Ally

“No, Liam,' Xaden chokes out as he crouches in front of us, the muscles in his face working to control his expression, but there's no hiding the despair that pushes at our mental connection.

'Deigh,' Liam pleads in a strangled whisper, turning his head toward Xaden.

'I know, brother,' Xaden's jaw flexes and our gazes lock above Liam as tears overflow my eyes. 'I know.' He leans forward and lifts Liam into his arms, then stands, carrying him. 'I'll take you.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women and children. There will be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fury. "I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatically, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. "This is what they do and we must fight back!"

"President Snow says he's sending a message. Well I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" One of the cameras follows where I point to the planes burning on the roof of a warehouse across from us. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, determined he will not miss a word of it, "And if we burn, you burn with us!”
― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

“A dragon without its rider is a tragedy.
A rider without their dragon is dead.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“Violet Sorrengail,' she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?'

Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing.

'Why would you say that?' I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket.

'Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?' She taps where there's only one star on her uniform.

Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly.

'It could be any third-year's.' I shrug.

'With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?' She cocks an eyebrow.

'That does limit it a bit,' I agree.

'And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?' she teases.

'Fine, it's his.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing