Its Like He Knows He's

The Waystone Was His, Just As The Third Silence Was His. This Was Appropriate, As It Was The Greatest Silence Of The Three, Wrapping The Others Inside Itself. It Was Deep And Wide As Autumn’s Ending. It Was Heavy As A Great River-smooth Stone. It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

I'm A Firm Supporter Of The Word Polyamory. But That One Is Close To My Heart.

I Was Just Wondering Why You're Here.

He Hesitated, Then Lifted His Head And Sniffed. “have You Been Drinking?” The Question Was More Curious Than Accusatory. “no,” Bast Said. The Innkeeper Raised An Eyebrow. “i’ve Been Tasting,” Bast Said, Emphasizing The Word. “tasting Comes Before Drinking.

Language Is Inexorably Tied To Power And Understanding. And Power And Understanding Are The Roots Of Magic. Just The Act Of Writing Something Down Is A Magical Act.