erisweekofficial

[erisweekofficial]

It's time to announce a new project for ErisWeek 2025!

Because I had so much fun last year I'm doing another community project for Eris Week this year:

What even is a smoke hound? Is it a dog? Is it smoke in the form of a hound? Is it a specific kind of dog? Do they share a face with your own beloved pet? You decide!

You can share what you think Eris' smoke hounds look like via the form below and I will draw a sketch of them to publish during Eris Week. Go nuts!

Here's the form - my dms are also always open for pet pictures and puppy profiles!

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young Lucien with big brother Eris in the Autumn Court forests

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What do you guys think Lucien called Eris when he was a kid?

I low key think Eris would’ve called Lucien “Lu” because that’s what LoA nicknamed him

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Looking for something to decorate my lap when I inherit the throne.

Finally, a dating app for the rest of us! Welcome to UNHINGE! The most exclusive dating app you've never heard of! Invitation only, please send your application to: dacauldron@highlordsandhothumansonly.org (not a real email)

Tell us what first message YOU'D send to capture his attention (and hopefully his heart!), and check out the rest of our series through the week!

Art by @velidewrites

Check under the cut for the full art!

[erisweekofficial]

The Healer Moodboard

A Night Court Healer. The Heir to Autumn, fated mates separated by duty and courts.

Story: The Healer - not complete

Schedule: Updated every Tuesday at 7:00 PM (Sydney, Australia time)

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Night Court Healer f!reader

Mood: Strangers with a bond they didn’t ask for, restraint that cracks at the edges, soft hands on a cruel man

Palette: Burnt amber, blood red, velvet black, moonlight silver

Scents: Firewood, cedar smoke, chamomile, lavender

Song: Control by Halsey, Wicked Games by The Weeknd

“She’s Night Court. He’s fire and danger. But the bond doesn’t care about politics, only proximity.”

“He was raised to ruin fae like her. Gentle. Loyal. Good. Night Court. Yet he’s the one on his knees.”

Note: These images have been sourced from Pinterest. They may be AI-generated or digitally modified.

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Day 49 - Food for the Worms (Part III)

Read on Ao3 :)

Summary: What had it been like for Eris, Under the Mountain? What games had he played—what had he endured?

Note: the dynamics of the vanserra family will always be SO interesting to me! i’m using the same brothers from one of my elucien fics for this one, and i’m looking forward to developing them a little more as characters :) thank you for reading <3

The throne room stank.

Wet stone and bitter fear. Even the roses, white as bone and enchanted to bloom at Amarantha’s feet for Calanmai, couldn’t cover it. 

Eris stood by his mother, his brothers just as always a step behind. Draped in rust, smoke clinging to the velvet of his jacket, he tugged on one of the small golden hoops along the arch of his ear. 

Forty-nine days. 

That’s how long Eris had been Under the Mountain. He counted it with the same precision he used to lace the ties at his throat. There was, he found, no other way to keep track of the time.

A male from the Day Court was dragged forward, barely grown, just a boy. The crowd curved around him as he stumbled, a predictable tide.

The guards that held him up could not be bothered to care, moving as though they had been a part of the same show before. 

“He tried to run,” someone whispered, their voice carrying as everyone watched. 

“A fool, then,” said Ronan, voice rough as gravel. He drank deeply from the glass of wine he had filled more times than Eris could keep track of. His scarred hand looked unfit around the small object, better equipped for long-swords and battle axes. 

“But not a coward,” Eris answered despite not being entirely certain who his brother was speaking to. 

To his right, Callum watched closely, dark brows drawn. “He’s looking for a weapon.”

“He’ll lunge,” Felix declared. “He knows he’s dead, he might as well.” He looked over the crowd, amber eyes scanning grim faces. 

Ronan snorted inelegantly into his glass. “I hope he goes for her neck.” 

None of them smiled, not when everyone had their attention turned elsewhere. 

Their father shook his head, his wine looked like blood in the low faelight, his drink untouched. It was strange, Eris thought, to see him without the golden crown of Autumn on his chestnut coloured hair. 

Beron kept his arm around his wife, and she said nothing at all as she clung to his sleeve. “Another performance for our benefit,” he muttered, disgust lining the statement. 

The Lady of Autumn hummed a low sound in agreement. 

Eris watched as the boy was shoved to his knees.

One of the guards lifted a crescent-blade axe as the new High Lord of Day pushed his way through the crowd. Eris could just barely see him above the sea of unknown courtiers, Helion Spell-Cleaver already looked defeated. 

Amarantha lounged on her throne, unbothered, draped in Night Court black. Her sharp nails tapped the stone of her armrest. 

Once, twice, three times. 

Eris could have winced. 

Amarantha grinned, addressing her audience. “This little creature tried to dig his way out of the latrines. Can you imagine the desperation?” She sighed, as if the failed attempt at escape saddened her. “Anything to say?” she asked, voice dripping with false sweetness.

She rose from her throne, slow as a cat stretching in the sun.

The boy looked up. Jaw clenched and eyes shining, there was something in the angry set of his brow that reminded Eris of Lucien. 

The boy spat at Amarantha’s slippered feet. 

A pause.

Then her laughter, sharp and shrill, rose above the murmurs of those around her. 

“Charming,” she purred. “Do it slowly.”

The guards moved in. The boy tensed.

That was when Eris saw her.

Princess Cresseida.

He had met her briefly in Adriata years before. She stood across the floor, beside Tarquin, the new High Lord of Summer. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Her eyes were deep brown, wide and unblinking. The smallest of braids framed her face, the exact colour of sea-foam, falling to her waist and looking pretty as a painting against the teal of her dress. 

Lovely. 

Eris was reminded of the ocean, calm on the surface and still deep enough to drown in. 

Her hands were clenched fists at her sides, not from fear but from restraint.

Tarquin’s hand was at her back. A silent anchor.

Eris turned his gaze back to the prisoner as the axe began to rise.

One, two, three steps. 

That’s how far the boy got, how far the guards allowed him to go. He lunged, fast and wild, broken glass flashing in his hand.

Then the axe came down.

The sound it made was wet. Final.

No one moved.

Not at first.

Amarantha sighed. “Pity. I thought he’d last longer.”

The blood spread slowly, a lazy wave. 

And across the room, Cresseida’s hands opened. Her fingers trembled, like reeds in a gentle wind.

Her gaze lifted. Found his.

Eris held it. 

One breath.

“I can never bring myself to watch,” Callum mumbled from beside him, dragging his attention away from the princess.

“No,” Eris said. “You never could.” A compliment, nearly envious of the fact. Callum should have been a healer, like their grandmother in Xian. It made Callum the best of them, Eris thought, and it was a twisted sense of humour on fate’s part that he looked most like their father. 

Callum ran his fingers through the copper strands of his hair, in the sunlight it might have looked coin-bright against his shoulders. 

Felix said nothing, turning so that he no longer faced Amarantha. He inched closer to Ronan, who was looking at his empty wine glass with a frown. 

Eris watched as his father adjusted the collar of his evergreen jacket, golden rings flashing. “This was tedious,” Beron said, a scowl cutting across his features. “Come. We’re done here.”

The Lady of Autumn followed him, glancing at the boy’s severed head before she tucked herself against her husband’s side. Her footsteps didn’t echo, her skirts dragged behind her like fallen leaves.

Eris lingered a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of the Summer Court one final time. 

“Why do they keep trying to run?” Felix asked no one in particular, an annoyed edge to the question. 

Eris did not respond, his mind elsewhere. 

He thought of the boy. Of the blood. Of Cresseida’s stillness, how she held herself like something fragile she refused to let break.

He thought of her hands, musician’s hands.

Then he turned, and followed the High Lord of Autumn into the dark, knowing his brothers would do the same. 

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art by @krem-does-stuff

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Spirit Meets the Bones [ Masterlist ]

How’s one to know? I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bones In a faith-forgotten land In from the snow Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow Tarnished but so grand

- Eris and Iris. Son of a high lord. Daughter of a fiend.

An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the fight, the two are more alike than they’d like to be. Follow Eris and Iris as they navigate a relationship that neither of them asked for, the politics that dictate so much of their lives, and what happens when feelings start to find their way between them. / Tropes to expect: arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, dislike to love, slow burn. / Read on AO3

Eris x Iris inspiration | SMTB inspiration | Iris | playlists | Art | Asks | Headcanons |  Family List | Vanserra Brothers | Moodboards

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven 

Chapter Twelve 

Bonus Scene 

Chapter Thirteen 

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen 

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Bonus Scene

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Epilogue ~

Eiris Prompt - Iris on her cycle. 

Snippets

Drawing Up the Plans - Eiris Valentine’s Day Modern AU

Roots in My Dreamland [ Eris Week Day 1 ]

Smokehounds & Surprises [ Eris Week Day 4 ]

In the Shadows of War [ Eris Week Day 5 ]

Moth to a Flame [ Eris Week Day 6 ]

✨SJM Writing Masterlist

***All my writing belongs to me with a disclaimer that any character that isn’t an original character belongs to their authors. Do not copy or claim my work as your own. Do not feed my work into AI or third-party platforms. Do not translate my writing without my permission. I do not consent for my work to be reposted anywhere.

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art by @krem-does-stuff

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Fire and Ice | Eris Vanserra | Series Masterlist

Pairing - Eris Vanserra x reader

Summary - Kallias's sister—the Winter Court's quiet heart. Sharp, composed, untouchable. She was born of frost and stars, raised in a palace of ice and silence after war stole too much too soon. All she has left is her brother. Her court. Her restraint.

Then there's him—Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Court. Arrogant, unreadable, fire-forged and court-polished. A male everyone warns her about. A male who's burned every bridge handed to him... except the one that leads to her.

Words fly like blades between them, and sparks fly faster. Something begins. Something neither of them dares name.

Maybe opposites don't destroy each other. Maybe they were just waiting to finally meet.

Tags - forbidden love, he falls first (and hard), secret relationship, mutual pining, fire and ice dynamics 

Contents -

❆ One

❆ Two

❆ Three

❆ Four

❆ Five

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

First Eris fic! Naturally, there's some fiery and icy vibes going on the inspo came from an old one-shot I wrote way back when that fits Eris like a glove :)

This one's on the shorter side, but I've got a nice idea for another Eris story. I've even got two parts already written, I just need to figure out where to take it next. Stay tuned for that!

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

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some of these Hound names are 😂😂😂

art by @krem-does-stuff

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“Why did you leave Mor in the woods that day?” It was the question that would always remain. “Was it just to impress your father?”

Eris barked a laugh, harsh and empty. “Why does it still matter to all of you so much?”

“Because she's my sister, and I love her.”

“I didn't realize Illyrians were in the habit of fucking their sisters.”

—A Court of Silver Flames

Eris👏Slayserra👏 here to ruin Cassian’s day and look great doing it

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art by @krem-does-stuff

🔥 Support Your Favorite Eris Creators! 🔥

Fill out this form to shower your favorite creators with love! The mod team will ensure your note is shared with the creator and the wider Eris community! Note: The form does NOT collect your email.

Guidelines:

Creation type does not matter: Art, moodboards, headcanons, playlists, poetry, writing, etc all count. We want everyone to feel loved! 🥰

Submit as many notes as you want! There is no limit to submissions.

The form will be open indefinitely, but go ahead and submit now so we can share with the community!

Need ideas on what to say?

A simple "I appreciate you!" goes a long way

Is there a particular fic you love? A moodboard that inspires you? Art that makes you go 😈🥹🥵😂😭? Share that and tell the creator why.

Has the creator done something kind in the community lately? Tell them how much it meant to you.

Submit a limerick if that's your style.

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Azris art for an art challenge!

Eris is some sort of amalgamation between a doctor, mad scientist, and engineer (I can't decide which. But honestly, he probably has the qualifications for all of them ;))

Eris is the one who made/created Az, a living, feeling, thinking robot. It's his life's work, and it's nearly complete!!

Maybe I'll write a more... full story of this for Eris week ^^

Anyways, hope y'all are having a good day/night! 💛💛💛

[erisweekofficial]

The traveler

When Eris Vanserra finally finds his mate

warnings: mentions of beron (ew); not proofread

Eris Vanserra always had a plan. First: Overthrow his father, avenging his mother and brothers for all the suffering Beron caused. Second: becoming the High Lord. Third: be completely different from Beron.

A mate wasn’t in this list. In fact, Eris never wanted one. Not after knowing what his own father was capable to do with his mother, Lucien’s lover, his bothers and him. The hidden scars on his back were proof of the evil that lived inside of that male. Beron was a monster with no limits, completely paranoid with the thought of a bethayal. He never spared his own children.

The worst part was to think, that even despising Beron in secret, Eris was still his favorite son somehow. So Eris kept playing his part. While he was attending to Beron’s stupid events and dinners, pretending to be a mirror of that monster, he also made alliances with the Night Court, formed a trustful and reliable network of spies, gathered all the harmful information of Beron and waited for the right time to destroy him.

That was until he saw her for the first time. His mate. The felt it right away, like a magnet pulling him into the gravitational field.

That was the first time Eris doubted his own plan and himself.

He saw her during the time of the High Lord Meeting, at a random walk at the Dawn Court. She was reading a book at the bench, while the wind swung a few strands of hair to her face, making her to pull the stubborn strands behind her point ears.

Eris watched her, fascinated with her beauty and with the feeling that filled all his soul. But at the same time, he couldn’t allow himself to approach her, not when his father was so close. He couldn’t put her in risk like that. The most he allowed himself to do was to observe her, day after day, while the meeting lasted. Then, he ended up putting some of his most trusted spies to find out who she was, scared he would never see her ever again.

— A traveler — The spy said during a visit at night — She doesn't seems to belong to a court and will board a ship towards human lands tomorrow.

— Human lands? — Eris asked, surprised — No fae is welcome there. Why she would do that?

— I fear I can’t answer that question. It confuses me as well.

Eris got silent for a couple seconds. All he wanted to do was to go with her in that ship, discover her reasons, her story and every single detail. But Wei’s knew he couldn’t be that selfish and put his desires above his mate’s safety.

— Make sure she’s safe throughout the trip, regardless of how long it lasts. — Eris finally said, feeling his heart ache inside his chest.

— May I ask why this female is so important? — The spy asked, afraid of Eris' reaction to the question. The older Vanserra always thought that the spy was very curious for his own good, but knew he was reliable at least.

— You may not. — Eris said with a cold tone — Fulfill your mission without questions and you will be rewarded for it.

Months have passed. The spy forwarded coded messages to Eris from time to time, informing the female locations. She had gone to human lands, then to the continent and, according to the last update, was returning to Prynthian. Eris had learned some things about her. And, very different from him, she was a free spirit, smart, cheerful and curious.

He wanted to meet her officially so bad. Dance and travel along the world with her. However, Eris knew that Beron was about to exceed all limits by planning to betray Prynthian. It wasn't the time yet, especially now.

Eris sighed, reading the coded message that said she was returning to Prynthian for the thousandth time.

Suddenly, he felt the bond suddenly pull and a loud throat cleaning behind him. Eris turned his back to the sound, seeing the female that haunted his thoughts for months.

— You know, Vanserra. I don’t appreciate being followed. — She said — Nice to finally meet you, my mate.

probably doing a part 2 soon.

[erisweekofficial]

City lights lay out before us

Pairing: modern!Eris x reader | WC: 1.9k | warnings: angst

Summary: months after a disastrous breakup, Eris unexpectedly shows up, unable to stick to the plan he made when he shattered your heart. At least for one night, the two of you live in a new plan.

Author’s note: happy free day for @sjmxreaderweek !! This is inspired by Fast Car by Tracy Chapman (elite vibes) and delusion 🫶🏻

The low hum of the diner is like a static noise, always there, only slightly grating. Your head throbs from your too tight ponytail. Your eyelashes feel heavy beneath the mascara and eyeliner. You nod to the cooks, taking off your apron and clocking out in the kitchen.

Each step to the parking lot feels heavier than the last, exhaustion settling into your bones. You need just enough to get home, to dive into the burger one of the cooks made for you and pass out on your ratty couch.

You hold your keys tight, ready to embrace the uncertainty of the darkness, walking to your car when you stop. A familiar shade of red sat a few spots from your old jeep, the luxury car standing out almost obnoxiously beneath the flickering lights.

You recognize it immediately - the shade of red that matched the driver’s hair, the heavily tinted windows, even the low rumble as it idled left the back of your throat feeling dry.

Your grip tightens on your keys, trying to hide your face. Aching feet forgotten as you suck your head low, speed walking to your car. You swing the door open, hopping in, ready to start your car. For some reason, you can’t move. Stuck in the darkness of the parking lot, unable to crank your car.

Some deep part of you yearns to know why he’s here. Why now, why tonight?

You know what tomorrow is, a massive ice cream container in your freezer back home prepared for the event. He knows what tomorrow is.

So why is he here?

You sit for a few more minutes, feeling the eyes from the car on you as your forehead meets the steering wheel.

Today was exhausting. A twelve hour shift and you have to open the diner in the morning, only enough time between shifts to eat and sleep just enough to not be a wretch tomorrow.

He can’t be more than twenty feet away, his car waiting silently. An open invitation - one that had been shut off from you for months now. He even parked in the same spot he used to.

The month of silence between you two felt eternal, a never ending chasm in your heart. So many emotions tangled themselves into knots in your heart. Friends said you were better off, that they didn’t have big expectations for him.

Were you the fool, always ready to be played? Or was Eris the coward, leaving when things got too close to real? Or were you both tarot archetypes, bound to some deck of fate to end up hurt and alone?

You are the fool tonight, you think as you get out of your car and walk toward his. You slide into the passenger seat, guarding yourself enough to hear the truth but not come back for anything less than you deserve.

You keep your eyes straight ahead, not looking at him as you buckle in. You sit pin straight, not letting any weakness show. Not even as the air conditioner blasts his scent across you, a tiny shudder slipping from your mouth at the smoky scent.

You fold your hands in your lap, feeling the car move as he reverses out of the spot, turning right out of the diner. No one speaks, the radio doesn’t even play, the only sound is the low purr of his engine.

Signs blur past, none of them registering. Your mind is too preoccupied with why, why, why to take note of where he was going or looking for familiar landmarks.

Eris liked to drive to clear his head. Half of your time spent with him was in this car, it was practically an extension of himself. It allowed him the right amount of privacy to not be seen, but his presence was familiar enough on the downtown streets to not be ogled or noteworthy.

“Say something.” An accidental plea slipping from his lips or a desperate command, you couldn’t tell. Either way it annoyed you.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Anything. Stop blocking me out.”

“That’s a funny way to explain what happened.”

The last time you spoke was a hazy memory full of more than just your heart being shattered. You couldn’t remember all that was said, all the ways you cursed the man sitting next to you.

His hands tightened on the wheel, looking more like he was revving a motorcycle than driving a car.

“I don’t know how to do this.” A sarcastic laugh escaped you, cold and bitter. That finally got you to look over at him, only his side profile in your view. It was enough to see the agitation on his face, how red his cheeks are from anger.

You didn’t know what ‘this’ meant, but really, did he know how to do any of it?

“You seemed very sure of yourself last time.” The last words he had spoken to you were etched into your brain, forming a memory that felt eternally present.

I can’t do this anymore.

Funny use of the word. Boiling what had felt so large and monumental to you down to ‘this’.

“Don’t do that.”

This and that. Never giving full language for whatever laid between the two of you.

“Eris, I don’t know why I got in here.” Rubbing the bridge of your nose to stop the tears from forming. You were done crying over him, especially to his face. “You made your opinion very clear.”

He didn’t. Never giving you a full answer, a real answer. Regardless, he made his opinion of you known. You were fun. A getaway from his real life. Someone poor and down to earth to be wowed by his family’s money and connections.

You were a vacation to him. Time to get his mind off his responsibilities, play pretend for a few months. But eventually the tan wears off and the swim trunks have to be packed away, clocking back into real life.

That’s all he had done. Ended things so you both could go back to the real world.

“I need you here.” His voice strains with the words, the weight of them pulling tight on his vocal words leaving him half breathless. He ticks his jaw with the effort of his confession, trying and failing to swallow it back down.

“Why don’t you need her?” It had stung watching it unfold through the bifolds of newspapers and through instagram, but it was all anyone in the city could talk about. The heir of a media empire marrying the heiress of an oil company. Eris Vanserra and Morrigan Fairchild: a billion dollar match set to wed tomorrow afternoon.

A lush ceremony in the biggest church followed by a reception in the art museum downtown. Security will be up to their ears in trying to keep uninvited guests out of the nuptials.

“I don’t want her.” He stresses the last word, practically sneering at the thought of his betrothed. All the media and press about the pair of them had left you wanting more, to analyze every movement they made together.

It’s only now you realize you have never seen a photo of them together.

“Then why marry her?”

“It’s what my father wants.” He hits the accelerator, likely pushing it all the way to the floor. You gasp at the intense rush of speed, falling back into your seat a bit, the leather cushioning the harsh movement.

The true heart of the matter, the unacknowledged third party in your relationship has always been his father. It never mattered who you were, how nice or funny you were - you would always be looked down on for your social standing.

“Don’t do it.”

“It’s not that simple.” His tone is full of disbelief and condescension. You could make out his meaning clear enough: you don’t get it.

“Make it that simple. Are you really going to throw your life away because your father asks you to?” Eris Vanserra, one of the most interesting people you knew, a force of nature, willingly giving up his autonomy feels impossible. Despite that, he still sits next to you, tying the puppet strings onto his limbs himself.

The car speeds up, weaving between lanes, desperate to outrun his own destiny or save every second possible despite having no destination.

“We could get married.”

Silence hangs in the car, interrupted only by the air conditioning blasting through the vents. Your mouth hangs open, unsure how to even respond to his proposition.

“We could get married,” he repeats, more sure this time. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

He looks over to you after pulling up to a red light, the bright lights coloring his face. All evening he had ranged from anger to some deep sadness, but now his face had relaxed.

“Your father will make us get an annulment.”

His face changes to green, both the light and a queasiness at the mention of his father.

“Besides, you have a fiancé.”

The car stays still despite the green light, this moment stretching on for an eternity. You can’t turn away from him, his deep amber eyes holding you in place. No one honks - a surprise in this city, its citizens eager to move as quickly as possible.

“She’d be fine.”

“Would she?”

“Her family- she has people that care about her. She’ll be fine. Better, actually.” You caught glimpses of the life Eris lived - the expectation, the stature. As an outsider, it was crushing glamour meant to stifle and suffocate any individuality. Somewhere deep down, you knew that she would not be alright. A failed engagement for such high status was not taken lightly.

Not to mention the tabloids and the press.

“How do you know that?”

His silence was all the confirmation you needed. He didn’t know, didn’t know any of it. Wasn’t that what he had admitted?

I don’t know how to do this.

“Let’s do it anyway.”

You cough as your breath catches in your throat, unsure you heard him correctly. He straightens in his seat, a new look of determination as he changes gears. He is at the helm of this half-baked idea, in the driver’s seat of his life for the first time.

Tomorrow will happen no matter what the two of you do, the sun rising no matter what decision you make. Somewhere deep down, you know what Eris will choose. You know where he’ll be tomorrow, the photos printed and distributed across the world.

Tonight, beneath the shelter of the stars and the roof of his car, you don’t care. One last night of dreaming to block out the heartache of tomorrow is worth it.

The city signs glow brighter as he drives. Each one is full of hope and opportunity. You spend hours driving around the city - down every side street, through neighborhoods on the outskirts. You plan an elaborate elopement, one that wouldn’t make it outside this car or this moment in time.

“It would be beautiful, wouldn’t it?” You ask, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway. Eris looks over at you, his face lit up by a green light. A more superstitious person would take it as a sign, but you stopped believing in them a long time ago.

He smiles, every trace of tomorrow gone, leaving his face bare and almost gleeful in the now.

“It would.”

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[erisweekofficial]

Eris Vanserra whose eyes are the same amber as the tree resins found in the depths of Autumn's forests.

Eris Vanserra who is long-limbed and uncannily tall and moves with willowing motions.

Eris Vanserra with a scent like oud, like agarwood, like the balsam sap that leaks from old trees: earthen and woody and green. Eris Vanserra whose anger smells like woodsmoke—like burning.

Eris Vanserra who can hear moss grow and scent the harvest coming and feel fish swimming in the rivers like they're in his own arteries.

Eris Vanserra who is of the land, and of the forest, and therefore is not fully separate from it.