[ It startles him to know her burning for so simple a thing, a child's whim: stories to invite sleep, stories for lessoning, stories for keepsakes, stories for nostalgia. Words in the wind, gossip romanticised as fiction.
They all yearn for a better world, where heroes rise, bones unyielding, where villains wear the likeness of scales and claws and monsters — where ambiguity and corruption are alien and plainly recognised, spat in the face. ]
Tales for children.
[ He concedes slowly, in the way every father's learned, Just one more and these eyes will close. Sons are bred to lie, shamelessly.
And this girl — ]
You read enough to know poems.
[ ...this girl is not so far removed from the habit. ]
no subject
They all yearn for a better world, where heroes rise, bones unyielding, where villains wear the likeness of scales and claws and monsters — where ambiguity and corruption are alien and plainly recognised, spat in the face. ]
Tales for children.
[ He concedes slowly, in the way every father's learned, Just one more and these eyes will close. Sons are bred to lie, shamelessly.
And this girl — ]
You read enough to know poems.
[ ...this girl is not so far removed from the habit. ]