#hmtb quotes

[angeart]

hmtb quotes i'm collecting on my reread (pt 1??)

chapter 7 - Lighthouse In The Storm:

He feels off-balance. He feels like he’s standing at the ruins of a desert castle and their lives have a set countdown and he has to try to make sure nobody can hurt them.

chapter 8 - Relying On You:

Maybe it was Grian’s touch and presence that finally made him doze off—the knowledge that he’s close-by and safe and that, if necessary, Scar can jump up and protect him. He’s not even fully aware of how similar that feels to Monopoly Mountain, when they slept near each other, ready to face any threat together. All he knows is that it’s familiar and comforting and easy to slip into.

chapter 8 - Relying On You:

Why did he think Mumbo might be a threat to Grian? Mumbo cares so much about him, and Scar knows it, he does, he just, he—he—

His thoughts fail to spin up a reasonable explanation. 

Maybe it was this room? The red? The light purple? The scent of flowers and sand—

No, no, there is no sand here. It is all made out of wood and copper and right out the window, there are lush green trees and mountains, nothing akin to sandstone and desert in sight.

chapter 9 - Safety Is But A Feather, And Feathers Burn So Easily

He turns to look and he sees Scar’s face, relaxed in a way he just doesn’t see when Scar is awake. He’s glad to see him calm and at peace, because he’s haunted by the look he gave him when he said Grian, please, no—back at the top of Mumbo’s mountain—the way he tipped backwards in the way Grian’s hands dictated, the look he gave him falling over the edge… That’s the thought his mind kept going back to while Scar avoided him. And now here he is, so close, so calm, so unafraid, and Grian’s heart hurts.

chapter 10 - Fever Dreams And Diamond Swords I

He can feel it again, crawling across his skin—that urgent need to push all threats away from Grian, to make it just the two of them against everyone else, to not rely on anyone’s false promises and tricks and—his head is full of a sprawling, cacti-outlined desert and life countdowns and TNT covered by grains of sand.

chapter 10 - Fever Dreams And Diamond Swords I

“You know, he’s kinda unhinged lately.”

“Mm.” Grian’s fist curls into bedsheets where Scar was, the fabric still warm. He closes his eyes. “It feels familiar,” he mumbles sleepily. 

“Familiar?” Mumbo raises his eyebrows. “You make it sound like a good thing.”

Even with fever and exhaustion, pain and vulnerability, Grian’s lips curl into a cheshire smile, and he opens one eye to look at Mumbo. “It feels like hot sun and sand and the edge of a guillotine.”

chapter 11 - Fever Dreams And Diamond Swords II

“You have a fever,” Scar explains to him gently, “so things might not make sense now. But you’re safe. Okay? Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

With trembling hands, Grian points the sword at him.

Scar lets the tip touch his chest. “Grian, if you hit me once, I’ll die,” he tells him in that same, gentle tone.

He isn’t afraid. He isn’t thinking about the impending pain of respawn, with all its horrendous consequences—no, the only thing he’s thinking of is Grian, and making him feel safe, and if Grian doesn’t feel safe with him there, he allows him to remove him.

Grian blinks the tears from his eyes. He isn’t moving.

“You can kill me, if you want,” Scar offers like he has a death wish.

Something flashes in Grian’s eyes at those words. And in that instant, they're not on the hardwood floor surrounded by petals anymore. Water laps at their legs and their eyes are red and Grian’s sword points at Scar and—with absolute intensity and clarity, Grian knows he doesn’t want to kill him, but then—but then there is the ring of cacti and the blood on his knuckles and—

The sword clatters out of his hands and he’s pressing his palms into his eyes, breathing raggedly at air that refuses to fill his lungs.

[angeart]

hmtb quotes i'm collecting on my reread (pt 1.5)

chapter 12 - The Things We Cannot Touch (Are Your Feathers And My Heart)

There's a breeze pushing against their skin. The day is sunny, the trees sway, the clouds overhead drift lazily.

For a moment, Scar allows himself to close his eyes and just enjoy it, to let it lull him, to calm down the anxious beat of his heart. Maybe he can pretend, for five seconds at least, that this is a normal day. That things don’t hurt. That there isn’t a Grian in his bed, with blood-stained feathers and tear-stained cheeks. That there isn’t a dustpan full of crushed flower petals in the corner of his bedroom. That there isn’t a blooming panic in his chest whenever he thinks about death. That he isn’t completely, utterly helpless in this all.