I’m not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. I’ve seen a chunk of the universe, true, but there’s still so much more to see. I doubt I’ll ever cure this wanderlust, and I’m content with dedicating my life to failing to sate it... He’s never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.
Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace, we got Teras incoming? He levels angry blue eyes on me. You’re a hex, lady, dark luck, powerful bad juju, ken? Only to people who try to kidnap me, I tell him sweetly, and March snorts, so I feel obliged to add, Or rescue me… And then Dina makes a pfft sound. Or who travel with me… My gaze sweeps around the darkened interior, trying to find an ally, but nobody will hold my eyes more than two seconds, it seems. Fine, frag you all, I’m dark juju, bad luck, and you’re all doomed.
You could miss someone, but it did no good to fixate on loss. I wished I had the ready words of a Breeder or the ability to comfort with a soft touch. I didn't. Instead I had daggers and determination. That would have to do.
I want to drag you off and hide you away, he whispered. Why? I always knew you were beautiful, but now everyone else will too. I won’t be able to keep other boys away from you, and it’ll make me crazy.