I frowned at the eye in my palm. "What, literally shout at the tattoo?"
"You could try rubbing it on certain body areas and I might come faster.

I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire - but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn't bother to look, but only to fear it... Then I didn't particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place - looking for you all.

I needed not to be dead when I agreed.”
“You needed not to be alone.

My mate. Death incarnate. Night triumphant.

But I forgot to tell him,” I said quietly, opening the door, “that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.”
“Oh?”
I shrugged. “He was the one who let me out.”.

To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys."
Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered.