Polly

“If there was a great creator who had fashioned us in his own image, why, then, was more life not made in the same way, by merely breathing a word over a handful of dust? Instead, reproduction and love became a messy process, and messy processes meant there were many places where it could fail.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, All the Crooked Saints

“Something strange and chemical was happening to the Gray Man. Once, he’d been stabbed with a screwdriver — Phillips head, bright blue handle — and falling in love with Maura Sargent was exactly the same.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, The Dream Thieves

“Go on," Kell told him without taking his eyes from Lila. " Get some rest."

Hastra shifted. "I can't, sir," he said. "I'm to escort Miss Bard--"

"I'll take that charge," cut in Kell. Hastra bit his lip and retreated several steps.

Lila let her forehead come to rest against his, her face so close the features blurred. And yet, that fractured eye shone with frightening clarity.

"You never told me," he whispered.

"You never noticed," she answered. And then, "Alucard did."

The blow landed, and Kell started to pull away when Lila's eyelids fluttered and she swayed dangerously.

He braced her. "Come on," he said gently. "I have a room upstairs. Why don't we--"

A sleepy flicker of amusement. "Trying to get me into bed?"

Kell mustered a smile. "It's only fair. I've spent enough time in yours."

"If I remember correctly," she said, her voice dreamy with fatigue, "you were on top of the bed the entire time."

"And tied to it," observed Kell.

Her words were soft at the edges. "Those were the days..." she said, right before she fell forward. It happened so fast Kell could do nothing but throw his arms around her.

"Lila?" he asked, first gently, and then more urgently. "Lila?"

She murmured against his front, something about sharp knives and soft corners, but didn't rouse, and Kell shot a glance at Hastra, who was still standing there, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"What have you done?" demanded Kell.

"It was just a tonic, sir," he fumbled, "something for sleep."

"You drugged her?"

"It was Tieren's order," said Hastra, chastised. "He said she was mad and stubborn and no use to us dead." Hastra lowered his voice when he said this, mimicking Tieren's tone with startling accuracy.

"And what do you plan to do when she wakes back up?"

Hastra shrank back. "Apologize?"

Kell made an exasperated sound as Lila nuzzled-- actually nuzzled-- his shoulder.

"I suggest," he snapped at the young man, "you think of something better. Like an escape route."

Hastra paled, and Kell swept Lila up into his arms, amazed at her lightness... Kell swept through the halls until he reached his room and lowered Lila onto the couch.

Hastra handed him a blanket. "Shouldn't you take off her knives?"

"There's not enough tonic in the world to risk it," said Kell.”
― V.E. Schwab, A Conjuring of Light

“We don't choose what we are, but we choose what we do.”
― V.E. Schwab, A Conjuring of Light