Alas. I am not an option.
All right," sighed Madrigal. "To the baths, then. To make ourselves shiningly clean." Like vegetable, she thought, before they go in the stew.
...I said I was sorry.” “Be sorry, then. Just be sorry somewhere else.
Perhaps Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked.
And just so you know, the invaders are always the bad guys. Always.
It was interesting the way a small hate could grow inside a big hate and take it over.