Brandy > Recent Status Updates

…the woman who emerged was distinctly changed from the girl who entered.
Her smiles were shorter. Her laughs were louder. She became distracted at times, and would stare at nothing with a look of shattered sorrow that passed like a cloud the moment someone spoke her name.
She loved less quickly, but more fiercely, and made certain that those she cared for knew it well.
Sometimes she wept when it snowed.

Life was funny, and fickle, and often cruel. Sometimes the unworthy went on living while those who deserved better were lost.

Or not lost, he considered, since they lingered on in the hearts of those who loved them, who love them still, their memory nurtured like a sprig of green in an otherwise desolate soul. Which was, he supposed, a kind of immortality, after all.

“What are you afraid of? You might have been in a pack with one of them once, but those days are finished. In truth, they probably never were real, except perhaps in your mind. They are not capable of loyalty. You might have been in a pack, but your master never was.”

God may forgive them for this
but if so
I will kill Him, too.

Death would come for her one day. She would be remembered for a time. Then she would be forgotten. The only that really mattered were the tracks she left in the snow.

This is the most excited I’ve been for a book in ages!!!!!

…the shadows no longer listened. Sandy found that he was crying. He held up his hands in front of him, as if he could somehow restrain the charge to come, repress the violence that he could feel building and gathering all around him. “They’re not your fucking enemy!” he screamed, at the top of his lungs. “We’re your children, you assholes, we’re only your goddamned children!”

“You can’t kill what this city has become, what it represents.”
“And what’s that?”
“Hope,” the man replied, unflinching. “Peace. Prosperity. Progress. You think your vision for this city-this vision of might and conquest-is born of loyalty to Saphrona. Love, even. But it’s not. It’s born from fear, from a desperate need to reforge the world into a vision that you don’t feel threatened by-“

“But ache not for the love of ghosts, sister. The dead fill no hope but the grave.”

“…would it work?” she whispered.
“I don’t care,” I replied.

“I am content.” 😭😭😭😭

“There are other types of neglect and deprivation. To deny what unfolds inside someone, to forbid the magic that comes unbidden, to impose ignorance in a way that invites danger, to say to a child, ‘You must not be what you are.’ That is wrong.”

The skies of this world were always meant to have dragons. When they are not there, humans miss them. Some never think of them, of course. But some children, from the time they are small, they look up at a blue summer sky and watch for something that never comes. Because they know. Something that was supposed to there faded and vanished.

…it’s strange, isn’t it, how you don’t know how big a part of you someone is until they’re threatened? And then you think that you can’t possibly go on if something happens to them, but the most frightening part is that, actually, you will go on, you’ll have to go on, with them or without them. There’s no telling what you’ll become.

Hurts don’t stop, but they fade into shadows of what they were. That’s sad. That something so vital, something that bit you so deep, can be eroded by time into a story that almost seems like it happened to someone else. Any hurt. That years have taken away her meaning. It lessens us.

It unsettled her how the same words could mean such different things to different people. How it might be possible for two sets of eyes to witness the same events and later give accounts at odds with each other.

“Another friend was gone, and home was only a word.”

Damn, don’t mind me while I sit here and sob at 2am.