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“Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered. ‘Why do they always want a piece of me?’
Faze’s shoulders shook once in amusement. ‘For Guardians, you wolves
sure are wet behind the ears sometimes.’
‘Bite me.’
‘You’d like that.”
― Make-Believe
Faze’s shoulders shook once in amusement. ‘For Guardians, you wolves
sure are wet behind the ears sometimes.’
‘Bite me.’
‘You’d like that.”
― Make-Believe
“A measuring look crossed Javade’s eyes as he said nothing, letting the silence thicken deliberately, drawing out the awkward feeling of something not quite right, like the moment before a coiled snake strikes.
It was the kind of silence that made ancient beings feel watched by something older and more deadly than judgement.
‘I don’t like you.’ He said finally.”
― Make-Believe
It was the kind of silence that made ancient beings feel watched by something older and more deadly than judgement.
‘I don’t like you.’ He said finally.”
― Make-Believe
“Desperately, she sent an image of her holding a flower out to him, willing him to respond to it, but it lingered in her mind like a letter
waiting to be delivered, before it faded into the darkness.
He was gone.”
― Make-Believe
waiting to be delivered, before it faded into the darkness.
He was gone.”
― Make-Believe
“He narrowed his gaze and looked down at the ground, spotting a good sized rock, he picked it up and bounced the weight in his hand, looking back at the trees. Then, without ceremony, flung it into their shadows. The reaction was immediate.
Branches twisted, limbs snapped forward like claws, snatching at the stone with frantic hunger. The trees fought each other, scraping and screeching in dry, fibrous snarls. A savage ballet of predators without prey.
A curl of grim satisfaction touched his mouth.
'Nasty little fuckers, just like everything else in this place.'
And if the trees were this alive… the sprites inside them would be worse”
― Make-Believe
Branches twisted, limbs snapped forward like claws, snatching at the stone with frantic hunger. The trees fought each other, scraping and screeching in dry, fibrous snarls. A savage ballet of predators without prey.
A curl of grim satisfaction touched his mouth.
'Nasty little fuckers, just like everything else in this place.'
And if the trees were this alive… the sprites inside them would be worse”
― Make-Believe
“She won’t move.’ Midno snarled, her contempt raw in her hushed voice.
‘They are all waiting, and she chooses now to be rooted like an oak.’ She
unhooked her arm from Shyra and narrowed her gaze.
‘I’m scared.’ Shyra admitted, her breath hitching.
‘You are dishonouring us.’ Midno seethed. ‘Get a grip.”
― Make-Believe
‘They are all waiting, and she chooses now to be rooted like an oak.’ She
unhooked her arm from Shyra and narrowed her gaze.
‘I’m scared.’ Shyra admitted, her breath hitching.
‘You are dishonouring us.’ Midno seethed. ‘Get a grip.”
― Make-Believe
“Her thoughts were barely above a whisper in Phantacious’s mind, but each word laced through the bond with clarity.
'Their bodies are twisted, broken like dolls thrown against stone…There’s always laughter, distorted and wrong. Like someone else is watching and enjoying it, but I never see them.”
― Make-Believe
'Their bodies are twisted, broken like dolls thrown against stone…There’s always laughter, distorted and wrong. Like someone else is watching and enjoying it, but I never see them.”
― Make-Believe
