Besides," Gwen added, fluffing the dress folds, "this thing took forever, so you're wearing it."
"Wait you made this?" Isobel asked, distracted.
"Altered it," she admitted. She shrugged. "Half off at the Nearly New Shop. By the way, you owe me twenty-five dollars.
You’re like seven feet tall, aren’t you?”
“I am not seven feet tall,” he snapped at her as if she’d really insulted him. “I’m six-eleven.” When she smirked in disbelief, he added, “And three-quarters.
My brother got shot three times two months ago, and he didn’t get the fever.”
“I bet your family gets shot at a lot, huh?
I'll keep it," she said. "Then, when you get back, after you and the dark one are done making out and planning a future filled with blond-haired, green-eyed, pigment-challeneged rug rats, I'll bring it over and you can add it to your scrapbook, right before you start cooking me dinner. I like vegetarian lasagna with cottage cheese instead of ricotta."
"Gwen?"
"And don't forget the mushrooms. Garlic bread, too, please. That is, as long as your vampire lover doesn't object."
"I want to say thank you," Isobel said. "For... everything."
"No," Gwen said. "Thank you for the delicious dinner. I can almost taste the baklava you and Darth Vader will be making for dessert. Something tells me you're gonna have to look that one up, though.
Tags: gwen nevermore isobel enshadowed
I know that look. What are you up to, Gwen?"
"What makes you think I'm up to something?"
The Valkyrie snorted. "You're breathing, aren't you?
You won't hurt me. I know you won't." Logan said.
"How can you be so sure?" I whispered.
"Because you're that Gypsy girl, and I'm the bad-boy Spartan. And I think it's time we were finally together, don't you?
You try moving things with nothing but willpower. It's about as easy as trying to lasso a bull with a licorice whip."
—from "Phantom's Veil
Tags: moving willpower gwen richelle richelle-goodrich phantom-s-veil
Sunlight’s warmth on my face awoke me in the morning. I didn’t remember falling asleep or how I came to be in my own bed. But I did recall nightmares. Awful nightmares featuring Gwen.
I turned my head to stare out an open window where the sun shone in full splendor, bleaching a clear sky enough to tell it was going to be a beautiful spring day. The air smelled of rain from overnight showers, mixed with a strong floral scent. A large lilac bush outside was responsible for the perfume. I breathed in the clean and fragrant air.
My eyelids fluttered, blinking at a stunning reflection of daylight off the glass. The blue beyond gave an exquisite glow to my room. All of it was an invitation to bask in a new day—an invitation I declined because none of that mattered to me. The world might as well come to a dark and ugly end. I saw no reason for beauty or life to go on so long as Gwen was lost.
Rolling over in bed, I felt the vice grips wrench at my heart again as I cried myself back to sleep.
from Phantom's Veil
Tags: loss mourning heartache gwen richelle richelle-goodrich greif
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