Quotes About Wraithlike

Clavain looked around the room, taking in the gruesome menagerie of wraithlike seniors, wizened elders and obscene glass-bottled end-state Conjoiners. They were all hanging on his answer, even the visible brains seeming to hesitate in their wheezing pulsations.

The wolf heads were aligned in a row, composed of jet-black paint bordered by pure white lines. Yet beneath the paint, delicate accents had been chiseled directly into the bricks. Teeth. Whiskers. The ghostly outlines of ears and snouts. Though roughly gouged, the engraved details gave the depictions a certain raw artistic appeal. A wraithlike flair. Excepting the eyes. Those were messy blobs of a brilliant scarlet. No lids. No pupils. Harsh. Unblinking.

I get the idea Donna is a mercenary, he thought. Not on salary. And they are the most wraithlike. They disappear forever. New names, new locations. You ask yourself, where is she now? And the answer is— Nowhere. Because she was not there in the first place.