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We steal human words with gleeful abandon, but we don’t like to use their names for things when we have any other choice in the matter. We’re sort of like the French that way.
course it was wrought iron. The stuff isn’t even attractive—it’s like the bold type equivalent of a chain-link fence, all bulky and aggressive and unnecessarily prone to rust—but something deep in humanity’s genetic makeup remembers that the fae are out there, roaming the night, and that sometimes when we get bored, whole villages can disappear. So they deny we ever existed out loud, and they quietly ornament their homes and gardens with as much iron as they can yank out of the hills. They’re still working at keeping us out.
fifteen miles over the speed limit, for his current tastes. “Sacrificing yourself isn’t the only answer to every problem you come across. It would be nice for the rest of us if you realized that someday. I don’t want to have to bury you.”
How does anyone function without an alchemist on call? I guess they have to make much more of an effort not to get poisoned, which seems like a lot of work.
My anger isn’t because you did it. It’s because you did it without explaining to me what you were doing, or why, or how you hoped to have it undone. I know you’re accustomed to leaping first and looking during the fall, but I need you to tell me when you’re going to jump. I need you to give me the opportunity to jump with you.”
