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Когда догоняешься на инглише, хоть знать его не знаешь. И клянешься пред честным народом - я прочту свежачок от Робин, КАК ТОЛЬКО ОН ПОСТУПИТ В ПРОДАЖУ
ПОТОМУ ЧТО НЕЛЬЗЯ ТАК ЖИТЬ БОЛЕЕ
And I set no limits on that love.
"It's too much," I said brokenly. "No one can give that much. No one."
***
He smiled at me. “No, Beloved. Of course I was never with Molly.” His fingertip tapped the table, once, twice, thrice. He smiled gently. Then he said, “I was with you.”
Лучшие друзья, ребят. Они такие.
У вас с братюней и дети общие, потому что вы!лучшие!друзья!
Ауффф
***
The Fool was beside me and alive, despite his idiocy. My heart lifted in one wolfish instant of unadulterated satisfaction in the present moment.
In the next, shame scourged me. How did I deserve even an instant of peace when my Bee was forever lost? When I was on a mission to a land I’d never seen to kill as many Servants as I could find? When a young woman twitched and tattered away with the Skill-sickness in the beautiful tent before me?
Он почти порадовался, но вовремя все осознал, уффф
***
Интересно, а Робин уважает бренди так же, как ее персы? Они там вечно нпливаются дорогим алкоголем по самые брови.
Мн так нравится, как звучит имя Янтарь на английском, очень красиво, имхо.
***
The Skill told me that Amber had been pushed up under my arm. “Fitz,” the Fool said by my ear. “Fitz, where are you? I can’t feel you. Fitz, put up your walls! Please, Fitz. Beloved.”
The touch of fingers on my wrist burned. Burned exquisitely, pain and ecstasy inseparable.
BELOVED!
<=>
The Fool embraced me, his head bowed my chest. One of his arms was around my neck, holding on to me. I clutched an empty glove in one hand. Slowly and dully, I lifted that hand to look at the glove. The Fool’s hand, his fingers gleaming silver, clutched my wrist, burning my identity into me. The bond was shockingly and completely renewed.
Классная дружба, прям как у настоящих мужиков. БРАТАНЫ ЕПТА
@настроение:
ахаха,ахаха, мы везем с собой кота. упоролась
@темы:
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