Commentaires de livres faits par camiR
Extraits de livres par camiR
Commentaires de livres appréciés par camiR
Extraits de livres appréciés par camiR
Fighting doesn't feel good anymore. It feels like braking something because you don't know how to fix it.
You'd never think you could crave someone cold, that you'd find yourself always moving closer to them because of it. But Baz is the kind of cold I want to cover.
(His hands are feather light on my back. Feather light and chilled through.)
I want to warm him by hand. By heat, by cheek, by stomach
I bring my wings up around us and press him into the truck bed, pressing myself into every grey inch.
When was the last time...
No. Don't think about the last time.
Don't think it might be now.
Don't think.
I'm wet from the river spirit. My nose is the same tempera bure as Baz's chin.
I knock my face into his. I hang over him. This is the point, the proximity, where I usually pull away. "Can I ?" I say, pressing in. I'm not sure he'll hear me, over everything.
It's all perfectly fine.
I mean, I'm probably being recruited into a cult.
And seduced by its charismatic leader.
And I am stranded at their compound...
But everything seems mostly fine?
He keeps reaching over to squeeze my shoulder or my arm And it isn't a question. There's no hesitation. He's just touching me because he's happy. Because he's high. And because I was there, I'm part of it, what's making him happy.
He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes, shaking me gently back and forth. When I look over, he's laughing.
They're going to stone us when we get home. They're going to strike our names from the Book.
But not until we get home.
If we get home.
America is endless. We may never run out of roads.
I can't think of anything else Baz is terrible at. He's some one else here, too.
"You breaketh, you buyeth!" a man shouts at us.
We ignore him, banging our swords and shuffling out into the road. I'm going easy on Baz. Just batting him back. He's try ing to look fierce, but he keeps laughing.
He breaks through my cover just once to tap my leg. "You're losing it, Snow! Is this how you defeated the hobgoblin horde?"
"You're more distracting than a hobgoblin," I say. "Your hair is shinier."
"You have witchcraft in your lips," Baz says.
"Is that more Shakespeare?"
"Yeah, sorry, I know you prefer Homer."
He's pushing me back into a wooden post. I'm totally let ting him. I hold my foam sword up in front of my chest. His is pressed against it. "Check. Mate," he says.
That's completely wrong." I say.
"I win."
"I'm letting you win."
"That's still a win, Snow. That might even be a more conclusive win."
"That's not a road trip," Baz says, "that's the Odyssey. When did you read the Odyssey, Snow?"
Jowa is beautiful. It's all gentle green hills and fields of maize. It reminds me of England. But with fewer people in it.
**Baz**
lowa looks exactly like Illinois. I'm not sure why they bothered to separate them. Just an endless stretch of motorway and pig farms. (There's the distinction: Iowa smells more like pig than Illinois.) shit
The sun is relentless. The radio is blaring.
I haven't had any tea at all today. None.
And I've decided not to let my nose smoulder off, so I'm re applying sunscreen like an addict. And I think my magic's gone wonky.
" The burger or the steak ? " the waitress asks .
" Penny " Simon says , " you don't eat beef . "
" Oh , " she says . " Then I'll have the ... I'll have whatever people have . "
" People like the Buffalo Blasts , ” the waitress says .
" Isn't buffalo still beef ? " Simon asks me .
I shrug . I don't know the first thing about buffalo .
" They're chicken , " the waitress says . " With buffalo sauce."
"Fine" , Penny agrees .
"I suppose she can skip the sauce . . . . " Simon mutters after
He's lovely. ABIT of a sad mess. Dull and pale and rough round the edges. But still so lovely.
I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep on his shoulder.
En bref, vous n'auriez pu rêver plus belle journée pour être soulagé de toutes vos possessions par une dizaine de déserteurs.
- Avec du cidre ? s'étonna Bast
The smile was different from those vague, ambiguous half-smiles he had before, nor did it carry any taunt, sneer, or that unparalleled arrogance —— it was just a smile, like he was looking at not Shen Qiao but a beautiful flower.
Shen Qiao: “…”
The smile did not bring Shen Qiao joy. Rather, it looked indescribably creepy and horrifying.
Wei WuXian ne put s'empêcher de commenter, " Pourquoi l'admires-tu autant ? Ses invention étaient un vrai désastres ! "
( L'extrait vient de https://modaozushi-fantrad-fr.tumblr.com/ la traduction est vraiment bien !)
Pendant la Guerre du Crépuscule, le YiLing Laozu se tenait sur le champs de bataille et jouait de la flûte toute la nuit durant, manipulant ses soldats fantômes comme une véritable armée. Il piétinait tous les obstacles : Hommes ou dieux, tous ceux qui se dressaient devant lui finissaient terrassés. Sa flûte semblait jouée pas un Immortel et ne pouvait absolument pas être comparée aux horribles stridulations qu'avait joué le rejeton du clan Jin. Aussi horrible que fut le caractère de Wei WuXian, c'était trop insultant de les comparer de la sorte.
Wei WuXian se sentit quelque peu offensé,... Et si vous essayiez de jouer quelques notes après une dizaine d'années sans pratiquer en utilisant une pitoyable flûte réalisée à la va-vite ? Si cela sonne correctement, je m'agenouille devant vous !
À se sujet, Wei WuXian avait déclaré, " N'ai-je pas déjà assez l'air convenable comme ça ? "
Jiang Chan avait répondu avec beaucoup de perspicacité, "Tu seras certainement la seule honte de toute sa carrière d'enseignant."
— C’est faux, le détrompa le grand Chevalier. Il en reste deux.
( commentaire personnel, c'est l'un des trucs les moins rassurants que j'ai jamais lu )
- - Oh ! D'accord. On attend, alors, concéda Zaira, soudain plus conciliante.
- Les enfant ! Tout le monde est sauf ? Sommes nous en guerre ?
////Je ne sais pas pourquoi mais ça m'a fait rire ////
- Bien sûr que non, ma dame. La Contessa avait clairement fait savoir qu'elle souhaitait vous voir rentrer vivante.
- Mais prenez garde toutefois quand un Haut Ensorceleurs ce choisi un ennemis, il ne recule devant rien pour s'assurer la victoire. Il n'hésitera pas à exploiter la moindre de ses faiblesses, à tirer parti de chaque vulnérabilité. Même s'il sont amis par ailleurs. (Il affichait l'air réjoui de quelqu'un parlant de couronne aussi charmante que celle de ceindre de couronne de fleurs le front des fillettes à la fête du moi de mai.) Je suis ravie de devenir votre plus cordial adversaire, dame Amalia.