“Oh, I was so not a wilting flower. I’d let a man pick me up and carry me because I couldn’t handle the price of using magic when I was dead. Again.”

“I can’t let you die!” I sobbed. “It’ll be like I’m dead anyways without you. Since I left, that’s what it’s felt like—like some part of me died because I couldn’t be with you, couldn’t see you. I’d rather die knowing it was for your freedom.”

“I am but a flower. Do with me what thou wilt.”

“I was so lost, didn't know what to do with myself, I was my own worst enemy, I was lost and oh I needed help, Then you came along, and saw what state I was in, You picked me up, when I was down, Showed me how to live again.”

“Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.”

“If I didn’t want you so much,” he said in a deadly purr, “I’d let you keep fucking me with your gaze, but you make me impatient.”