#manupropria

a  figment  of  her  imagination  -  at  least  she  had  deemed  it  as  such  the  first  time  after  bonding  thoirt,  when  she  felt  her  deceased  older  brother's  presence.  their  teenage  years  were  spent  apart,  and  it  hadn't  been  uncommon  for  the  youngest  mairi  to  imagine @manupropria  right  by  her  side.  had  missed  him  dearly,  and  despite  her  lack  of  training  -  prohibited  by  her  foster  family  when  riorson  and  tavis  had  flourished  at  the  quadrant,  she  had  crossed  the  parapet  knowing  he  wouldn't  be  there  to  greet  her  like  she  had  dreamt  off.  chanting  his  name  as  she  completed  the  gauntlet,  bruised  and  battered,  but  she  had  made  it  -  no  where  near  his  record  time.  she  wasn't  half  the  rider  liam  had  been,  but  a  rider  nonetheless.  envelope  rests  heavily  against  her  rapidly  beating  heart,  aaric's  urgent  voice  sending  her  into  a  battle  she  wasn't  prepared  for.  like  a  delicate  veil  has  been  lifted,  broader  than  she  remembers,  his  gentle  tone  -  a  breathy  sob  tearing  at  her  throat,       ❝ liam...  ❞       surely  malek  must  have  sent  him,  perhaps  guiding  her  to  her  death  -  back  to  him.

__________🏹      FRUSTRATION CLEARLY PIERCES HER VOICE AS SHE LEANS BACK IN THE CHAIR. though she is a tad too thin, the night court dress brings out the color of her eyes, her hair. makes her look more alive than the shell she had been not even a few weeks ago at the failed wedding. she shoves the thought to the side, locking it behind the shield he's so adamently told her to keep in place. ❛    if you're going to force me to read, you could at least give me something a bit more interesting.    ❜

"I should have thrown my other shoe at you-- perhaps it would have deterred you from calling in our barge" Feyre wasn't quite sulking, but she wasn't exactly her most cheerful self in the moment. So much had happened both during and after under the mountain-- she hadn't been granted much time to process everything. One thing she was sure of was Rhysand was smarter than she had initially thought and slightly less evil than she had been led to believe.

against the roaring echo of victory echoing throughout orynth , aelin found herself far from the celebrations.      goodbyes to friends and allies had been plentiful   (   if not emotionally taxing in ways she’d yet experienced prior ,   )   but there was one she would not be able to rightfully rest without.      not that she had expected a heartfelt goodbye from the white haired witch queen , but the loss still reverberating in those golden eyes spoke without a voice.      even if manon attempted eased words.      

it wasn’t deliberate   —   the way in which the flame encased her still tightly fisted hand now raised between sam and herself.      ten years the magic that once flowed through her veins had gone dormant , vanished as the continent went dark.      a decade of adapting and existing as nothing more than an everyday human.      thoughts of her powers began to dwindle as the years passed and her focus honed in on her newfound occupation , but never fully dissolved.      but what the blonde assassin had not taken into account is the possibility that those said powers , of the past she thought was left in the ash of terrasen , would one day return.      nor did she take into account that fleeing from erilea in a whole would do just that.