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Meggie felt as if the stones were whispering those names to her as she walked past the graves -- Farina, Rosa, Lucio, Renzo. The stones that bore no names seemed like closed mouths, sad mouths that had forgotten how to speak. But, perhaps the dead didn't mind what their names had once been.

-- Inkdeath (Page 222)

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So many men dead, Resa. Just because you want to go home. There was blood all over the paving stones, and when Mo dragged away the soldier who had been holding her, man's eyes still seemed to stare at her. Was she sorry for him? No. But it sent a shiver down her spine to hear her daughter, too, speak so casually of killing. And what did Mo feel about it? Did he feel anything anymore? She saw him wiping off his sword with one of the dead men's cloaks, and looking her way. Why couldn't she read his thoughts in his eyes now, like she used to?

Because it was The Bluejay she saw there. And this time she had summoned him herself.

-- Inkdeath (Page 199)

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Bluejay (Sparkbird, 2022) / Inkdeath (Cornelia Funke, 2007)

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inkdeath really got me feeling like:

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Roxane never asked why Resa had wept almost as much as she had on the night when Dustfinger had made a deal with the White Women. They had become friends not through talking, but by sharing experiences for which there were no words. - Inkdeath (Page 90)

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what if you were in your third trimester and were sleeping on the ground and you regularly woke up to the sound of your husband washing blood off his clothes and your daughter didn't like you and you tried to save your kids from having to grow up where they weren't allowed to write or own dogs or get vaccinated and all that got you was the confirmation your marriage was almost over and your only prenatal care came from your dead AP's spouse and even the people you saw as friends started to see you as nothing more than a womb who should lay down and rest and stay out of real people's business and you still thought grrm was going to finish asoiaf

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shout out to the people who keeping tagging my caleb art as dustfinger and the other way around. this is for you <3

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Midnight over Sanctaphrax quote in inkdeath??

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no thoughts on inkspell. again. tbqh the whole middle of the book blurs together, and i don't really ever remember it (which is why it's my least favourite.)

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So I'm re-reading all of the inkworld books for the first time as an adult

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I want to remove these maids and Farid from Orpheus' clutches immediately. They deserve better!

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Had the other world been like this? Why could he hardly remember? had life there been the same mixture of darkness and light, cruelty and beauty...so much beauty that it sometimes made you drunk? - Inkdeath (page 13)

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Cosimo (the second one):

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Inkworld Character Descriptions (Part 1 - Inkheart)

Note: I said I'd do this in 2020, and then didn't, so here it is now! Also, this is just characters' initial descriptions, otherwise this would be far to long. Please let me know if I've missed anything, and I will add it.

(Sorted by appearance in the book!)

Dustfinger

Page 11: At first, all seemed still outside except for the rain falling, murmuring as if the night had found its voice. But then footsteps approached the house, and the man emerged from the darkness of the yard, his long coat so wet with rain that it clung to his legs. For a split second, as the stranger stepped into the light spilling out of the house, Meggie thought she saw a small furry head over his shoulder, snuffling as it looked out of his rucksack and then quickly disappearing back into it.

Page 12: 'Twelve? My word!' Dustfinger pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead. It reached almost to his shoulders. The stubble around his narrow-lipped mouth was gingery, like the fur of the stray cat Meggie sometimes fed with a saucer of milk outside the door. Ginger hair sprouted from his cheeks, too, sparse as a boys first beard but not long enough to hide three long, pale scars. They made Dustfinger's face look like he'd been smushed and stuck back together again.

Page 27: He appeared so suddenly that Mo almost ran him down. He wore only a sweater, and he was shivering, with his arms over his chest. His coat was probably still damp from last night's rain, but his hair was dry now - a ruffled, sandy mop above his scarred face.

Mo

Page 16: Then he sat down on her bed, passed his hands over his tired face and looked out the window. His hair was as dark as moleskin.

Page 168: He was holding Inkheart. Meggie saw Mo's gaze linger on the book. Capricorn was a tall man, but Mo stood a few centimetres taller, which obviously displeased Capricorn.

Meggie

Page 16: Meggie had fair hair like her mother, who she knew only from a few faded photographs.

Gwin

Page 33: The creature was almost the size of a rabbit, but much, thinner, with a bushy tail now draped over Dustfinger's chest like a fur collar. It dug its slender claws into his sleeve while inspecting with its gleaming beady black eyes, and when it yawned it bared teeth as sharp as needles.

Elinor

Page 40: The woman who came out was older than Mo, quite a lot older - although Meggie could not be quite sure how old grown-up were. Her face reminded Meggie of a bulldog, but perhaps that was more her ferocious expression than its features. She wore a mouse grey sweater and an ash-gray skirt, with a pearl necklace 'round her neck and felt slippers on her feet, the kind of slippers Meggie had to wear when she and Mo had visited an historic castle.

Basta

Page 127: Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy's, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her. She was afraid of him. She had never been so afraid of anyone before, and it wasn't just because of the shotgun in his hand. He had an aura of fury around him, of something keen and biting--

Capricorn

Page 131: Capricorn's dressing gown was red to. He was seated in an armchair when Basta entered the room with the three new arrivals, and a woman was kneeling in front of him cutting his toenails. The chair seemed to small for him. Capricorn was a tall man, and gaunt, as if the skin had been stretched too tight over his bones. His skin was as pale as parchment, his hair cut short and bristly. Meggie couldn't have said if it was grey or very fair.

Page 167: He was wearing a suit as red as the church walls. Only the shirt beneath it was black, and he had a black feather in the buttonhole.

Page 167: 'Did you sleep well, Silvertongue?' He had curiously soft, curving, almost feminine lips, and as he spoke he kept running his little finger along as if to retract them.

Flatnose

Page 161: One of the two men, a tall great tall beanpole, looked as if a giant had pressed his face flat with his thumb.

Cockerell

Page 161: The other was small and thin, with a goatee beard on his receding chin. He kept fiddling with his shotgun, and glowered unpleasantly at the three of them, as if he felt like shooting them on the spot.

Darius

Page 176: The church door opened as if Cockerell had been waiting for this cue. The man he ushered in had his head hunched between his shoulders and looked neither right nor left as he was followed Cockerell. He was small and thin, and couldn't be any older than Mo, but his back was bent like an old man's, and his arms and legs moved awkwardly, as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. He kept nervously adjusting his glasses. The frame was held together over the bridge of his nose with sticky tape, as if it had often been broken. He was clutching a number of books to his chest with his left arm, as if they offered some protection from the stares turned on him from all sides and the sinister place to which he had been brought.

Farid

Page 187: The boy was three of four years older than Meggie. The turban around his head was dirty, his eyes dark in his brown face. He blinked and rubbed them as if he could wipe it all away -- the wrong picture, the wrong place. He looked round the church as if he had never seen such a building before, and how could he? There wouldn't be any churches with spires in his story, or green hills like those would see outside. The robe he wore went down to his brown feet, and in the dim light of the church it shone blue as a patch of the sky.

Fenoglio

Page 257: It was just as Mo had said: in general one thinks of writers as dead, or very, very old. But the man who opened the door to the both of them, after Mo had rung the bell twice, was neither. That is, he was certainly quite old, at least in Meggie's eyes: in his mid-sixties or even older. His face was wrinkled like a turtle's, but his hair was black without a trace of grey (she was to find out later that he dyed it), and he didn't look at all fragile. On the contrary: he planted himself so impressively in the doorway that Meggie was instantly tongue-tied.

Mortola

Page 235: The old woman who looked like a magpie and whom Meggie didn't like to remember was standing beside them, impatiently giving directions.

Page 449: The Magpie rubbed her other leg. They were both wrapped in bandages that could be seen through the dark stockings she wore.

Resa

Page 381: Meggie couldn't see the face of the woman dangling in the net just beyond Dustfinger. She saw only the dark blonde hair, a blue dress, and slender hands clinging to the ropes.

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drawing a dirt wizard to calm down

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Bookbinder, Adderhead, Swallow, Firedancer.

//

Buchbinder, Natternkopf, Schwalbe und Feuertänzer. Die Weissen Frauen strecken ihre bleichen Hände nach der Natter aus. Herz - Blut - Tod.

Watercolour, Ink, Coloured Pencil.

20.07.2024

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I did send this to the discord, but look! I have a copy now!