the-ruins

8

CASSIAN //
The true depths of strength, of resilience, of honor and loyalty.

I didn’t think the others gave him enough credit—for noticing the shift in someone’s emotional current. To command legions, I supposed, he needed to be able to read that sort of thing, judge when his soldiers or enemies were strong or breaking or broken.

“I’m a warrior. I’ve walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her, to have that power. But not afraid of her.” He considered, and added after a heartbeat, “Nothing about Nesta could frighten me.”

Cassian had been born for this—these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation. I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance. I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, 
“For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.”

Cassian’s own voice broke as he said, “I never got to repay your mother—for her kindness. Let me do it this way. Let me buy you time.”

Rhysand: Feyre…
Feyre: What?
Rhysand: Is Tarquin better than me? Like, are you into the whole sea thing?
Feyre: *Groans* Rhys, I married YOU not Tarquin.
Rhysand: Are you sure you don’t like him better though? because I can be summery.
Feyre: ….
Rhysand: i can totally do the beach look.
Feyre: ….
Feyre: *Groans again
She’s mine. And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then lose your head. And once Feyre is done killing you, then I’ll grind your bones to dust.
—  Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

tfw you suddenly have a daughter and she comes home

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