The teapot is of no consequence. I can defeat anyone, at any time.”

In Aster’s eyes rage, true human rage, struggled like a fire guttering wildly in the night.

We may last forever, but you bloom brighter and smell sweeter, and draw blood with your thorns.”

love you wholly. I love you eternally. I love you so dearly it frightens me. I fear I could not live without you. I could see your face every morning upon waking for ten thousand years and still look forward to the next as though it were the first.”

In another world, it might have been our last kiss. In this one, I wouldn’t allow it.

The ff writers are gonna go feral with the AUs

Beneath the heavy brows his eyes searched through an eternity of years, seeking the present, looking for an hour and a day less significant to him than a single mote of dust suspended in the air among uncountable thousands.

“I love you more than the stars in the sky. I love you more than Lark loves dresses.”