A Curly's Journal

A little one-shot of Rhys saving Feyre from her nightmare after she meets the Night Court squad for the first time in ACOMAF. So happy to be writing fic again after a long week off! I take zero credit for the dialogue and ideas behind this scene. Those belong 100% to Sarah J. Maas.

Pebbles

I awoke with a jolt, a sort of frenzy shooting through my veins like flying through wind in a storm built on emotions all clamoring over one another for supremacy until at long last cold, miserable agony claimed victory. It was worse than fear. It was terror. And it was precisely how Feyre was feeling in that exact moment.

Feyre.

This is a possible easter egg for ACOMAF3. You may have to read it five times. 

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It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No – not sparkling, but effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. –pg 114, ACOTAR

Whenever Feyre needs solace because she is the High Lady of the Night:

In her cell, “If I stared at the ceiling long enough, it became the vast expanse of the starry night sky.” –pg 373, ACOTAR

Facing the bogge, “A starry, unclouded night sky, peaceful and glittering and endless.” –pg 90, ACOTAR

Feyre’s features:

Hands, “Elain’s teacup rattle in its saucer as she noticed my ears. My longer, slender hands – the face that was undeniably Fae.” –pg 246, ACOMAF

Glow, “His smile faded into something awed, something reverent, and I reached out to cup his face in my hands – to find my skin glowing.” –pg 537, ACOMAF

Feyre’s rebirth:

“And then it was dark, a different sort of dark then this place.” –pg 197, ACOMAF

“Everything was black, and warm – and thick.” –pg 407, ACOTAR

“There was light then. Like swimming through sparkling wine –“ –pg 198, ACOMAF

“The golden light grew, and darkness became like sparkling wine, easier to swim through, the bubbles fizzing around me…“ –pg 407, ACOTAR

Feyre’s name:

“An old name – from our earlier dialects.” –pg 313, ACOTAR

The Cauldron:

“The Cauldron was absence and presence. Darkness and … whatever darkness had come from.” –pg 585, ACOMAF

“How the Cauldron purrs in your presence.” –pg 597, ACOMAF

The Book:

Is written in an older language, one could argue ancient; 

“I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” –pg 360

But speaks in riddles:

Like calls to Like. Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade – that is the cycle. Like calls to like. –pg 358, ACOMAF

Life and death and rebirth, Sun and moon and dark, Rot and bloom and bones. Hello sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me. –pg 555, ACOMAF

Sweet tongued liar, lady of many faces – Yes you see now, princess of carrion – you see what you must do…. –pg 586, ACOMAF

Feyre, will be the golden hands to that will forge a new cycle, the rebirth of Prythian!

Cliff Notes version:

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No – not sparkling, but effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. –pg 114, ACOTAR

“The Cauldron was absence and presence. Darkness and … whatever darkness had come from.”

“glowing.”

“slender hands.”

“A starry…night sky … endless.”

“The golden light grew … the bubbles fizzing”

The symbols in the mural are from the Book, the Book that answers to Feyre.

—

You know, I think I maybe going crazy. 

As promised @propshophannah I have begun posting my little Easter eggs and theories

Please, please discuss this with me :)

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Foreshadowing (Easter Eggs):

The heart is the toughest part of the body. Tenderness is in the hands.

(from Carolyn Forché's The Country Between Us)

Hands are unbearably beautiful. They hold on to things. They let things go.

- Mary Reufle -

Take my hands in your hands, teach me to remember, teach me not to remember.

(from H.D.'s piece, "Helen in Egypt")

My hands wanted to touch your hands because we had hands.

(from Frank Bidart's poem, In the Western Light)

We held hands.

I was wondering what it would be like to have a home of your own where you could come and go, where people would be welcome, where you would never be frightened again.

-Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal

Hinduism:  Dasha-Mahavidyas

do you think they'll let you take dates? Desi parents could never

i can only imagine an Indian high school ‘prom’ to be a formal party where all the teachers are monitoring you and have different party rooms for the girls and boys lmao.

Paan mei pudeena dekha

Naak ka nageena dekha

Chikni chameli dekhi

Chikna kameena dekha

Chaand ne cheater hoke cheat kiya toh

“If you don’t like it, just don’t watch it.”

That’s not the point.