#vvitchlings

 ❝   𝒅𝒐  𝒚𝒐𝒖  𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌  𝒊  𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔  ? -- @vvitchlings

brunettes  gaze  levels  on  the  witch  ,  jaw  ticking  just  a  bit  as  chaol  considers  his  next  words  carefully.        𝒉𝒆'𝒔  𝒏𝒐𝒕  𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓  𝒕𝒐  𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆  𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕.        he's  also  not  one  to  take  a  hit  to  his  pride  in  stride.        simply  standing  down  because  she  terrifies  him  is  not  an  option.        so  he  sucks  in  a  breath  &*  slowly  lets  it  out  of  his  nose  as  he  steels  his  will.      he  is  no  coward.      he  will  not  shrink.    ❛    𝒚𝒐𝒖  𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅  𝒏𝒐𝒕  𝒃𝒆  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕  𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈  𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅  𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏  𝒊'𝒗𝒆  𝒉𝒂𝒅  𝒕𝒐  𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅  𝒉𝒐𝒘  𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏  𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔.     i  can  confidently  assume  you  won't  be  the  last  ,  either  ,  if  i  know  my  luck  in  this  lifetime.  ❜        he  squares  his  shoulders  ,  gloved  hand  resting  on  the  pommel  of  his  sword.         he  wouldn't  stand  a  true  chance  fighting  her  –  but  the  grip  gives  him  confidence  nonetheless.         ❛   it  is  not  a  concern  whether  you  𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒊𝒕  or  not  –  working  together  is  imperative.     coordination  is  best  achieved  through  one  plan.     your  input  is  valued  ,  but  your  ability  to  take  an  order  is  vastly  more  important  than  your  pride  to  stand  your  ground against command on principle.    ❜

it  feels  strange  –  walking  without  a  limp.       elide  has  not  adjusted  to  the  freedom  of  movement  ;  the  near  total  absence  of  pain.         it  still  aches  in  her  hips  after  years  of  learning  a  poor  gait  to  compensate.        any  difference  from  that  throb  &*  shooting  pain  is  preferable  ,  but  this  is   …    near  blissful  in  comparison.         it  has  allowed  easier  travel  –  stronger  legs  to  grip  wyverns  sides  as  she  rode  behind  manon  for  hours  ,  enjoying  even  the  sting  of  her  eyes  against  thrashing  winds.        they've  spent  the  night  near  a  river  –  the  sound  of  rushing  water  helped  calm  her  nerves  ,  drowning  out  the  anxieties  that  came  with  too  long  spent  running  from  morath's  beasts  out  here  ,  listening  for  every  bump  in  the  night.        still  ,  not  a  fully  restful  sleep.       

when  dawn  came  ,  elide  slipped  from  their  meager  camp  on  silent  feet  – saw  to  her  morning  needs  ,   then  found  herself  distracted  by  a clearing  ,  lush  in  fresh  flowers  dripping  with  morning  dew.      it  is  an  entirely  mortal  thing  of  her  to  wander  into  the  field  just  to  admire  the  scent  &*  sight  ;  she  can  practically  hear  @vvitchlings  voice  in  her  ear  telling  her  it's  delaying  their  leaving  –  that  it  is  trivial.      &*  yet  it  is  the  immortal  beauty  that  draws  her  hand  to  pluck  a  plethora  of  flowers  into  a  bouquet.       fleeting  &*  bound  to  wilt  –  not  so  different  from  the  mortal  girl  holding  them.       no  less  beautiful.     

when  she  returns  to  camp  &*  finds  manon  awake  ,  a  crooked  grin  tugs  at  the  brunette's  lips.      while  her  mind  had  gone  to  manon  ,  it  hadn't  come  with  the  idea  of  presenting  the  flowers  to  her.       no  ,  it  went  to  her  most  favored  companion  –  the  wyverns  whose  head  pops  up  from  its  resting  place  to  eye  the  flowers  with  eagerness.       is  his  tail  wagging  ?        sure  feet  carry  elide  to  him  ,  extending  the  flowers.      a  satisfied  hum  leaves  before  a  laugh  ,  delight  curling  lips  skyward  as  the  overgrown  lap  dog  buries  his  face  in  the  flowers.       it  takes  considerable  determination  to  not  drop  them  to  the  ground  ,  given  his  force.      her  gaze  shifts  to  manon  ,  no  bit  of  that  joy  leaving  her  face.        ❛    do  you  suppose  he  likes  them  ?      i  can't  be  sure.  ❜

it wasn't the call she wanted to make. peace — all those who had lost more than any soul could harbor , they had finally begun to feel the embrace. but there was always a catalyst. a storm brewing even if the skies were of the bluest hue. only this time , it wasn't a storm that approached , but a cataclysm. the very threat that sat at a constant thought in the back of her mind. and it had finally arrived. not on their lands , which had been a small blessing to the lost gods. but a threat that carried with it so much weight , aelin knew there would be no living with herself if she ignored the outreach.

aelin looked to the white haired witch queen , heart thumping so heavily in her ears the world around her drowned out. how was she to ask this of manon who had lost her family against the very dangers reemerging once more ? it was why she readied herself for the no. no pushing , no questioning. it was not manon's debt to repay.

“   orcus and mantyx , erawan's brothers and maeve's husband . . .   ” words that once came easy to the fire queen fell to a struggle. “   i was called to aid a world that had aided me once before. i got word of their arrival on their lands.   ”

while her head remains gazing forward over the calming battlefield , the eyes of turquoise and gold softly shift to that of the witch queen beside her. “   living , and living well — it’s the greatest screw you that you can ever give them.   ” and the very minimum of what the witch clans that still lived , still loyal to the king's mission , deserved even in aelin's eye. “   and the best honor to those who mattered.   ”

@vvitchlings  *  ❝    have i told you how 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔 you look tonight  ?  

amusement  dances  in  the  fae  male's  eyes  as  he  grins  over  the  lip  of  his  wine  glass.        a  quick  sweep  up  &*  down  ,  then  he's  tilted  his  head  to  the  side.         ❛     you  know   …    i  might  take  offense  to  that  if  i  were  not  genuinely  amused.       i  don't  believe  i've  ever  been  called  anything  other  than  stunning.     certainly  not  𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔.    ❜       a  gentle  snicker  ,  then  he  takes  a  drink  from  his  glass.         ❛    i  imagine  you've  had  the  same  experience.       only  an  idiot  would  find  you  less  than  breathtaking.      hardly  a  compliment  so  much  as  fact.    ❜

THE SEA WAS A FRENZY OF SPLINTERED MASTS AND BURNING SAILS. smoke rolled low over the water, heavy — choking. above it all, he stood at the prow of the warship, boots braced against the tilt of the deck as another enemy vessel veered starboard. his magic was already extended, threaded through currents miles wide, feeling the battle in pressure shifts. heat, expanded. and there, just now: the sharp disturbance of wyvern wings cutting through the air above.

The Hapry and the Hare. As they understood it, it was a fable of a mother who was too smothering of her brood, refusing to let them experience the world. Somehow, it unlocked a deep, fathomless pain inside of Sypha, thinking of their own children. Their two daughters. Their son. They would've been too young to remember Sypha, barely toddlers a year apart. The Harpy kept the Hares too close while Sypha had abandoned their family to chase and destroy the succubus who had destroyed their family, their coven and sister witches, when they'd been young. The burn scars that effaced their entire body were proof of that wound, those that hadn't fully healed. And never would.