#halfbeasts

    it’s been a while since he’s interrupted her at her studio,  he does not come empty handed as he slips in -- hoping not to disturb her if she be in the throes of creative fervor.  there is an absurd amount of paperwork and business to properly running a court,  one he has spent the entire day sorting out and attempting to tackle.  supposedly he’s gotten through a third of what he needed to accomplish,  but the desire to see his wife drives him from the seclusion and productivity of his office and to the sanctum of his mate. 

her head throbbed. she’d made the drop into immortality only a mere minutes ago, in the hopes of saving crescent city but –– she was nowhere near it. where was she?  

dazed, she glanced about until a part in the crowd appeared. and a woman, a fae woman, clothed in an intricate dress of deepest blue appeared, a crown of stars on her head. bryce pushed herself up, immediately on guard. just in case. danika’s sword was still slung across her back, thank the gods. but her stomach roiled. before the woman could say anything, bryce bent over and promptly threw up her lunch. 

a fucking brilliant way to make an entrance. 

“Well, if we were in Hell, their power would be a little more muted,” Lilith pointed out drily. Her own powers were as strong in the mortal realm as they were in Pandemonium, but none of the Pagans had a home in Hell, or even an anchor; inevitably, their power would be waned. Ironically, rock bottom right now might just be lower than Hell itself.

“When I heard about the arrival of the Pagans, I was told that they were pre-witches, magic users from a time outside of our...former Dark Lord” She continued, glancing in the direction of the....aged-looking carnival. “But what you really have isn’t a coven; it’s a collection of Gods. Smaller than usual, perhaps....but still Gods. And as a general rule...they’re not defeated so easily”

"She stepped out for a moment." As Amren was prone to do, and who was he to argue? He'd liked her, from her first flaming crash into the world like a little demi-god of chaos, and he had spoken for her during a very tense meeting in which her fate was discussed; arguing that if Thelonious was to strike her down, it would speak to insecurity on his part. It had worked, and she had been allowed to run riot; maintaining her place as one of his favoured beings.

In her tower living room, he sat-- unnaturally massive, sleek black dog sitting flat on the floor at his feet and still nearly reaching his eye level; like a black hole in the room, despite sticking to the human template of appearance, one of the oldest of the old gods and radiating such silently as an undercurrent.

       𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐃  𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐀  𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒  ,  face  tattered  and  marred  ,  she’d    become  her  own  form  of  ruination  deeply  rooted  in  the  depths  of  all  that  she  could  ever  understand  .  genya  sighs  ,  a  sweet  sound  that  feels  almost  too  light  for  the  conversation  at  hand  ,  too  earnest  as  a  hand  brushes  against  the  patch  covering  her  eye  .  ❛      oh  ,  i’ve  had  my  moments     ❜    she  speaks  this  almost  as  if  it  is  some  kind  of  joke  ,  as  if  looking  back  on  it  ;  things  could  only  go  up  and  there  is  no  reason  to  bury  deep  in  the  throes  of  the  downtrodden  when  there  is  a  fight  before  them  ,  ❛        but  i’ve  decided  that  there  is  something  to  be  made  of  everything  feyre  ,  you  just  have  to  know  where  to  look     ❜

@halfbeasts​ // continued

    little women sentence prompts - for @halfbeasts

  violet eyes slip to watch her,  they are alone now -- secluded away in a private world of their own.  they will be undisturbed.  for whatever path this night may take.  the corner of his mouths lifts in a lilting smile,  ‘  you do not seem the type to dream of wedding dresses and floral arrangements...  ‘  he took a step towards her,  hand reaching for hers.  fingers brushing over the tattoos on her arm --  ‘  i do not think i dared to hope for one.  but even if i had -- i could have never imagined i would be so fortunate as to have dreamed of you. ‘

  the words may seem flowery and ostentatious,  but they are meant truthfully enough.  even more than the fifty long years spent under the mountain, he had never thought that he would truly find a mate,  despite the hopes his mother had sought to give him.  a shuddering breath,  bringing their joined hands to his lips as a kiss is brushed featherlight over the back of her hand. 

       ‘  a -- mates bond is more than even marriage.  marriage is the choice i gladly make of you.  and you i --.  but a mating bond is, elemental to the very fabric of who we are,  the threads the stars and universe bound us with -- found that who was our souls match -- and tied the threads that would guide us to each other.  no matter how tangled the path would seem.  ‘   

   he will never forget the feeling when he’d seen her first that spring night -- or when he’d felt her die -- or when the lords gave her life again,  and she went to another’s arms.  knowing she was his mate had done nothing to clarify the complex feelings he had,  elemental though it may be,  it didn’t mean it was simple.