𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 / boned .

Anger is a familiar feeling for Arya – one she’s been told to keep close to her chest her entire life. If it burns bright enough, it will be the light that guides you. In the aftermath of the battle, Arya feels that familiar anger blossoming in her chest once more like a rose, anger she’s done her best to quell in the month since the war ended. But the more she tries to starve it of oxygen, the fiercer the flame grows. She thinks of the bodies strewn across the throne room, the taste of blood on her lips, blood on her face and hands and arms and everywhere. The attack is a violation of everything everyone had spent years accomplishing together.  Peace, or the semblance of it, was not to be known by them for some time it seems. 

As she packs her things, Arya struggles to settle herself, to find that inner calm she’s always fallen short of. She hardly realizes she’s got a shawl in hand until she hears the slight singe and looks down as silk slips through her finger, becoming ash though there had been no flame. Arya swears as the door to her room opens and Briar enters. Kicking at the small pile of ash at her feet, she holds up her hands, bare. “Have you seen my gloves?” The gloves aren’t always a necessity, but it seems that today she cannot keep her emotions in check. And the last thing she needs is to ruin anymore of her things, or anyone. @bhriar​

returning  to  the  employment  of  the  spring  court  palace  had  been  less  of  a  choice  and  more  of  an  instinct  ─  she  belonged  in  spring,  no  matter  how  welcoming  the  summer  court  had  been  when  she  had  been  forced  to  evacuate  her  burning  lands  in  search  of  the  one  place  where  the  fires  held  no  power.  she  had  not  dared  to  cross  a  foot  into  the  borders  of  the  autumn  court,  fearful  that  the  animosity  between  the  high  families  would  extend  to  any  spring  courtier  that  ventured  in  search  of  help  and  though  the  summer  court  had  been  damaged  beyond  belief,  the  refugee  tents  had  not  asked  any  questions  when  she  had  stumbled  through  the  borders,  smoke  in  her  lungs  and  two  young  children  strapped  to  her  body.  she  had  expected  the  new  consort  of  spring  to  be  entirely  flame,  as  passionate  as  her  forebearers  and  while  arya  certainly  had  a  spark  to  her  that  would  frighten  a  weaker  fae,  briar  had  spent  her  formative  years  beneath  the  late  high  lady  of  spring,  a  woman  that  was  more  thorn  than  soft  petal.  it  did  help  that  most  of  the  spring  court  still  looked  at  arya  valiathan  with  suspicion,  the  hurt  of  war  still  fresh  on  the  mind  ─  it  only  made  briar  more  determined  to  become  something  of  a  friend  to  the  autumn  court  female,  to  help  her  adapt  to  a  world  where  war  was  not  always  at  their  door.

or  so  she  had  thought.

being  away  from  the  spring  court  was  an  activity  that  made  kamelya  anxious.  ever  since  the  war  started  she  never  left  her  court  for  real  --  she  had  crossed  to  the  mortal  lands  but  under  different  circumstances.  the  lady  tried,  but  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  feel  comfortable  under  the  mountain.  there  was  something  in  the  lack  of  sunlight,  or  in  the  atmosphere  that  kept  kamelya  unsettled.  and  the  fact  that  any  time  she  touches  the  stone  walls  she  can  only  feel  a  deep  and  ancient  echo...  well,  she  can  only  desire  to  leave  the  mountain  as  soon  as  possible.

 as  the  new  laws  were  read,  kamelya  couldn't  help  but  feel  that  warm  feeling  in  her  heart.  they  did  it,  the  war  was  really  over  now,  and  the  mortals  would  be  safe.  the  lady  even  cried  during  the  ceremony,  and  she  wasn't  ashamed  of  that.  when  her  brother  was  about  to  point  out  that  it  wasn't  appropriate  for  her  to  be  crying  there,  kamelya  left  the  throne  room.  she  started  her  path  down  the  corridor  when  she  heard  the  screams  coming  from  the  throne  room.  and  when  the  mist  also  reached  the  corridor,  kamelya  didn't  think  twice  before  running  down  to  the  opposite  side.  she  wasn't  running  to  hide,  she  was  looking  for  the  people  she  loved  first.

 the  moment  she  catch  sight  of  briar,  her  best  friend,  she  slowed  her  pace.  “  are  you  okay?  ”  are  the  first  words  that  leave  her  mouth,  her  heart  racing  with  fear.  the  thought  of  the  war  starting  again  making  it  harder  for  her  to  breathe.  just  a  few  minutes  back  she  was  so  happy,  so  hopeful.  “  the  throne  room-  i-  we  need  help.  ”

if  the  choice  had  been  hers  to  make,  the  urisk  would  have  not  left  the  undoubted  security  of  the  spring  court,  whose  babbling  brooks  and  thorny  thistles  were  as  familiar  to  her  as  each  breath  in  her  lungs  ─  she  would  have  found  a  way  for  her  sweet  lady  to  remain  behind  as  well,  aware  that  kamelya  would  find  not  peace  away  from  home  and  especially  in  somewhere  that  was  so  entrenched  in  ancient  magics  as  the  sacred  mountain.  unfortunately,  like  much  in  her  life,  briar  had  very  little  choice  in  the  matter  beyond  making  certain  that  her  presence  was  a  constant  support  to  her  lady,  representing  both  the  agriculturalist  guild  and  the  high  family  with  her  attendance.  still,  it  was  decided  that  she  was  too  ...  lesser  to  be  in  attendance  for  something  as  important  as  the  treaty  signing  and  while  she  had  tried  not  to  allow  the  true  reasons  to  bleed  through  the  excuses  she  had  given  kamelya  that  morning,  something  uneasy  had  settled  in  her  belly  as  the  hours  stretched  with  no  news  from  above.  

she  had  taken  the  children  down  to  the  kitchens,  spooning  warm  and  sweetened  porridge  into  their  pouting  mouths  and  setting  them  to  play  by  the  fireplace  as  she  waited  in  relative  boredom,  pulling  at  the  dried  skin  near  her  fingers  and  digging  dirt  from  under  her  nails.  she  had  just  finished  picking  a  blade  of  grass  from  under  one  of  her  nails  when  a  scream  echoed  down  the  corridor,  sending  the  kitchen  staff  into  high  alert.  one  hand  lifted  and  silently,  her  children  were  enclosed  in  a  thorny  cocoon  of  safety,  the  oldest  clutching  the  youngest  to  her  side  as  briar  strode  towards  the  entrance  of  the  kitchen  and  dining  hall,  nearly  bumping  into  the  one  person  who  had  entered  her  thoughts  immediately  at  the  first  signs  of  distress.

tashimrod: Not over this look

love and tangerines