Novel & Cerita Puppetry Quotes

Alexander did not dare to exert too much force for fear of harming Brody, yet he had to keep him under control, which proved somewhat challenging. "My patience is limited. Tell me how to break this spell," Alexander exerted force once again, being careful not to waste too much energy. After all, Mister Xeno was still watching nearby. Chroma Wyrm coughed violently, his face pale, but a hint of a wicked smile appeared. "The heavens have blessed me with finding someone with extraordinary talent to cultivate the War Puppet. It's already a favor granted to me. I can die without regrets. "War Puppet, sel—" Snap!

Although the puppet was defeated, the cost of it was too high. All of this could have been saved at one point. Old Lady Peach chuckled evilly and turned to face the group, saying, "Look, isn't it a simple task? Alright now, which of you will come over and carry me? You cannot allow anything to happen to me, and as long as you leave this place safely, I will then naturally give you all the poison. Otherwise, it will be a mutated witch's poison, and there will be no way to unlock your poison even if the witch herself comes."

"Because it's fun." Every part of Tales' emotions and confusion seemed to feed the man's appetite for control. It was as if each puppeteer's tug on the strings brought the man a sinister satisfaction. "I love your eyes." He stated with a malevolent excitement. "Those eyes screaming for determination to live. It's as if you'll do anything as long as you survived." He stated.

“You’re their puppet…their warning and their curse.” The corrupted bride hesitated for a moment; anger flashed in her eyes but quickly disappeared behind another soft smile as she spoke again: “Perhaps. But puppets don’t speak with their own tongues. They don’t charm the next bride through their own desires. I’m not their warning, little fox; I’m a gift. I offer myself to you. Wear me, and the pain ends. Reject me, and you'll rot in this pit until your skin falls away and your bones cry out.”

Love POV “A puppeteer is inside the castle gates,” I say. The heavy oak door swings back with a groan. Cordelia steps into my private chambers. Her fingers lock around the frame. “What did you just say?” Cordelia asks. The air between us turns cold. A puppeteer spell is ancient. It is a dead art. It is the kind of magic that leaves a foul taste in the back of the throat. “You heard me,” I say. Anika pushes past her. Her face is pale. The rest of the coven elders crowd the corridor behind her. Their robes rustle like dry leaves.

He couldn’t believe that a Barbarian, people known for their dulled wits and uncouth minds, had seen through his Puppet Control Technique. “This has gotten very complicated,” his lips twitched uncontrollably as the connection to his puppets was destroyed in quick succession. Whatever it was that was happening in that smokescreen, it was not to his benefit.

And I couldn’t control my laughter when I recalled how badly he sucked at the language. “You know, I once read a grand quote by someone. It said, ‘Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet or painter.’” “If you’re lucky enough to be an artist’s muse, they will immortalise you.” I finish for him. It’s one of my favourite quotes of all times. He stares at me with a hint of warmth, his eyes telling me more about him than his words. We both avoid eye contact and glance at the table. I’ve no idea why I’m acting like a ten-year-old.

“Is it from Harry Potter?” A split-second look that’s half-impatient and half-disgusted passes over Ms. Perfect’s face. They’ve been going back and forth over her Double Vision Board for more than a month now. “What? Noooo. It’s a quote Sigmund Freud used in the beginning of his book The Interpretation of Dreams. It translates to: 'If I cannot deflect the will of heaven, then I shall move hell.'”

“Mhm.” Livie paused with a distant look in her eyes. “I seem to have vague memories of this place.” James met Zenoʼs eyes. Then, he transmitted his voice silently with his Zen. “What on earth is happening? Did something go wrong with your puppet-making process? Could it be that some memories of her past life are still lingering within the skeleton?”

I turned back to the window, my reflection framed in gold. “The puppeteer.”