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“Almost every single person in this opera,” said Greta, “is behaving like a complete idiot, and I love it. Can I have more champagne?”
He would have his revenge. Somehow, soon, he would have it. Ruthven had not defeated him the last time they had met: that had been … a setback, that was all. An inconvenient little setback.
Cope harder lmao
And he liked being the
wolf. There was a certain profound and simple satisfaction in knowing that you could bite directly through somebody’s femur without so much as loosening a tooth; and few people stopped to argue with an animal that stood about four foot six at the shoulder, with implacable amber eyes. It was also of use that he could, when he put a little effort into it, render himself nearly unnoticeable to ordinary human eyes—except in bright sunlight, when the shadow he cast remained visible.
Soon Ruthven would come to him, attempting to rescue his little friend, and then Corvin would have satisfaction at long last. He let himself imagine those silver-white eyes widening in fear and understanding, that pale patrician face twisted in a grimace. Imagined him begging. Please, I entreat you, spare me.
LMAO. Is this you? Eddie would never
“We are,” she said. “Ruthven is a helper. I think Mister Rogers once said that: after any disaster, look for the helpers, look for the people who step in to try to make things better.
I’m going to cry, this is so sweet.
Sofiria didn’t reply, and Greta looked at her more closely, and was a little appalled to see her eyes brimming with red-tinged tears. This must be the first time anybody’s told her that, she realized, since it happened; she must have been thinking that it was her fault. Aloud she said, “This should not have happened to you, and I’m sorry that it did, but—you don’t have to deal with it like this, down here among the edgelords and the murderers.
I would throw down for her in a heartbeat. Poor Emily…
He’s not just gone for her, he has no idea what to do about it.
OMG LMAO
“One thing,” said Lucia, standing in the doorway as they set off down the hall. “They’re making more of themselves, we’re almost sure. Young ones. Very young.” She closed the door behind her with a final click, leaving Varney and Ruthven staring at one another with almost-identical expressions of horror.
Corvin and Yves are so beyond dead. They just don’t know it yet.
