Ira

“Tamquam,’ said Adam.
'Wait,’ said Ronan.
'Tamquam,’ he said again, gently.
'Alter idem,’ Ronan said, and found himself alone.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Call Down the Hawk

“Neither Ronan nor Adam had been trained in the difficult and nuanced art of having a future. They had only ever learned the art of surviving the past.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Greywaren

“He’d dreamt that watch for Adam when he left for Harvard. It was the closest he could come to a love letter; the language of affection had never felt right to Ronan. Clumsy. Overblown. False. Ronan speaking the language of another country, vocabulary learned from watching films on YouTube. But the watch—the watch told the time for whatever time zone Ronan was in, and it said exactly what Ronan meant to say.
Think of where I am, it said. Think of me.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Greywaren

“ Tamquam, said Ronan, and Adam said, Alter idem.
Cicero had written the phrase about Atticus, his dearest friend. Qui est tamquam alter idem. Like a second self.
Ronan and Adam couldn’t hug, because they had no real arms, but it didn’t matter. Their energy darted and mingled and circled, the brilliant bright of the sweetmetals and the absolute dark of the Lace. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to. Audible words were redundant when their thoughts were tangled together as one. Without any clumsiness of language, they shared their euphoria and their lurking fears. They rehashed what they had done to each other and apologized. They showed everything they had done and that had been done to them in the time since they’d last seen each other—the good and the bad, the horrid and the wonderful. Everything had felt so murky for so long, but when they were like this, all that was left was clarity. Again and again they spiraled around and through one another, not Ronan-and-Adam but rather one entity that held both of them. They were happy and sad, angry and forgiven, they were wanted, they were wanted, they were wanted.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Greywaren