Honorverse favorite passages

A third-generation prolong recipient, Pavletic looked even younger than she actually was. She was petite, delicately built, with honey-blond curly hair, blue eyes, a snub nose and freckles. Her hair very curly, so she kept it less five centimeters long. In her own private opinion, she looked like a flat-chested thirteen-year-old at the age of twenty-one. (SI1)

cthia wrote:I don't think rose has a weird taste at all. Actually I like a woman who knows what she likes. And rose knows what she likes and likes what she likes.

cthia wrote:I'm in love with a character whose fire was unceremoniously extinguished as well...

A third-generation prolong recipient, Pavletic looked even younger than she actually was. She was petite, delicately built, with honey-blond curly hair, blue eyes, a snub nose and freckles. Her hair very curly, so she kept it less five centimeters long. In her own private opinion, she looked like a flat-chested thirteen-year-old at the age of twenty-one. (SI1)

She was such a sweet character, and I was so poised to enjoy her all series long.

And I'm a hooked fish on a line for an attractive snub nosed woman. And the added benefit of freckles. Run down the aisle girl, I'm waitin' at the altar!

-Ekaterina 'Katia' Ivanova
-Cheryl Cole
-Elizabeth Taylor in her younger years

All right. The other thing to remember about mekoha is that it has some really nasty side effects. It's extremely addictive, and the lethal dose varies widely from individual to individual, particularly with the poor quality control the alchemists can manage, so a mekoha-smoker usually ends up doing himself in with it eventually. It provides a short-term sense of euphoria and exhilaration and mild—at least, usually mild—hallucinations, but in the long term it produces severe respiratory and motor control damage, gradual loss of neural function, and a marked decrease in both attention span and measurable IQ.

Summervale's face smoothed quickly into a masklike calm, and he rose with a curt nod. The woman stepped back out of the doorway, and he brushed past her with an oddly courteous apology. She watched him vanish down the hall, moving toward the com room with his customary cat-footed grace, and felt the familiar shiver he left in his wake. There was something coldly reptilian about him, part and parcel of his upper-class accent and the sort of instinctive courtesy he showed to all about him. He was like an heirloom sword, graceful and poised, but honed and lethal as chilled steel. She'd known more than her share of dangerous, lawless men, but none quite like him, and he frightened her. She hated to admit that, even to herself, yet it was true. The com room door closed behind him, and she turned away with another shiver, adjusting her dust mask as she opened the door to the lab and returned to her own responsibilities.

cthia wrote:I don't think rose has a weird taste at all. Actually I like a woman who knows what she likes. And rose knows what she likes and likes what she likes.

I'm in love with a character whose fire was unceremoniously extinguished as well...

A third-generation prolong recipient, Pavletic looked even younger than she actually was. She was petite, delicately built, with honey-blond curly hair, blue eyes, a snub nose and freckles. Her hair very curly, so she kept it less five centimeters long. In her own private opinion, she looked like a flat-chested thirteen-year-old at the age of twenty-one. (SI1)

She was such a sweet character, and I was so poised to enjoy her all series long.

And I'm a hooked fish on a line for an attractive snub nosed woman. And the added benefit of freckles. Run down the aisle girl, I'm waitin' at the altar!

-Ekaterina 'Katia' Ivanova
-Cheryl Cole
-Elizabeth Taylor in her younger years

crewdude48 wrote:
Oh god. He is going to get her started, isn't he? Duck and Cover!!!

She was such a sweet character, and I was so poised to enjoy her all series long.

He resumed his pacing, and his eyes were dark and ugly with memories. There had been a time when Captain the Honorable Denver Summervale, Royal Manticoran Marine Corps, would have been on the other side of this problem. But today he was in his element, on the side he should have been on from the beginning, for the Marines had decided they'd made a mistake the day they accepted his oath of allegiance. One they had corrected in the formal drama of a full-dress court martial.

A dangerous snarl bared his teeth, and his pace quickened as he recalled the moment. The spectators' humming silence, with the point of his dress sword turned towards him on the table before the glittering senior officers while the president of the court read the formal verdict. The roll of drums as he was marched out in mess dress uniform to face his regiment, an officer of the Queen in gorgeous black and green, standing with emotionless face while the most junior enlisted man in his own battalion ripped the buttons and decorations from his tunic to the slow, bitter tapping of the drum. The expression on his colonel's face as his epaulets and insignia were taken from him to be ground under a booted heel. The flat, metallic crack as the blade of his archaic dress sword snapped in the colonel's gloved hands.

Oh, yes, he remembered. And, despite his hatred, he knew they'd been right. They were the sheep, but Denver Summervale was a wolf, and he'd made his way even then in the way a wolf knew best—with his teeth.

Branded
Branded was an American Western series which aired on NBC from 1965 through 1966, sponsored by Procter & Gamble in its Sunday night 8:30 p.m. Eastern Time period, and starred Chuck Connors as Jason McCord, a United States Army Cavalry captain who had been drummed out of the service following an unjust accusation of cowardice.

"[Hyacinth] may not be as over as you'd like, Love. It's just as 'over' as it's going to get."

"Oh, Aivars!" [Sinead] put her arms around him, laying her head across his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart against her cheek, and tried not to weep. Tried not to show her fierce, bitter anger at the orders which were taking him away from her once more. Tried not to feel anger at the Admiralty for issuing them, or at him for accepting them.

"I love you very much, you know," she said quietly, not a trace of anger or resentment or fear in her voice.

"I know," he whispered, holding her tightly. "Believe me, I know."

"And I don't want you to go," she went on, closing her eyes. "You've done enough—more than enough. And I almost lost you once. I thought I had lost you, and the thought of losing you again, for good, terrifies me."

"I know," he whispered yet again, arms tightening about her with a welcome pain. But he didn't say "I won't go," and she fought down another spike of anger. Because he couldn't say it. He could never say it and be the man she loved. Hyacinth had wounded him in so many, many ways, yet the man she had always known was in there still. She knew it, and she clung to the knowledge, for it was her rock.

"I don't want you to go," she repeated, pressing her face into his chest. "Even though I know you have to. But you come back to me, Aivars Terekhov. You come back to me!"

"I will," he promised, and felt a single, scalding tear on his chest. He hugged her more tightly still, and neither of them spoke again for a long, long time. There was no need, for in all the forty-three T-years of their marriage, he had never broken a promise to her. Nor would he break this one . . . if the choice was his.

cthia wrote:Besting my sister and niece at Scrabble is a copper-plated Cordelia Ransom. It's simply impossible to win at this game against someone who snacks on crossword puzzles and are veritable encyclopedists! Who does an entire book of crossword puzzles in a day?!

roseandheather wrote:
Slander and lies. *innocent whistle*

Now here's a heart-wrencher for the romantics in the crowd:

"[Hyacinth] may not be as over as you'd like, Love. It's just as 'over' as it's going to get."

"Oh, Aivars!" [Sinead] put her arms around him, laying her head across his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart against her cheek, and tried not to weep. Tried not to show her fierce, bitter anger at the orders which were taking him away from her once more. Tried not to feel anger at the Admiralty for issuing them, or at him for accepting them.

"I love you very much, you know," she said quietly, not a trace of anger or resentment or fear in her voice.

"I know," he whispered, holding her tightly. "Believe me, I know."

"And I don't want you to go," she went on, closing her eyes. "You've done enough—more than enough. And I almost lost you once. I thought I had lost you, and the thought of losing you again, for good, terrifies me."

"I know," he whispered yet again, arms tightening about her with a welcome pain. But he didn't say "I won't go," and she fought down another spike of anger. Because he couldn't say it. He could never say it and be the man she loved. Hyacinth had wounded him in so many, many ways, yet the man she had always known was in there still. She knew it, and she clung to the knowledge, for it was her rock.

"I don't want you to go," she repeated, pressing her face into his chest. "Even though I know you have to. But you come back to me, Aivars Terekhov. You come back to me!"

"I will," he promised, and felt a single, scalding tear on his chest. He hugged her more tightly still, and neither of them spoke again for a long, long time. There was no need, for in all the forty-three T-years of their marriage, he had never broken a promise to her. Nor would he break this one . . . if the choice was his.

The Shadow of Saganami