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Just because you are family doesn’t guarantee you’ll be friends.

Cat Hellisen

All futures are tinted by the way in which you choose to view them.

Cat Hellisen

Dear Gris, if there's one thing I can't abide it's a bad poet.

Cat Hellisen

Stichwörter: poet cat-hellisen when-the-sea-is-rising-red

Here is the last truth of Saints: We will always choose the path which brings us the most power.

I spread my arms, and let the wind tip me.

Cat Hellisen

He’s twisting everything. He’s killing himself, killing innocents so that he can have his Gris-damned revenge on my brother.

“This isn’t about saving the Hobs,” I hiss at him. “And it never was.”

“No,” he says, and he grins. His eyes are frightened, giving the lie to his cheer. “But I did always love a good spectacle.

Cat Hellisen

Do you think I don’t care what happens to her?”

He shakes his head. “No. I just think that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a friend instead of an agenda.”

“Fuck off then,” Dash says. His anger is back, controlled, focused. “I hope you find her, but if you don’t, I won’t mourn either of you.”

“I never expected it.” Verrel’s mouth twists in an awful parody of a smile. “I hope your scheme works, Dash, and that you get whatever it is you want.

Cat Hellisen

You are not one of the heroes in your fucking street operas,” Dash shouts, his voice strangled. “You’re not.”

Verrel pauses and looks back. “And neither are you.”

“I never bloody claimed to be.

Cat Hellisen

Maybe I could have saved you once. Twice, even.” I want to reach up and brush back a lock of pale hair that has fallen over her face, but I hold my arms still. “In the end, we make our choices on our own. And no matter how stupid they are, we have to live—or die—with what we’ve done. Sometimes choosing our moment of death is the only freedom we have left.

Cat Hellisen