ANCIENT AS THE SEA

she feels regretful over adding a new player to the game. if one could call this life a game. it's just been one nightmare after another and every time she believes they're starting to settle down and the dust his hitting the ground, something new happens. and when that something new happens, one more kid or adult is added to the party. they're no longer blind to the truth and now welcome to this hell ride.

joyce frowns slightly, not so much over how nesta responded, but because she feels bad. these are kids and teens. young adults. their youth is being stolen from them before her eyes and there's not much she can do but support where she can.

" that was years ago. " her voice is uncharacteristically dumbstruck. nesta remembers the endless search parties for the byers boy. remembers gossip about a body found in the quarry and mrs byers and her eldest son arguing in the street. remembers kids whispering and snickering about the zombie boy for months after he was returned safe and sound. it all makes sense now. his disappearance marked the start of one strange event after another for hawkins – but for them it seems the years have been filled with horrors she’s barely scratched the surface of.

‧︑ ⸺ ❀ hyacinth had never once allowed herself to indulge that little green monster in the back of her head. always too busy, always found it ridiculous to do anything of the sort. yet here she was, brows pinched and lips a tight line. COMPARING. exactly what nesta said. it earned her a little bit of a narrowed eye look before exhaling sharply.

in the years since she married her husband, nesta has spent many a blissful season watching from the sidelines. the romantics among the women of the ton cherish being able to witness matches being made, but nesta finds joy in watching girls flourish into young women. particularly the ones she recognises a glimmer of herself in. when she debuted in society her nights were sleepless. thoughts about how a suitable suitor would never find her agreeable enough to marry filled her with more dread than any nightmare could. that sleeplessness made her even less affable than usual. for a moment she thought she’d recognised that fear in hyacinth, but the bite in her words brings a smile to her lips. reassures her that she has enough fight left to be just fine.

even after all this time looking into her youngest sisters face and seeing her own startles her. but she's pleased to find that with each passing day their resemblance bothers her less – feels less like something they share with their mother, and more like something they share with one another. perhaps that’s why she’s able to spende more time with her… why she’s able to share personal details of her life with feyre without fighting the urge to grimace. but a grimace surely finds her at the mention of rhysand.

duskdivined asked: we've been researching legends, but there isn't much to go on. ✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐏𝐓 𝟏.

nesta considers the wingleader carefully. she’s utterly lethal, visciousness rolls off her in waves. but she’s honourable, too. the made fae could think of worse allies – has had worse allies. she offers the silver-haired beauty a sharp nod and an outstretched hand follows.

nesta   is   about   to   take   their   daughter   away   for   half   of   their   agreed   upon   full   time.   they'd   come   to   the   agreement   rather   easily   as   neither   of   them   wanted   to   take   their   daughter   away   from   the   other.   dorian   prided   himself   on   how   easy   it   was   to   parent   gigi   with   nesta.   it   was   a   walk   in   the   park,   almost   literally   at   times.   he   never   regretted   a   minute   of   their   relationship   or   their   time   together.   the   only   thing   that   he'd   regretted   was   splitting   gigi's   time.   the   woman   didn't   have   to   love   him   –   he   knew   she   never   would.   a   marriage   of   convenience,   right? 

dorian   rubbed   his   brow   as   he   stepped   back   and   let   nesta   be   ‘mom’.    it   was   killing   him   inside   to   even   take   that   step   back.   the   wind   ruffled   his   dark   hair,   blowing   it   into   his   eyes   and   he   ran   a   hand   through   it.   there   was   some   sort   of   silent   conversation   between   his   daughter   and   nesta.   .   .   she   was   looking   at   her   rather   expectantly.   the   roll   of   nesta's   eyes   tell   more   than   what   was   obvious   there. 

his   dark,   trimmed   brows   shoot   up   as   he   looks   between   the   females. 

❝     auntie   feyre   painted   you   something?    that's   so   special!       ❞   if   nesta   didn't   want   him   to   come,   she   wouldn't   have   asked   –   at   least,   he   had   to   tell   himself   that.   right?   he   hadn't   been   to   her   house   in   a   little   while   .   .    at   least   not   as   a   guest.   mostly   for   a   pickup   or   stood   in   the   doorway   and   waited   for   their   baby.   they   had   wanted   gigi   to   have   a   normal   childhood   but   at   the   same   time,   it   was   almost   painful   for   dorian   to   spend   time   with   the   both   of   them.   he   did   it   for   gianna.   he   did   it   for   their   family.   he   always   would. 

if   he   came   home   with   them,   he'd   be   able   to   see   if   nesta   needed   anything   from   him   without   her   bruising   her   pride.   they   could   have   a   decent   conversation   for   more   than   three   to   ten   minutes. 

there are many impressive things about dorian. the way he is with gigi ranks highly among them. he has a way of speaking to her in a way that is engaging and exciting without dumbing anything down. he has a talent for appealing to people like that – a way of saying just the right thing, in just the right tone... perhaps that’s why he’s able to get through her own icy exterior so well. he draws out a little glimmer of her light on the now rare occasion that he’s nearby.

" it’s certainly something, you’ll see. " a hint of amusement glints in silver hues and she lowers herself to lift gigi. for just a moment there’s a pang in her chest. at five years old she’s already getting too tall to carry. it’s only a matter of time before the last time she holds her like this, bears her weight. she resolves to get into weight lifting to make it last as long as possible. long legs dangle awkwardly, and nesta lets out a small huff as she lifts her higher upon her hip.

" have you grown since i saw you last? " a smile tugs at her lips as she peers into her favourite face in the world; a blend of dorian’s and her own, flushed from the sun and perfectly unmarred by the sadness of the world. for as long as she lives, she plans to keep it that way. " your father must be feeding you magic beans, you’re like a bean stalk! " that pulls a laugh from her… the anticipated argument about how she’ll 'never eat beans' follows, and nesta nods as if to accommodate.

little does she know she regularly eats beans blended into sauces. as she continues to chatter, nesta shoots dorian a knowing look, and tilts her head to where she parked before venturing off in that direction and listening out for his footsteps behind her. as she walks she tries to remember the last time he made his way into her apartment. tries to remember if everything is in its place. her apartment is usually meticulously clean, but it’s small; easier to appear cluttered when compared to a mansion.

never allow anger to become you. words a long lost yet eternally wise woman had once spoken into her daughter's ear what felt as if a millenia ago. many phrases and advice the woman had once offered her. knowing the world her daughter was to grow in , the trials and tribulations that would follow her like a waiting asp soley for her title and bering of wings . . . she had never wanted to raise either of her children to be but lambs to slaughter. even more so her sole daughter. memories of times before the hearth , combs brushing through asteria's long onyx strands as stories wove into the fibers , was the reason for the voice in her ear.

the state of the cabin had fueled a deep rooted fire within. the reason she had been dispatched for hours past dinner. fingers numb from scrubbing paint from weather worn walls brushed against the now tattered trousers she had opted for over a gown as she moved through the house of wind. ( pity in the fact asteria had once loved these pants. ) not that she had claimed the house in any sort , it answered to nesta in such a way asteria held naught but respect towards. moonstone had become her haven. but exhausted wings left her little choice as to her pit stop.

lost in her own mind , tallying the tasks still to do to mend their mother's home , it should not have been a surprise to have her path near cut off by nesta herself. “   ohh . . . !   ” gathering herself , asteria pulls herself back into the moment at hand. pulling her body to the side to allow the other to pass. “   apologies. i was only here for a moment then i will be off.   ”

the phantom sound of swords slashing through the air still echo in nesta's ears as she makes her way through the house of wind. her muscles sing with the same ferocity, and she can feel every step of the routine she perfected as if it thrums in her veins. exhaustion wears on her very being – but it’s the only thing that keeps her from her thoughts. she’s discovered that depletion is the best tonic for her feelings of defeat.

surprise revives her features when she happens upon asteria in the quiet hallways. strangely, she isn’t surprised to see her there, but to recognise her own fatigue in the other female. but there’s something else beneath it… something that keeps her tethered to the spot even when the other makes way for her.

" don’t apologise. you can stay here for as long as you like. " if anything she is the one who has over stayed her welcome. nesta and the walls around her have a connection of the mind, or perhaps the spirit, but asteria’s life was woven with it long before she was made. long before she was born. "but if you do need some space, it’s certainly big enough. "

❛    you  𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆  power.    ❜       admiration  &*  interest  practically  set  asterin's  gaze  aglow  as  she  eyes  @duskdivined.          a  grin  curves  her  lips  ,  iron  canines  bared  with  no  malice.           lean  arms  cross  ,  then  she's  set  forward  ,  steps  carrying  her  in  a  prowl  around  the  fae.          ❛    𝒚𝒐𝒖  𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍  𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.   ❜         no  distaste  ;  reverance.        

" so do you. " the magical kind, of course. but it's clear that most of the other females' power lies in the way she holds herself, in the knowledge she wields in battle... in those teeth. morbid curiosity tugs at nesta and it's all she can do to keep her gaze from that deadly smile. the next words to emerge from her silver glinted mouth should be an insult, should make her flinch. but they don't... if only because the other seems to be more fascinated or impressed than disgusted.

❛   nesta ?!   ❜      it was the sound of aelin’s voice that eased the radiating ire that bloomed amongst the two males behind her at the sudden arrival of the woman before them.      well , the woman and the dark haired man beside her.      whereas she knew to inquire about the stranger alongside her friend , aelin could not withhold worry in regards to why she was here.      not when she , and the strange male beside her , looked as if they had run for their lives.      embers trickled within her at the realization   —   for a threat against any of her friends was one aelin took personally.      on this world or any other. 

nesta can barely hear her own thoughts over the sound of the harp... of the strange frequency that the strings emitted before parting the skies and allowing them to escape. but aelin’s voice, clear as a bell on a winter morning, makes it’s way to her. she’s exhausted. her legs are leaden from the effort to carry her this far, but at the sight of the queen of terrasen she almost breaks out into a run again. would, if not for the foreboding figures flanking her – their handsome faces like thunder.

the harp falls to her side and she reaches for azriel, giving his arm a momentary squeeze. it’s a silent request to remain calm, to keep pace with her… to follow her lead. the sense of anticipation in the air changes slightly when the distance between the two females is closed and even bloodied and bruised, even coated in sweat and debris, nesta cannot help but smile at her.

Lucien’s golden eye glinted, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that half-smile that always seemed to hover between mockery and intrigue. It seemed both sisters had a bit of bite to them, and Nesta's teeth felt a tad sharper than Feyre's. “A village boy, am I?” His tone was amused, soft, velvet-smooth, but threaded with something sharp beneath it. He didn’t seem insulted; if anything, the jab entertained him. The red of his hair caught the light as he inclined his head, studying her with that fox like patience.“Careful, my sweet human,” he murmured, his voice dropping low, a hint of laughter curling around each word. “You might find village boys know a thing or two you don’t.”

Lucien took a step towards her, chuckling at Nesta's next question. Lucien is careful as he slips behind her, his hand angling so his arm is across her waist. "Your lovely sister, is eating us out of house and home" There is a slight tone of affection in his voice, amused that her hauntiness has dissolved into care for Feyre. He wonders if she'd ever expect her mortal sister to manage to get herself over the wall, in hopes of stealing her back. He's almost certain Feyre will be shocked, but he wonders if Nesta will be more surprised to find her comfortable. That it was quite possible warm bath and fresh clothes would be provided, and she too— would have food available.

nesta inhales a deep breath through her nose, an attempt to quell the heat that begins to flood her neck and cheeks. no, he’s nothing like a village boy. at least she knows where she stands with those – knows that teeth and a sharp jab to the gut - lower - will unarm them if need be. as far as she can tell this lucien is fast on his feet; tough to rattle, but she has no doubt that she’ll keep trying – if only because it steadies her.

sweet human. her lips curl into a smile that is sweet. sickeningly so. " nothing i have any interest in learning. "

before she can recoil from his hands, his words stop her in her tracks. for a moment she’s elated to hear that feyre is well fed, that she hasn’t continued to waste away while their sister and father have practically gorged themselves on “aunt ripleigh’s” dime. but then she remembers the stories of fae food. she doesn’t have a moment to fret about them before she’s whisked away on the wind. just as she clutches lucien’s arm - with enough force to bruise a human - the world stills.

her empty stomach drops, head spinning as she gasps for the breath that she left behind. but she remains breathless. before her is the most luxurious manor she’s ever seen. nesta doesn’t need to see the furnishings to know it's filled to the brim with finery and frills. that it belongs to their wealthy benefactor. she looks from the manor to the male, disbelief etched into her features, fingertips clutching him tighter to keep herself from losing her balance.