It was beautiful, this pre-industrial world, with its white snows and ever-visible rainbows and the dazzling night sky. But it was also dreadful, seething with ignorance and man-made horrors.
Even though she wasn’t an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
There were faces more beautiful, and figures more perfect--he saw them all the time. But none had whatever it was that made him ache for her.
Open Mike Night at Rush Valley's one and only coffee house attracts a great many of the town's most ridiculous people.
She paced the wide, marble floor, visited each of the soaring windows, feeling every supple sinew beneath her skin move with the perfection of the young.
As it got later, Al could hear the night in the strange world deepen. Nights of terror, here, a country full of dead people.
It made him feel useful, and needed, even if the truth was his help wasn't entirely necessary. It made him feel like someone would miss him when he was gone.
People paid a lot of money to see things like this, she imagined.
He didn't know exactly what he found so captivating, seeing Edward like this, but he couldn't stop looking.
They were Scientists; this was Nature. They were Modern; God is dead.