I carry the colours of lost Hours with me like a coal of rosy fire.
I have taken the seeds of the Crowned Growth into me.
Any student of Histories knows: as within, so without. One way or another.
There's a lot of the world, and it's not all mapped yet.
The Corrivality is the world's engine.
The opposite of battle is death.
The Wolf and all the wandering flames will feast.
Somehow I can't stop thinking about it...
I have one very specific recommendation for the contract...'
I've been poor, I've been rich, and I've learnt that I'd rather be rich.
NO RECKONERS, NO EXCEPTIONS.
I dedicated myself to finding all the answers.
I will be honoured by my peers. And then, one day, I'll die.
I was consumed, but another I rose higher
I may give him his reward.
We find, we think, a way.
Our flesh may tire. We may grow old. But I will not regret.
She wants very much to be found.
I wrestled the Forge to victory. I will not grow old.
We wrestled the Forge to victory. We will not grow old.
I was lost to another I's glory
In the Fifth History alone, I will rise like a wave and hood myself to mark what I have become.
This is when I would have died, but my wounds were doors.
I couldn't risk them picking up the trail again.
Our heartbeats quicken together.
We dream the same pink dreams.
He is the melody of love, and I hear him now.
That is enough.
Life is not easy with her.
Our house is home to fluttering things.
We have joined the storm-chorus of the Thunderskin. Never shall we cease.
I have joined the storm-chorus of the Thunderskin. Never shall I cease.
I have become something winged, dark and undying; something that no longer exists.
We have become something winged, dark and undying; something that no longer exists.
The Meniscate favoured us.
The Meniscate favoured me.
I led a believer to the Wood of the Moth.
I dedicated myself to chaos, and the unexpected Hours.
I forged a believer into a true instrument of Knock.
I dedicated myself to the Hours which open doors.
I sharpened a believer to their deadliest Edge.
I dedicated myself to the Hours of struggle and conquest.
I shaped a mighty believer from the fires of the Forge.
I pledged a believer to the Feast of the Grail.
I dedicated myself to the mysteries of birth, blood and appetite.
I cast a believer onto the Lantern's path.
I dedicated myself to the understanding of the Light that leaks from a fiercer place.
I drew a believer to the endless Dance of the Heart.
.....................
I dedicated myself to the silence that comes and the cold that ends.
I am a successful trophy.
He thanks me afterwards.
One by one we douse the flames.
We are happy, I think.
I would not say it ended badly.
We seem a suited pair.
I am drunk with her.
We gorged on the fruits of the sticky Grail. We will not grow old.
I gorged on the fruits of the sticky Grail. I will not grow old.
The Sun has his course, and so do I.
I was devoured, but another I rose higher
I no longer have any idea what is real, and what is not.
My trial was contentious. But thanks to the Inspector, here I am.
I worked. I slaved. I lived a sort of life.
I am well repaid.
Our home is littered with his notes.
It is hard to tell, with him, whether to laugh or cry.
She ensures I have sweet dreams.
We walked behind the Watchman. We will not grow old.
Now we are scholars of the heart.
It has pleased the Peacock Door to yield to my entry.
I walked behind the Watchman. I will not grow old.
I conjured a creature from beyond the skin of the world.
I have made the necessary sacrifice to enter the Mansus through the Spider Door.
I have answered the riddle of the Stag Door, and am counted among the Know.
Speech may not pass the White Door, but I may.
The Wood grows around the walls of the Mansus. As any student of Histories knows, the Mansus has no walls.
I dedicated myself to the study of the five Histories, and their thousand demi-real branches.
I don't think it really qualifies as a cadaver, so much as a souvenir.
I dedicated myself to the drumbeat which can never end.
I honoured my agreement, but I did not have a friend.
I dedicated myself to the fire that changes and remakes.
Despair, the wolf that devours thought, devoured me.
My body died. Perhaps my spirit entered the Mansus.
