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“There was a definite feel about Adora Belle Dearheart that a lid was only barely holding down an entire womanful of anger.”
― Going Postal
― Going Postal
“You do not yield.
Aelin slammed her hand into the lid. Cairn paused. Aelin pounded her fist into the iron again. Again. You do not yield. Again. You do not yield. Again. Again. Until she was alive with it, until her blood was raining onto her face, washing away the tears, until every pound of her fist into the iron was a battle cry. You do not yield.
It rose in her, burning and roaring, and she gave herself wholly to it.
Over and over, she pounded against the lid. Over and over, that song of fire and darkness flared through her, out of her, into the world. You do not yield
And when she awoke chained on the altar, she beheld what she had done to the iron coffin. The top of the lid had been warped. A great hump now protruded, the metal stretched thin. As if it had come so very close to breaking entirely.”
― Kingdom of Ash
Aelin slammed her hand into the lid. Cairn paused. Aelin pounded her fist into the iron again. Again. You do not yield. Again. You do not yield. Again. Again. Until she was alive with it, until her blood was raining onto her face, washing away the tears, until every pound of her fist into the iron was a battle cry. You do not yield.
It rose in her, burning and roaring, and she gave herself wholly to it.
Over and over, she pounded against the lid. Over and over, that song of fire and darkness flared through her, out of her, into the world. You do not yield
And when she awoke chained on the altar, she beheld what she had done to the iron coffin. The top of the lid had been warped. A great hump now protruded, the metal stretched thin. As if it had come so very close to breaking entirely.”
― Kingdom of Ash
“Oh, my warrior queen,” Astaroth said softly. “Has anyone ever worshipped you the way you deserve?”
―
―
“Explosives.
Opioids.
Nuclear weapons.
None of them could hold a candle to hope, the most dangerous commodity in the world.”
― By Any Other Name
Opioids.
Nuclear weapons.
None of them could hold a candle to hope, the most dangerous commodity in the world.”
― By Any Other Name
“The clacks?” said Moist. “I daresay the clacks is wonderful if you
wish to know the prawn market figures from Genua. But can you write
S.W.A.L.K. on a clacks? Can you seal it with a loving kiss? Can you cry
tears onto a clacks, can you smell it, can you enclose a pressed flower? A
letter is more than just a message. And a clacks is so expensive in any case
that the average man in the street can just about afford it in a time of crisis:
GRANDADS DEAD FUNERAL TUES. A day’s wages to send a message as warm
and human as a thrown knife? But a letter is real.”
― Going Postal
wish to know the prawn market figures from Genua. But can you write
S.W.A.L.K. on a clacks? Can you seal it with a loving kiss? Can you cry
tears onto a clacks, can you smell it, can you enclose a pressed flower? A
letter is more than just a message. And a clacks is so expensive in any case
that the average man in the street can just about afford it in a time of crisis:
GRANDADS DEAD FUNERAL TUES. A day’s wages to send a message as warm
and human as a thrown knife? But a letter is real.”
― Going Postal
Cheyenne’s 2025 Year in Books
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