“Ortus Nigenad did not die for nothing,” he said. As he spoke, his mouth looked strange. A hot whistle of pain ran down your temporal bone. Your body was numb to grief; perhaps you had felt it once, but you did not feel it anymore. “Ortus Nigenad died thinking it was the only gift he was capable of giving,” you said, “and I have wasted it—like—air.”
pink - gideon / griddlehark
yellow - important
blue - funny
