#but ... yeah

Mama only left us with two pieces of jewelry: A necklace and a lucky charm. There won't ever be a third piece.

and it's the one thing he values most in the world. more than wealth or luck or life, even. aventurine would trade the universe for his family. and yet, even though everything else about him works in threes, he only has two pieces of his mother's jewelry -- only two pieces by which to remember the only people that have ever really loved him. it symbolizes how his family's absence is a gaping wound in his life, one that he can never fill no matter how much wealth he accumulates. it means that his life will always feel broken and incomplete and wrong, and he knows this. he's aware of the irony of it all, because he points out that there won't ever be a third piece. he realizes what he lacks, what he can never get back, what he'll continue to miss for the rest of his life.

I’m going to get in trouble if I answer this honestly because frankly I list about 95% of the characters who actually add diversity to ‘Throne of Glass’ and when I realized that was the list I was like “OK not naming anyone”.

My issue with ToG is- and I’ve always said this- that there are too damn many characters treated as these important features for a chapter or two who have such a small impact on the story as a whole that you could just delete them without it even wrinkling the fabric.

All of ToD could be unfurled into a standalone series; The Thirteen and Dorian could be a standalone series; and either pick Maeve or Erawan because having them both as “the big bad” just felt... unfocused?

IDK, I’m not shy about my issues with Throne of Glass. 

As for ACOTAR... Elain and Varian could be removed from the series with little to no disruption, yet I still love writing them~!!

Hi I’m also actual trash. I just... I love them. And them getting to be soft together, okay?

---

Shoulder to shoulder, they sat in the small room, silence hanging round them like a shroud. Soft breathing echoed through the space, inhale, exhale, an endless cycle that left them both stuck for words. Charley looked at the screws, pins and gears, all so very small, spread out on the desk across the room. A mess of metal and papers, a miniature whirlwind that had continually grown larger over the months that Rose had been here. 

It had been fun at first, like an adventure in her backyard, climbing trees and making her mother angry when she was a child. But there was a wanderlust in them both, Charley realized, and London wasn’t going to hold either of them long. 

This decade wouldn’t hold Rose, she realized too, considering the little device Rose had been so desperately trying to rebuild as they’d wandered and gotten into all sorts of trouble. 

Rose sighed, pushing herself off the bed to pace, jarring the stillness of the room. The action brought Charley back to herself, out of the bloom of memories.

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” Rose said, leaning her head against the wall.

“Don’t do it again.” There was a note of sadness beneath the statement, peeking out. 

“I -” Rose stopped, and turned, sliding down the wall to gather her knees against her chest. “I’ll try.”

They sat there watching each other, Charley taking in the way Rose curled her arms around her knees, the fabric of her skirt stretched over the curve tightly. The frustration of the hours previous, the way Rose had locked herself away after what had been a perfectly wonderful weekend sank in. The strange girl, fallen out of time, was hiding again.

The layer of annoyance began to melt, tenderness and fondness overlaying it.

“My grandmother told me once that no one has a heart of stone.” Rose looked up from her place on the ground, her gaze sad, tired and confused. Charley sighed, moved to sit on the floor beside Rose and spoke again. “I know you’ve been trying to find a way home-”

“That’s the problem,” Rose said, words muffled as she bowed her head over her knees. 

Charley frowned, confusing drawing her brow down.

“What?”

“I don’t -” Rose sighed, turning her head to look at Charley, eyes so pained and earnest it was almost breathtaking. “I should want to go.”

“Of course you do. Look at how hard you’ve been working!” Charley gestured at the desk in the corner

“I don’t. That’s the problem. I need to fix the cannon - so I can stop watching the sky waiting for the stars to go out because I -” 

Rose abruptly fell silent, looking down to where she’d threaded their fingers together. Charley felt her breath hitch.

“Because you?”

Rose shook her head mutely, staring at their entwined hands before exhaling raggedly. She seemed in disbelief of the reality of the moment, a reversal from what was usual, since she’d fallen here.

Suddenly Rose laughed, not a joyous laugh, but one of disbelief. “Fuck,” she breathed, and Charley couldn’t help the way her brows jumped upward in surprise. Rose didn’t seem to notice, instead whispering to herself and then actually giggling. “I’ve become him!”

Charley’s confusion returned full force at the statement, but Rose didn’t give her the chance to ask. Instead, the hand that wasn’t holding her own was cupping her cheek and Rose’s lips were on hers. 

It wasn’t a particularly elegant kiss; more a desperate mashing of mouths while Rose struggled to contain the laughter that was trying to escape her now as they tried to communicate something words simply couldn’t. A moment passed as Rose’s laughter faded, and it gentled into the kind of soft pressure Charley remembered from stolen kisses when she was younger. They stayed like that for a long time, hands twined, side-by-side, leaning into each other, saying nothing and yet everything, with actions instead of words.