Brottstycke 7

“Oh, I can’t die now”, Iwana said dismissingly while putting her hands on her hips with an outrageously defiant air about her. The elder klicked her tongue like old ladies do while squeezing the young woman’s shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring way.
“My dear, everyone is afraid of dying, there is nothing to be ashamed of”, the old woman told her, making Amroth shake his head in defeat. The old lady clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with here. Iwana herself frowned at these words, and for a moment she didn’t quite seem to understand them. A few heartbeats of silence ensued before she started shaking her head wildly, tossing her hair from side to side.
“No, no, no”, she repeated in synch with her hairtossing, before she stilled and explained herself. ”I didn’t say that I’m afraid of dying, I didn’t say that I don’t want to die. I just can’t die now, I’ve got a prophecy to fulfill, you see!”

Brottstycke 6

(…)
Trollkarlarnas magi handlade lite mer om en komplicerad kombination av undanledande manövrar (”titta där!), flinka förflyttande fingerarbeten (för att få korten att byta plats) och dramatiska ljud när allas uppmärksamhet åter befann sig på trollkarlen i fråga (”tadaa!” var Laias personliga favorit. Den var kort, koncis och en ofelbar klassiker.). Saha’jahnernas magi däremot handlade mer om att genomsyra hela sina liv med en ständig förnekan till fysikens alla lagar. Det, och en hälsosam dos av tur.

Brottstycke 5

”Men du måste medge att när min syster frågade dig huruvida dina intentioner med mig var hedersvärda, så var kanske ‘inte precis’ inte riktigt det bästa valet av ord.”

Brottstycke 4

”I wasn’t created for the world. It was this world that was created for me”, Iwana spat out with a wicked grin and all the while displaying the very essense of being covetous. It hadn’t escaped him that her whole demeanor screamed of a person balancing on the very brink of either insanity or pure genius.

Brottstycke 3

Iwana formligen studsade upp och ned på läktaren utav upphetsning, hennes tidigare ilska lika bortglömd som hennes eskapader under gårdagens fylla. ”Såg du hur han behandlade sin motståndare? Det var så-”
”Grymt? Kallblodigt? Smaklöst?” Morine såg på henne med ett ögonbryn höjt i stilla undran och munnen formad i ett smalt streck av avsmak. Iwana slutade kränga omkring där hon satt och såg med ens ut att vara en aning illa berörd till slut.
”Uh, jag tänkte säga roligt, men nu fick du mig att känna mig dålig”, muttrade hon bittert, vilket avslöjade att hennes känslor inte hade något med den brutala slakt som pågick nere på arenan att göra, utan snarare handlade om den nyvunna insikten att vissa människors avsaknad av humor inte visste några gränser.

Brottstycke 2

”You do realize that you’ve been constantly fiddling with those blasted knives, even through the parts of the speech you were actually supposed to pay attention to”, Morine kindly pointed out to her friend with a voice laced with irritation.
”Yeah, it kept me from wringing that scrawny biddy’s neck”, Iwana explained happily, all the while keeping up with the constant flipping and tossing of her small knives.
”Very diplomatic of you to refrain”, her friend replied dryly while looking anything but impressed.
”Yeah, I thought so too”, the knife-flipping woman said with a proud grin, obviously not too familiar with the concept of sarcasm.

Brottstycke 1

Hon dolde ett leende bakom sin hand. Hon gjorde ofta det, gömde sina leenden bakom handen på det där sättet. Ibland skrattade hon bakom den, ibland svor hon bakom den…Ibland grät hon bakom den också.

My heart thinks faster than my mind

She fiddled with the hem of her summer dress, the one with the stripes and the flowers and the lovely ribbons decorating her delicate frame, swaying in the wind and mingling with her hair. Her gaze didn’t meet his for a while, as she studied the ground before her, or perhaps the tips of her toes that were buried into the grass that was still green even though summer was fading away around them as they spoke. He furrowed his brow for a moment, but then his sun kissed face opened up into a sunny smile and he softly took one of her fiddling hands, making her catch her breath at the warm touch.

”I love you”, he said then, as if he had never spoken the words before, which he had of course. But he always uttered them like that, like they were new for him. Like he always gave them the deepest though before he let them out. She loved that about him and his words filled her chest with enough courage to meet his gaze. Finally, her lips parted and she said:

”Forgive me, for… For my heart always thinks faster than my mind.”

He blinked at her with wide eyes, surprised at first, but then his eyes turned into crescents as he smiled again.

”I know”, he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her forehead with smiling lips. ”It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

Option

“Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option

- Unknown, but found here

Och snart vet jag inte vart jag ska ta vägen

Orädd men rädd
Jag tittar över axeln en gång för mycket

En dag vet jag att du kommer stå där
Och jag kommer inte veta vad jag ska säga.

Kanske kan jag fråga
Hur det kommer sig
Att även fast det gått så lång tid
Så kan tanken av dig fortfarande göra mig tårögd
Fortfarande ge mig magknip och ångest och skuldkänslor och en hopplöst hjälplös fallande känsla

Varför är du fortfarande den
Som berör mig som mest?

Jag ser mig om, tittar över axeln
Orädd, men ändå så rädd, så rädd

Varför?