Weapons, When They Break And

You Can’t Just Keep Grabbing At Me Every Time You See Me. It’s Not A Substitute For Actually Talking.

The Witchlight Made His Skin Paler, His Eyes More Intently Blue. They Were The Color Of The Water In The North Atlantic, Where The Ice Drifted On Its Blue-black Surface Like The Snow Clinging To The Dark Glass Pane Of A Window.

The Sensation Of Falling Was The Worst Part.

Not Really, But After That I Think About How I Could Kill Him While He Slept If I Really Wanted To, And Then I Feel Better.

Don't Sulk. For Someone With All The Grace And Coordination Of A Pregnant Wildebeest, You Did Great.