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I might not have magic, but resentment is a powerful thing.
“I hope you burn so bright that you scorch your Golden King down to ash.”
“You want to know what I think?” he asks quietly. “No.” “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
Me
“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.”
Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis. A shame that I lack the first, but the second? I’ve found that most of the people who have those are altogether disappointing.
Right now, they’re both drinking on a shared fur outside the circle, calling out the occasional piece of advice, like, “Stop getting hit.” Really helpful stuff.
“Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.” Keg laughs softly. “My ma used to say something like that,” he replies, looking over at me. “And you know what?” “What?” “She was a damn smart woman.”
“If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun.
“I must insist that you shut the fuck up,” Osrik drawls.
But like Lu said, it’s time to own my shit. It’s time to start choosing me.
