Rupert: "... At this rate, somebody is bound to upset the Warlock once too often, and we'll end up with a Court full of bemused looking toads.""He wouldn't dare use his magic here," said the Champion."Don't bet on it," said Rupert. "The High Warlock has all the practicality and self-preservation instincts of a depressed lemming.
Where moments before the bright morning sun flickered through the branches of the huge oak trees surrounding the property, every-thing in a ten yard radius immediately went pitch dark. The air, already a chilly fifty degrees, dropped past freezing in an instant, and the pressure changed to the point where he thought his eardrums might burst.
He closed his eyes for a moment and pulled at the fragments of the elements to light the torches hanging at the pillars on either side of him. The fire did little to warm the night, but Kaustab found its presence reassuring, the flickering blue flames danced and sparred with the shadows on the walls, a battle that the fire couldn’t win.
I lied to you,’ she said, hanging her head in shame, ‘more than once. In fact, I swore that my lies were truth. I can’t understand how it could have happened. It just came out of my mouth and by the time I realised what I'd done, it was too late. ‘It’s never too late to realise that you were mistaken, Sophiel.
Assottiglia Gundjr la moltitudine di nodi che veste la propria barba bruna, incolta, mentre Tarek avido ne sorseggia un altro dopo aver terso con la lingua quelle serpi bionde, che infuriano sopra la sua bocca; irrora ancora più ebbro il proprio corno Hengherest, ripassando con le sue falangi le figure istoriate al pari di superbe rune.
Why can’t I take you? Why is it so hard? You have the other half of my soul; with you I will be complete! So. Then. Why?” Crispin murmured clenching his fists. Oh, he pitied the fool who would be in his way once he returned to his domain. “Oh, what suffering will befall them in her place,” he smiled wickedly. ~Crispin~
In any event, whether a supernatural tale remains altogether fantastic or eventually modulates to the uncanny or the marvelous, the reader is faced with disconcerting ontological and perceptual problems.Indeed, the disorienting effect of the supernatural encounter in fiction seems to reflect some deeper disorientations in the culture at large.
They were in a long line, an endless line, and as they burst from the wood there was an instant, the smallest part of a heartbeat, when all Catelyn saw was the moonlight on the point of their lance, as if a thousand willowisps were coming down the ridge, wreathed in silver. Then she blinked, and they were only men, rushing down to kill or die.
Rain was coming down in sheets. I could hear it, on the concrete outside and on the old building above me. It creaked and swayed in the spring thunderstorm and the wind, timbers gently flexing, wise enough with age to give a little, rather than put up stubborn resistance until they broke. I could probably stand to learn something from that.
Do you really think you can win?''Yeah. Hell, Ortega is only the third or fourth most disturbing thing I've tangled with today.''But even if you do win, what does it change?''Me getting kiilled now. That way, I get to be killed later tonight instead.'- Susan Rodriguez & Harry Dresden, Death Masks, Jim Butche
Like wine, Provençal magic had its own distinctive terroir. It was rich and chaotic and romantic. It was a night-magic, confabulated out of moons and silver, wine and blood, knights and fairies, wind and rivers and forests. It concerned itself with good and evil but also with the vast intermediate realm in between, the realm of mischief.
Obwohl Ollowain die Burg schon hunderte Male gesehen hatte, berührte ihr Anblick ihn stets aufs Neue. Es war ein Gefühl, wie es sonst nur Musik in ihm erwecken konnte, das traurige Lied einer Flöte vielleicht oder melancholisches Harfenspiel. Ein Schmerz, der sich nicht in Worte fassen ließ, süß und durchdringend.
-Hej! - ryczał Yarpen Zigrin siedzący na koźle, wskazując na Yennefer. - Coś się tam czerni na szlaku! Ciekawe, co to? Wygląda jak kobyła!- Bez ochyby! - odwrzasnął Jaskier, odsuwając na tył głowy śliwkowy kapelusik. - To kobyła! Wierzchem na wałachu! Niebywałe!
It didn’t feel like the Fates were looking over me that day. When I glanced up, I couldn’t see destiny’s threads tangling in the sky like the silk of a giant spider’s web, woven by three pairs of gnarled, arthritic hands. All I saw was blue – the timeless blue of an empty sky, and the restless blue of a rough ocean.
Oh, and one thing. Please, please don’t depend on me too much. I mean that. I’m not going to be of much help. If your plots come to a head—if things go wrong at the last moment and you’re in danger or distress—don’t think of me. I will fail you. That I promise from my heart with absolute sincerity." - Lightsong
