#flamesofday

@flamesofday  ▐   𝔭. ⊰    '    my  muse  tucks  a  loose  strand  of  hair  behind  your  muse’s  ear,  their  fingers  lingering  for  a  second  longer  than  necessary.

 there's  a  flush  on  the  heiresses  cheeks  before  she  can  stop  the  rise.      it  is  such  a  simple  act  –  she  is  sure  he's  seeking  this  exact  reaction.        fae  males  know  they  are  alluring  ;  lucien  in  particular.        a  pretty  face  &*  a  smarter  mouth.         a  dangerous  lure.          he  is  not  the  first  or  last  male  to  show  selene  interest  –  not  by  a  long  shot.         laying  claim  to  the  heiress  puts  anyone  in  direct  line  to  the  high  lord  ,  via  his  most  protected  &*  prized  jewel.     she is unclaimed -- tied to no mate or arranged marriage.     most  of  her  life  has  been  spent  at  the  illyrian  camp  ,  hidden  away  from  court  life  unless  necessary  for  gala's  such  as  this.        safer  there  ,  protected  by  soldiers.       the  court  of  nightmares  would  not  stain  her  there  for  some  time.       but  these  moments  amongst  the  allure  of  the  other  courts    …    well  ,  she  does  quite  enjoy  the  attention.       is  the  interest  in  her  or  her  father  ,  though  ?        that  is  always  the  question.      

long  lashes  flutter  as  she  looks  him  up  &*  down  ,  violet  gaze  lingering  on  that  crooked  grin  of  his.       they  stand  in the center  of  the  dance  floor  ,  twirling  pairs  all  paying  them  little  mind to the pair that has slowed to a halt.      to anyone , they might appear as two lovers caught up in a moment.  ❛    bold.   ❜        her  father  is  on  the  dais  mere  yards  away  ,  attention  ever  snagged  on  his  youngest  heir  –  &*  the  redhead  with  his  fingers  there  at  her  jawline.        she  tilts  her  head  towards  the  touch  ,  quirk  of  curious  brow  earned.       one  might  think  she  was  more  skilled  in  court  affairs  than  she  is  by  the  way  she  holds  his  stare  –  of  course  ,  the  red  blooming  on  her  cheeks  speaks  otherwise.        ❛     i  suppose  you  want  an  audience  with  my  father  ,  then ?   ❜ she does not know his intentions – can only presume the worst , even with this dreamy look in starlit eyes.

She wasn't avoiding him.

It just so happened that whenever Elain heard the male approaching with her newly superior hearing, she remembered something she needed to be doing right at that moment. And she was just so incredibly busy tending to her new garden that had been provided for her and learning all sorts of new recipes with the twins, or even helping those in the city, that her days were packed.

She was not avoiding him.

Her sisters accused her of such, of course. But she had simply chuckled nervously and waved them off, assuring them that no such thing was happening. Nesta had assured her she was fine if she was avoiding him, while Feyre had merely eyed her with a concerned expression and a sympathetic lift of her lips.

She was avoiding him.

She finally admitted it to herself, and while it didn't necessarily make her feel any better about the whole situation, she supposed it was a start. It wasn't that she wasn't curious about the male, about what fate had decided to weave into her life, because she most certainly was. But it was that she was frightened; if she took this step to accept this male into her life, bond or no, it would mean she was finally letting go of her past life, of her human life. Lucien was what stood at the end of the path of this new life of hers. Her avoidance stemmed simply from the fact that she was scared of letting go of the life she knew, even though deep down, she knew there was nothing left for her there.

And she was so incredibly curious about him, about the male the Cauldron had deemed fit for her. She saw the happiness and love that had found her sisters, saw the change in them for the better. So why couldn't she just let go and allow that happiness for herself? She knew it was merely her stubbornness over something so big being decided for her, but what if it really did work out?

❝ lucien! ❞ 

❛ You didn’t ask. So how am I to blame? ❜ For Elain! @flamesofday

"I didn't ask because I didn't know how," she'd been forced into the cauldron against her will, and when she came out not only had her life been turned upside down, but there was this faerie male, claiming to be her mate.

tears flow down her cheeks as she continues to tremble. arms are crossed tight to her chest as digits dig into her arms, nailed unknowingly digging so deeply into her arm she bleeds. her hair hasn't even been tamed yet for the day as she talks to the nypd, nodding her head as the police officers keep pointing to all of the mess — the break in. to her most prized and favorite place, her shop. books, pastries, all of her florals damaged. elain isn't a fool, she knew who exactly planned this. her ex. he must've somehow seen her social media post, her hard launch of her boyfriend lucien vanserra. speaking of, out the corner of her eye and the sea of the crowd she spots his fiery hair, and that face . . how could anyone not see him? ❝ please let him through, he's with me— ❞ as soon as his warm hands cup her cheeks, the rest of the few hours were a blur.

with swollen eyes elain finally looks at lucien as they sit upon his couch, elain was fully in his lap, his hand stroking her hair as she cried. the past month, it had been too much. she hadn't seen her boyfriend, he was so busy with work today had been the day they were supposed to meet for breakfast. ❝ i have missed you so much, i'm sorry this is what you come back too. ❞ she confesses to him, slipping her head under his chin, the top of her nose brushes against his neck. ❝ with all the new customers and new products, i was so overwhelmed i didn't notice he found it. this is so hard. ❞ elain had purposely used an alias name when she purchased the building. his next words, it’s okay to fall apart. i’m not going anywhere. they break her, just a little bit more.

The Great Rite. Where all seven High Lords came to the Spring Court to renew their connection with magic and amplify the power of their Court. And it was the first Rite since the magic that Amarantha had kept sealed beneath the mountain was freed, so she could only think it would be... well, it would be a lot. Feyre had been high fae for less than a year, and everything she knew about faerie rituals had been learned on the job alongside her companion, so the fact that the bonfire night was playing on her mind so much as the date drew nearer was something she knew she would have to share with him. Perhaps there was something telling her that the ritual needed to take place. How did you talk about a night of sexual debauchery for magical renewal without sounding like you were propositioning someone? What if you were somewhat propositioning someone? As the last of the lesser fae filtered out from the day's hearings, Feyre turned to the fae male where he sat nearby. He'd always been handsome even with the fox mask plastered to his features, but he was beautiful with the planes of his face properly exposed. Even the shimmering mechanical eye was obscenely beautiful beneath the scarring, and she let her gaze linger for a long moment before steeling her nerves and resting her hands down on the table.

❝ Tamlin's not going to be back for the Rite. ❞ Wow, Feyre, that was super tactful and definitely a nice subtle way to broach the subject. Whilst she admonished herself mentally, she swept her hair over her shoulder and leaned back into the chair where she sat, letting a slight frown mar her features and crease the freckles on her nose. ❝ One of the only things I know about Calanmai is that all seven High Lords come here to renew the magic of their courts. What happens when one of them is missing? Especially after-- ❞ She still couldn't quite acknowledge Amarantha's reign out loud, so instead she glanced over her shoulder in the general direction of the mountain, hoping Lucien would understand. ❝ What do we do? ❞