Ashlinn Järnheim személy
“I admit, the plan has suffered a few… setbacks.”
“You always had a talent for understatement, Corvere.” Ashlinn stabbed another apple from the bowl, began peeling it with deft strokes of her blade. “Living in the keep that belonged to your father before he was hanged for treason. Under ownership of the wife of the justicus you murdered. In a stable that can only be a half-year old at most, and only has one laurel to its name. How’s that faring?”
“I survived the Winnowing,” Mia shrugged.
Ash slipped a sliver of apple between her lips. “I had noticed you weren’t dead.”
The more I live it, the more I realize 'deserve' has nothing to do with this life. Blessings and curses fall on the wicked and the just alike. Fair is a fairy tale. Nothing's claimed by those who don't want it, and nothing's kept by those who won't fight for it. So let's fight. Fuck the gods. Fuck it all. Let's take the world by the throat and make it give us what we want.