"You don’t understand, Masha. You have never understood. You are my treasure, my pale gold, the heart of my heart. You lie at the bottom of my being and gnaw upon my roots. But you are not one of us. No matter how like us you become. You were not with us when the world was so young, so easily misled. When there was only one star in the sky. You cannot know what we know. You are not built as we are built. You’ve learned so much, you have, and I am so proud of you. But you…” Koschei laid his hand on the black silk of her sternum. “You are still made of meat, gristle, and bone.” -Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless
How long will I love you? As long as stars are above you and longer if I can.
a mix for lazy daydreams of the ocean, the double-edged rise of golden boys whose bodies are sold to the highest bidders, forbidden love that tastes like the salty sea, and the claiming of one’s place in the rebellion.
"I am a merman; a terrifyingly beautiful creature basking on the ocean’s waves who will eat your flesh and bones at the bottom of the sea."
Kaleb straightened and tilted his head, the corner of his mouth ticking ever so slightly. Facial expressions were more freely given to her, but still it was something he had to fight to overcome. “Would you like to climb trees?” He posed the question with an air of innocence, one eyebrow inclining.
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it’s because I must look stunning. Then I notice something is rising up around me. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl in the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. Somehow I’m not afraid to stop because my flesh doesn’t seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I’m gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames. Then all at once, the fire is gone. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I’m naked and why Cinna has arranged to burn away my wedding dress. But I’m not naked. I’m in a dress of the exact same design of my wedding dress, only it’s the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that’s when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.
Where are you, Lord? Tell me: Is it your will that I am here with these heathens? How does it serve you? I don’t understand. And for the first time in my life I am angry with you. You allow my brothers to be slaughtered and sold. Is this really your will? For the first time…I feel lonely. Where are you, Lord? Where are you? And why don’t you answer me?
There was so little left to be done after he arrived at the preparation for the tea, that he was almost sorry the obligation of eating and drinking came so soon to prevent his watching Margaret. She handed him his cup of tea with the proud air of an unwilling slave; but her eye caught the moment when he was ready for another cup; and he almost longed to ask her to do for him what he saw her compelled to do for her father, who took her little finger and thumb in his masculine hand, and made them serve as sugar-tongs.