I can’t think of anything to do in response. What am I supposed to say? I’m sorry? I have never understood why people say they’re sorry after learning of somebody’s loss. I know Astian’s loss is not my fault, and I don’t want to lower him with pity. He’s too strong for pity. He doesn’t exhibit any primary emotions as he talks—he isn’t sad or angry. There’s something so much deeper going on within his eyes. Like he’s still a little boy, the eleven year old who just learned that a man he personally knew walked into his house and murdered his parents. Directionless and helpless and confused. I know that confusion—maybe not as intimately as Astian does, but I can recognize it. He doesn’t understand why his parents are no longer in his life. Even after five years, he doesn’t understand.
Adhesions, 83k words.
My sister was getting on my back about reading young adult fiction, because it has “no educational value” or something.
And my dad said it’s just who I am.
It’s what I am.
It’s what I do.
That was unexpected. :]
No, I don’t care if electronics end up taking the place of books, ridding the world of the new-book smell and paper pages.
As long as all that happens after I’m dead.
I have too many glorious hobbies, too many pictures to draw and paint, too many books to read and write, and no time or desire to sleep.
There are no natural talents on Prime; there are only superhuman abilities. Unfortunately for their world, there is no ability that can reverse the effects of their steadily dying sun.
But there may still be hope.
In the midst of a single night full of pain and confusion, Tess is taken from her poverty-stricken home, away from her family. She has only one person to rely on: a snide and often irritating foreshadower who claims royalty—having the scars of his severed wings to prove it—and foresees his inevitable love for Tess. With him, Tess learns the terrifying realities of death, love, and her apparent importance to a world on the brink of fatality.