ezra squall quotes @squallquotes

“Oh, don’t look so appalled,” Squall said, leaning back against the balustrade again, a frown creasing his brow.

Mr. Jones looked amused. “I don’t believe you’ll be licking envelopes at Squall Industries either.”

Squall tilted his head to the side. “Well, yes. That’s precisely why I’ve come. But nothing comes for free. We shall make an exchange.”

He finished his song, but the terrifying smile remained. “Miss Crow. You look like a person who’s figured something out.”

”I told you once before.” He spoke with a coolness and conviction that was not his own. “You must learn to deceive more skilfully, Miss Crow.”

Squall was silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts. “She had such a talent,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“And even better ... you are allowing me to use Wunder through you.”

”So now it’s time for your third lesson,” he went on. “The Wretched Art of Inferno.”

“Correct. You and every other child unfortunate enough to be born on Eventide. It was meant to be a mercy.”

“I do hope the huntsman minded his manners.” He spoke in a pleasant, conversational tone. They could have been strangers discussing the weather.

“Oh, don’t look so appalled,” Squall said, leaning back against the balustrade again, a frown creasing his brow. “And don’t act as if you weren’t pleased. I have done this for you, after all. I confess, I did think you’d be a little more grateful.”

“Mm. Now do something Wundrous. Anything.”

“This is what you want, isn’t it, Miss Crow?” Another snap, and a flagpole sprouted from the uppermost spire, a black flag bearing Morrigan’s face waving proudly in the breeze.

“What are you so afraid of? That you might one day be as powerful as they suspect? Are you frightened of your own potential for greatness, little Crowling? Are you really such a coward?”

“Or the crowling, little crowling, will peck out your eyes.”

Squall held up a hand for silence. “Little crowling, little crowling,’ he sang softly, ‘with button-black eyes.”

“The Courage Square Massacre—that was you. You murdered those people.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Guilty. What else?”

Ezra laid his hand on a wooden desk and stared at it in silence, concentrating hard, until his skin transformed, chameleon-like, to almost perfectly resemble the wood grain.

“It’s not for me to say why Mr. Squall wants what he wants,” said Mr. Jones, briefly unclasping his hands to straighten his spectacles again. “I’m only his assistant. I carry out his wishes. Right now he wishes for you to become his student, Miss Crow... and his heir.”

“The Gossamer Line is a wonderful thing, Miss Crow—I should know, I created it—but sometimes it’s a prison.” His face brightened. “Let me show you how that feels.”