“the golden-haired goddess, still taunting him with rolled up eyes, walked backwards straight into a tree. This did not actually hurt her in any way, but as tended to be the way when she ran into things without noticing Fortuna emerged on the other side glaring at the tree as if she had been personally attacked. However grim the situation, watching the Lady of Long Odds begin yet another implacable blood feud with an inanimate object did wonders for his mood.
She’d once spent an entire month trying to talk him into tearing down a worn statue of Emperor Pere after passing through it mid-sentence. Tristan, naturally, had instead paid the matron of the house across the street to thoroughly clean it. Best nine radizes he’d ever spent.”
―
ErraticErrata,
Pale Lights
