Vivi Valo

“But what seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else.”
― Haruki Murakami, After Dark

“An old man sat down beside her. "Well, aren't you a pretty little peach?" His breath smelled near as foul as the dead men in the cages, and his little pig eyes were crawling up and down her. "Does my sweet peach have a name?"
For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . ."
"She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be."
The man turned, spoiling for a quarrel, but when he saw Gendry's size he thought better of it. "You sister, is she? What kind of brother are you? I'd never bring no sister of mine to the Peach, that I wouldn't." He got up from the bench and moved off muttering, in search of a new friend.
"Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet, "You're not my brother."
"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."
Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I mean it."
"Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."
"But . . ."
"I said, go away. M'lady."
Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.”
― George R. R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow," he said.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl

“Look...at...me..." he whispered. The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows