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“I went over to the ruined building, where
the monster thing was groaning through its
death. I heaved aside a piece of rubble and
pulled a pale blue bathroom rug, stained
with dust and weird purple blood, out of
the wreckage. It was a tiny piece of an
environmental construct, but even so, it
was a serious effort to appropriate it as my
own. My arms shook with weakness as I
lifted the carpet and snapped it once.
Blood and dust flew from it as if it had
never existed, and then I settled it calmly
on flat ground, sat on it, and folded my
legs and my arms in front of me.
“Up, Simba,” I said in my best attempt to
imitate Yul Brynner, and the carpet
quivered and then rose off the ground,
staying as rigid and almost as comfortable
as a sheet of heavy plywood. It rose
straight in the air, and as it did, I gripped
the edges surreptitiously. It wouldn’t do to
have either my enemy or my apprentice get
a glimpse of me flailing wildly for my
balance as the carpet moved. But on the
other hand, I didn’t want to just fall off,
either. I could probably come up with
something to keep me from getting hurt
when I hit the ground, but it would look
awfully bad, and I don’t care how close to
dead he might be; a wizard has his pride.”
― Jim Butcher,
Ghost Story
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Librarian of Trivia, Emeritus