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“Built into the box were compartments and sleeves and holders, all full of brushes and paints and charcoal and sheets of paper. A travelling painting kit. Red- the red paint inside the glass vial was so bright, the blue as stunning as the eyes of that faerie woman I'd slaughtered- 'I thought you might want it to take around the grounds with you, rather than lug all those bags like you always do.' The brushes were fresh, gleaming- the bristles soft and clean. Looking at the box, at what was inside, felt like examining a crow-picked corpse. I tried to smile. Tried to will some brightness to my eyes. He said. 'You don't like it.' 'No,' I managed to say. 'No- it's wonderful.' And it was. It really was. I thought if you started painting again...' I waited for him to finish. He didn't. My face heated.” — Sarah J. Maas