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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Nature
Wells
Come
Tempered
Well
Blade
Children
Blades
Strongest
Sorry
Child

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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
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There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.
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Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. Who are you? I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. Vengeance, I say softly.
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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.
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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
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He barks out a laugh. My little rebel.
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