#shelleylore

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓, 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇. she was away from the suffocation of her father, she was free of the reminder of rhaenyra that seemed to linger even years after they lost full contact with one another. being here, trying to decide what to do with her future, meant she could be herself ... she could be some version that was digestable to who she was when home. no one knew her here, no one knew otto hightower, & because of this alicent had never felt so energetic in her life. so full of life, so free to do as she pleased. ( of course she knew she'd be monitored here. her father would not let go fully of her--he would still micromanage her, control the amount of money she had, & determine if she stays or not based on grades. yet, in this moment, none of it mattered. ) it was what put such a spring in her step, it was what had her nose upturned to the green trees & the warm sun. one moment she's peacefully enjoying getting a feel for her new university & the next she feels herself slam into another ! ❛ oh, fuck ! ❜ words come flying past lips, arms flying outward. ❛ are you alright !? ❜

“i’ve got all the time for it.” jeremy says easily; and he does. for hope he would make all the time. he worries that’s something she’s lacking, the knowledge that she has someone willing to listen and not judge. his lips twitched upwards slightly. “i know i don’t look my age, but i’ve been around long enough to know that nothing is all sunshine and rainbows. i can handle it.”

he waits, quietly, head tilted as he observes the young girl. he doubts she would appreciate it, but she really is just a pup and his heart aches for all the pain she’s already had to go through - for what? just the crime of being born? of being different? her words could be considered alarming, and jeremy was alarmed - but he doesn't let it show on his face. hope hasn't struck him as suicidal, at least not actively. but he worries how that could present itself.

his eyebrows crease ever so slightly, some part of him absently amused at elena almost lecturing him. he doesn't smile - he doesn't have much to smile about right now - but he lets the faint amusement pass through him. besides, she is right. this is serious. (and he is taking this matter very seriously.)

as jeremy watches her, he reaches out with his uninjured arm to curl his fingers around her hands, gently squeezing it as if to remind her that he is here, he is alive, he is solid, they have not lost him. he IS their alpha; and it is HIS JOB to protect them; his job to protect the pack. and he is failing at that. he shuts his eyes for a moment - the exhaustion (and blood-loss and pain and grief) weighs heavy on him but he can't let himself rest yet; and he could see petes death as if he had been there; just as he had felt it the moment it happened. he opened his eyes again and looked at elena.

although her words are laced with sarcasm nesta looks bryce up and down as if she’s considering the question seriously. as if she has the time to waste on the princess’ games. despite herself, she can’t help but like her – can’t help but trust her in the face of her talent for pulling the rug from beneath her feet. it’s clear that her people are advanced, and that she herself seems to be two steps ahead of the rest of them. it’s why she sought her out, in the hopes she might share the wealth of her knowledge. 

"you look like somebody who knows a lot. and i know that you do. so don’t play the fool, it does not suit. the walking dead, what does that mean to you?" to nesta, it’s a strange comment from elain. one that stopped her in her tracks. one that she has tried and failed to make sense of for weeks now. beyond it conjuring up images of what the mask can do… beyond it leading her thoughts back to the female who found her way to the night court when she’d asked to go to hel, she doesn't know what it could mean. but something tells her it's important.

"after what i did for you," putting her neck on the line as if for sport. "the least you could do is give me a clue. just one."

"you have nothing to be sorry for. nothing in the world." as far as nesta is concerned the older woman has nothing in the universe to be sorry for. she’s never met a kinder soul; never felt as safe as she does in her presence. even if she did have something to be sorry for, she knows she’d forgive ember any sin. perhaps she’d hold less hurt about her own mother if she’d ever thought to hold her like this.

reluctantly she pulls away from her embrace, and the warmth in her chest dissipates ever so slightly even as she peers into chestnut hues for signs of concern. so much time has passed - months - and yet she has thought of the compassionate stranger and her cunning daughter most days since. she has no doubt missed more than the other could remember to relay, but the made fae asks anyway. "have you been okay? what happened?"

meme, accepting.

they have certainly had their hardships, between curses and rediscovering themselves. and david would do it all over again if it meant snow was his in every life time they existed. he was a hopeless romantic, this was apparent. it was why he had such a hard time working with his twin brother's father. he was the polar opposite of james and the king. he craved love, he was full of hope and trusting of other's. he had his mom to make his edges soft where james had to deal with their father who only sharpened to the point of arrogance and that was his downfall.

palm gently glides against snow's cheek as he pulled her in closer. a slight bend at waist so he's able to press forehead against hers, not breaking eye contact as a smile pulled at corners of his mouth. tip of nose brushes against hers momentarily, small breath of air sucked in as he nodded slowly.