The SilveredBook - 2012
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she sagged against the vine for a moment, and watched the bud closest to her hand swell and unfurl into a pale pink blossom. A few more, then a few more, until a spray of blossom bobbed up over the wall scenting the air with the promise of summer. First level Earth. Pretty, but useless and worse than that, unintentional. Given the way exhaustion ate away at her control, it was a good thing she hadn’t managed to learn anything more dangerous.
she leaned back against the tree and tried to become one with the night. It was a phrase from the last novel she’d brought home from the bookshop on Upper Cryss Road. The hero became one with the night when he hunted. Of course, in the novel, the hero hadn’t had to deal with a swarm of insects that tried to make a meal off any bit of exposed skin. Novels, she noted, wondering how much noise she’d make if she slapped at the back of her neck, were nothing much like real life.
she just wanted to talk to her sister. She wanted Lorela to make it right, like she always had when they were growing up. Lorela would sit on her bed, wrapped in a shawl, and explain that the world as they wanted it to be and the world as it was weren’t always the same place. Their mother’s drive for social advancement, their father always putting the bank first, that was how it was. A smart girl would figure out a way to work around it.
Even with limited exposure, Reiter could have said a number of things about the rest of the hangers-on, but he knew better than to open his mouth. The palace was just a better-dressed, better-fed version of a garrison town, and in a closed system, words always found their way to the wrong ears.
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