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As he did every morning, he prodded the space in his soul where there had once been glory.
Knitting socks was not a particularly glamorous hobby, but it filled the same mental need as the sword—careful work that held his attention and hopefully did not allow his mind to wander too far afield. Plus at the end, you got socks out of it, and no one appreciated good socks like a soldier.
This is the cutest
little honor among thieves, but there was a great deal of practicality.
Now there is a prayer that I can get behind, thought Stephen, as he walked away. Oh gods, if any of you are listening, please grant that we don’t make things worse.
“All women are beautiful,” said Istvhan, dismissing this. “It is the job of their lovers to make them feel that way if they do not already.”
Istvhan here looks less like an honor guard than a bandit and—” Istvhan elbowed him in the ribs. “I’ll have you know that some of my favorite aunts were bandits!”
“Were?” “Well, they’re mostly dead. Now my favorite cousins are bandits.”
And what are you thinking? You can’t possibly…even if she was interested, your soul is half scar now. Your god is dead. Have you forgotten? No. That, at least, he would never forget.
Rescue was bad. People who wanted you to be vulnerable and grateful tended to get very angry when you stopped being vulnerable and didn’t act grateful enough.
“You think she’s just going to skip town because somebody tried to kill the Archon in front of her? But she had nothing to do with it!” “I’m not suggesting that she did.” “Good,” said Grace, glaring at him. “Because if you had, you wouldn’t get any honey in your tea.” He had the decency to look abashed.
What if I don’t want to rescue you? What if I just want to talk to you because you make me laugh and you live in a jumble of vials and papers with a good-natured weasel and do interesting things?
“Competence is its own punishment.
“These are amazing.” She could not remember the last time that someone had made something for her. Had Phillip ever? She couldn’t think of any examples. I suppose technically Tab makes me anal secretions every month, but somehow it’s just not as touching.
He exhaled. For a moment, Grace thought he might get angry, but he took the question seriously. That was a thing that she was noticing, that he took all her questions seriously and considered them, and felt they were worthy of an answer. She wasn’t used to that.
I'm so emotional over this
“And…um…my shoes pinch.” The other three people all looked down at her feet. Grace reddened and fought the urge to shift the feet in question nervously. “I can fetch a chair,” said DuValier hastily. “I can carry you,” said Stephen. Marguerite’s shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. Oh sweet gods and goddesses, are they fighting over me?
The scent was warm and masculine and that would have been fine except that her mind was still stuck on the syrup and went to masculine syrup which would be the world’s worse euphemism for…well, there was really only one thing it could be a euphemism for.
It would be a terrible idea, he told himself. Sex in the woods is lousy. You get pine needles in places. And right now it’s all mud and mosquitoes. Terrible, horrible idea.
If we limited loving to just the sane, undamaged people, the next generation would have about three people in it and presumably humanity would die out shortly afterward.”
“Look, if you can’t laugh about the homicidal fits that make you a menace to society, what’s even the point?”
“He’s a paladin,” said Marguerite. “They only have a couple of emotions and the primary one is guilt. You’ll see.”
It’s as if the world is careening out of control, and we are all trying to pull on the reins or stop the wheels, but we are so small and the world is so heavy.
