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Death’s flower doesn’t belong in the outside world. It belongs in mine.
The brightness you’re used to casts the most vicious of shadows.”
All Arioch needed to know about the past was hidden in his present, because the one thing that history had proven to him in all his years was that it tended to repeat itself.
“All I know is that for all the prayer I see in this world, the poor become poorer, and conflict amongst us thickens each day.”
“Violence from beautiful creatures,” he said, flourishing his hand and retrieving a needle and thread from somewhere inside his shadows. Then he leaned over, just as he dropped the two things in her small hands, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “. . . is one of the things I like.”
“You hold power but choose to discard it, simply because it’s easier to play the victim.”
“You’re not really fully dressed without a weapon, at least not here.”
The blood of the covenant you chose over the water of the womb you were born from.
“Show me that helfyre tonight, little goddess. But more importantly, show them,” he said.
If she truly was his toy, his pet, his thing, she should have felt lesser. But when she looked up at him and those eyes burned, watching her and only her, she felt seen and fucking powerful instead.
He was like a wave that was threatening to pull her under, and it made her fear that she might never come up for air once he did.
But she supposed that those who were hand-fed safety would never need to learn to lick it from blades as she did.
“We’re all broken, Aheia. It’s what gives us strength. Only the broken can grow.”
“You showed strength for yourself when you needed it most.”
