Lysander au Lune Quotes

36

"She is no traitor,” Lysander says, handing her the scepter. The blood of his grandmother staining his hands. “She is our conqueror."

Morning Star, ch. 63: Silence, p. 503

"LUX EX TENEBRIS. - Light from darkness."

Iron Gold, ch. 8: Lysander, p. 60

"My name is Lysander au Lune. I was named for a contradiction: a Spartan general who had the mind of an Athenian."

Iron Gold, ch. 8: Lysander, p. 62

"Cassius brought us here in search of redemption, but no matter how many traders we save from pirates, or foundered ships we rescue, his eyes remain dark, and I still dream of the demons from my past."

Iron Gold, ch. 8: Lysander, p. 63

"The term Ascomanni is derived from the Germanic for “Ash Men.” The first Vikings sailed down European rivers in boats of ash wood. And ash is what they left behind. Once, the Ascomanni were just deepspace legends, dark whispers passed by traders and smugglers to new recruits in the shadowy hollows of asteroid cantinas or docking-bay watering holes. In the deep of space, so they’d say, there lurked Obsidian tribes who escaped the Society’s culling of the rest of their race following the Dark Revolt hundreds of years ago. Hunted by my family’s extermination squads and Olympic Knights, they fled into the darkness. For years they plagued the far colonies of Neptune and Pluto, remaining little more than myth to the Core. But now, with the Obsidian diaspora from the poles of Earth and Mars, that myth has become reality. Bands of Obsidians, alienated by the new strange world, freed from military slavery to Gold masters—or exhausted from the Reaper’s war—embrace the legend of their ancestors. They’ve not so much left the Ice as they’ve brought the Ice to the stars."

Iron Gold, ch. 8: Lysander, p. 71

"As from the darkening gloom a silver dove upsoars, and darts into the Eastern light, On pinions that naught moves but pure delight, So fled thy soul into the realms above, Regions of peace and everlasting love…."

Iron Gold, ch. 15: Lysander, p. 127

"There is an intensity to his quiet, like a lone cold stone sitting in a still pool of water. A humility to his bearing and expression that I did not expect, and in some way makes me feel as if we stumbled upon an ancient creature in his private garden, one who has seen the shaping of worlds, the sundering of empires. I feel calm, but very, very small as the myth earns flesh. Unlike me, he stood before the Reaper but did not surrender his moon. He gave an arm and a son to protect it."

Iron Gold, ch. 25: Lysander, p. 224

"One could argue for the necessary industry of Reds or the cultlike military religion instilled in Grays, or the efficiency and neutered emotions in Coppers, but this…Pinks were not needed to make my grandmother’s world function. They were built for lechery, subjected to centuries of systematic breeding, abuse, psychological and sexual domination. Chemically neutered and twisted inside so that their suicide rate is eleven times higher than that of any other Color."

Iron Gold, ch. 32: Lysander, p. 306

"Ionian Golds believe mirrors promote vanity and obsession with the self. It’s a crime for even a lowColor to possess one."

Iron Gold, ch. 36: Lysander, p. 350

"Grandmother thought talkative men the most hilarious of creatures, so busy projecting that they never notice anything until the jaws of the trap close around their legs. The key to learning, to power, to having the final say in everything, is observation. By all means, be a storm inside, but save your movement and wind till you know your purpose."

Iron Gold, ch. 36: Lysander, p. 354

"a Chance, a young girl of the White caste carrying a white bag, leads a Justice, an old blind woman with milky eyes and translucent hair, onto the fighting floor. One day the little girl will grow old, and, if she reaches a state of transcendence, she will summon the courage to chemically blind herself and become a Justice herself. It is the ultimate honor of this hierophant race. Raised in monastic sanctuaries, they endeavor to divorce themselves from their humanity and embody the spirit of justice. Though many Whites in my grandmother’s Society aspired to more worldly and profitable heights."

Iron Gold, ch. 40: Lysander, p. 388

"As the destruction rains, the Reaper turns from the viewport, his face a death mask of grief and pain, and I feel as if I hear his heart beat across the years, across the space, and know how far he’s come from the man he wanted to be."

Iron Gold, ch. 47: Lysander, p. 444

"I marvel at the boldness of Darrow’s charade, even at the shrewdness of his cruelty. In the last moment of his victory, he saw an opportunity to win a war against the Rim that had not even begun, and he took it with as bold a maneuver as I’ve ever seen. But it is certainty I feel, not respect or horror. This is the man I once idolized. An unpredictable gambler of savage intellect with a limitless capacity for violence. I respect his capabilities, but I do not respect the man. And here, in the wake of his destruction, I understand beyond a shadow of a doubt that to protect mankind, the Reaper must die."

Iron Gold, ch. 47: Lysander, p. 445

"Alis aquilae. The words of your house. ‘On eagle’s wings.’"

Iron Gold, ch. 48: Lysander, p. 448

"Lorn au Arcos once said it is the duty of every man to listen to his enemies. When you spoke I listened. Your war is just. Cassius did not believe that, but he is gone. And to honor the dead at the cost of the living is a vanity none of us can afford."

Iron Gold, ch. 56: Lysander, p. 527

"We were created because Earth broke itself. Because man disintegrated into tribal strife. Chaos is the nature of man; order, the dream of Gold. We were made to shepherd. To unite, despite our differences"

Iron Gold, ch. 63: Lysander, p. 586

"Atalantia has a savage brain and immensely contagious charisma. She is hindered by neither guilt nor doubt. She knows no half measures. She is a social strategist, a herpetologist, a sculptor, a laughing, masterful woman in love with the sound of her own voice, and convinced that beauty is the pinnacle of existence—in any form."

Dark Age, ch. 2: Lysander: Annihilo, p. 19

"Owing to two sophisticated poisonings of Sovereigns and one dreadful incident of cloning, my family guards their DNA as if it were life itself. Why else would we convince the rest of the Aureate to embrace the ritual of shooting the deceased into the sun? Because it looks pretty? Nothing is to be left behind."

Dark Age, ch. 4: Lysander: Ajax, Son of Aja, p. 29

"Never deny your enemy a chance for retreat. Victory may cost too much."

Dark Age, ch. 4: Lysander: Ajax, Son of Aja, p. 32

"You think this is about me. It isn’t. Darrow thinks this is about good and evil. It isn’t. This is about order and chaos. I have chosen my side."

Dark Age, ch. 8: Lysander: The Machine, p. 63

"Is a man a coward if he realizes that bravery is just a myth the old tell the young so they line up for the meatgrinder?"

Dark Age, ch. 10: Lysander: The Ash Rain, p. 77

"Only humanity could grasp the stars and then let them slip through its fingers for the pettiness in its heart."

Dark Age, ch. 10: Lysander: The Ash Rain, p. 78

"From a distance, death seems the end of a story. But when you are near, when you can smell the burning skin, see the entrails, you see death for what it is. A traumatic cauterization of a life thread. No purpose. No conclusion. Just snip. I knew war was dreadful, but I did not expect to fear it. How can anyone not, when death is just a blind giant with scissors?"

Dark Age, ch. 16: Lysander: Rider of the Storm, p. 124

"Before all else, Praetorians are equestrians. Before they learn to shoot, they shovel stable stalls. Each is given a young horse to train while at the ludus. At the end of their training, they are given a gun and told to kill the horse. The mindless killers that do are bound for the blackops legions. Only those that prove themselves loyal to their comrades, be they beast or man, are trusted to guard the Blood."

Dark Age, ch. 16: Lysander: Rider of the Storm, p. 125

"As violence reaches for him, Darrow does not flinch like a man; he reaches like a covetous river. He pulls violence to him, drinks it into his current, and leaps around the battlefield with a seemingly mindless capriciousness. Which, when inspected, illuminates the genius of his violence. He herds us together, making sure we are tight and compact so that our options constrict and his men’s expand."

Dark Age, ch. 16: Lysander: Rider of the Storm, p. 132