Bo: Graverobbing - it just sounds so, 19th century, doesn't it? And yes, most of the Fae I know think that was last week, I realize, but still, it's weird for 'us youngsters'.
Lauren: You know the old 'be careful what you wish for' axiom? I saw it in action this time, and the unrestrained Bo was - compelling, to put it mildly.
Kenzi: I know I'm skipping ahead, but seriously, does this guy look like a long-lost cousin of the Addams family, or what?
Trick: The rules of the waystation are rarely enforced, since neither Lachlan nor Evony see any real value - or, I suspect, they don't want me talking to any more of their people than they can avoid. In the one case of the Lich, perhaps I should thank them.
Hale: I got conned, straight up. My boy just served me up on a platter to The Glaive - it was cold.
Kenzi: I could totally see myself as a ballerina - in another far more sheltered life. Hey, it's not impossible, you know. My great-great-aunt had an audition with the Kirov, so there. And another thing - you've go the whole of eternity to think of a decent name, who the hell comes up with 'Lich' like 'lick'? I mean, puh-lease.
Lich: The world bleeds out - 'tis sad but true. Every century, the colours are marginally fewer, the scents have lost a little of their edge, the greyness creeps inward. I am the conservator of Mnemosyne, the living, breathing - yes, exulting memory. There is no price too high for such.
Bo: Death really should be the end of your worries, you know?
The Glaive: My duties compelled me to seek the momentary aid of other Lights - and I was surprised by the outcome.