newborngods

[newborngods]

hewncourt​.

𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐘  𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄  .  while most men had sought the secret of immortality  ,  it was something azriel had grown to hate  .  there was only loneliness in his life  .  he was a shadow of the past that had dwelled too long in the future  .  yet  ,  her presence makes everything a bit easier and a bit less lonelier  .  a breath hitches in his throat when she assures him that he’s not alone and in that moment he truly believes her  .  he’d been so skeptical that he’d ever hear those words again and yet they’re a glimmer of hope in thinking that  perhaps he wasn’t destined to be alone for the rest of this godforsaken life  .  he leans into the delicate touch of her fingers  ,  the soft pads of them brushing at the loose tendril of fair hanging over his brow  .  he should cut it but it’s easier to just tie back  .  ❛  i don’t mind you tagging along  .  i can show you all the places i’ve been to and even new ones  .  ❜  already he’s thinking of all the places he could take her  ,  of how the world was limitless and that she was no longer bound to ravka  .  she had been immortalized as its savior  ,  as its saint  ,  but there was still so much for her to see  .  ❛  my settlement was close to shu han if you want to visit  .  i can’t say i’d be welcomed but i’m familiar with the language  .  ❜  it can be their first destination  ,  one where she’d at least be welcomed and not shunned because of her physical appearance  .  ❛  unless you’d rather play the tables at ketterdam  .  that can be arranged  too  ,  ❜  he says with a slight grin as his shadows dance by the dying firelight beside them  .

   alina had been an orphan, she’d been a mapmaker and a soldier, she’d been a general and a saint.  but never once had she just been who she wanted to be. she’d never had the chance to explore, never had the chance to see new places and experience new things without war looming over her head.  there’s a catch in her breath as he tells her the places he can take her. the things she could see. shu-han -- there wasn’t exactly peace between the two nations of ravka and shu-han, but there was an arranged marriage in the works. a breath.   ‘ i think i’d rather start with ketterdam.  though i do wonder if letting you loose on the gaming tables would be quite fair. after all you’ve got this whole --- mysterious silent type thing going on.  ‘ there’s a teasing grin, she draws back for a moment, but bumps her shoulder into his.  ‘ and perhaps i am an expert gambler, i did spend time in the army after all. and not the luxurious 2nd army, also the 1st. the map makers were the real wild cards, we might have been experts at dice.. and cards.  ‘ teasing him is easy,  the shadows seem as at peace around her  ever.  and alina had found she liked them, she didn’t fear them --- they were different than the ones she’d known before. uncorrupted. un tainted. simply ... sadows, without malice or intent. 

[newborngods]

hewncourt​.

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘  ,  𝐇𝐄'𝐃  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑  𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃  𝐎𝐅𝐅  .  it takes everything in him to not pin him down and decapitate him after everything he’d done to aelin  .  while rowan had been known for his  restraint and patience it was something he truly loathed in this moment  .  the vein in his neck pulses with annoyance and his brows knit together as he keeps his gaze on him  .  he’s studying  ,  assessing just how fast he can move to him and just rip it off from his shoulders  .  it’s then that aelin breaks his macabre thoughts with a bit of humor  .  how his mate had come out stronger from the clutches of maeve and cairn had truly baffled him  ,  but he was thankful to mala for bringing her back to him  .  ❛  i suppose that will have to do  ,  ❜  he comments sternly as he folds his arms in front of him while sizing the demi - fae from where he stands  .  lorcan was lucky that aelin was more forgiving than himself and it was the only reason he were still alive  .

  aelin would almost seem magnanimous in her treatment of lorcan, he’d done everything in his power to undermine, undo, and torment her all in his own peculiar way. and truth be told she couldn’t help but feel that rowan choosing her had been part of the reason he hated her so. when aelin is the calm one,  it never boded well.  there’s a hum of thought as rowan forces calm, her fingers brush the folded arms in front of him. eyeing lorcan before -- ‘  or maybe i’ll let lady elide lochan deal with you as she sees fit. ‘  the good grace he currently recieved was only due to the affection she bore elide. and the strange bond that had formed between he and elide was... if not obvious, certainly not unseen.   a glance sent towards rowan,  ‘ think that will be suitable enough? i feel like if anyone can handle bratty half fae’s it’s definitely going to be elide. ‘  there’s affection in her eyes as she gazes at her husband, her mate -- her king.  a wave of dismissal, lorcan is to be dealt with by elide. which will likely mean he’ll go with her.            ‘  now ... husband... i think we have business we could attend to elsewhere.  now that the fun part of dealing with him is over.. ‘  did she mean anything regarding the kingdom? not likely.. unless practicing producing heirs counted as working for the kingdom...

[newborngods]

❛ i shouldn’t be jealous , you aren’t even mine . ❜ //  @hewncourt​  // azriel & elide

   why did this feel like a knife in her side? why did him dismissing the jealousy feel as bad as when she’d been jealous herself.  funny.  she’d thought it would be better to know he cared. but instead it feels like a dismissal. worst of all there was nothing to be jealous of.  the man he’d seen her with wasn’t someone she’d wanted to remember her.  he was one of the men her uncle had made her --- work -- with.  she’d wanted to scream when he cornered her.  wanted to run to azriel when the man had grabbed her elbow and asked what her rates were.  

   elide couldn’t breath, it was suffocating her. her past. her future. everything. the fragile control she had on who she was and what she did.  she was still living off azriel’s kindness. still just taking and being a burden.  there’s a shuddering breath, she grabs a champange flute off the meandering waiters tray and drains it in one long gulp.  her voice is steadier than she feels, dark eyes moving to him. 

              ‘  you find the strangest things to be jealous over.  and i can’t be yours because you’ve never asked.  ‘ 

    that courage fails -- and she heads towards the exit of the party. intercepted by rhysand’s wife, flush with the pregnancy blooming glow. but she pauses, talking to feyre briefly. the woman is kind, rhysand is -- powerful, if he knew the sort of man who’d come to this gala... she doubted he’d tolerate it. elide hadn’t even been a woman when that man had known her. but she is now. she’s a woman with a poker straight spine as she makes her way to the exit now, the way clear. the only sign of her anxiety the fact her hand trembles at her side, the slight limp to her gait as she tries to keep a low profile. she doesn’t want that man to follow, but she will defend herself if she has to. 

   the fresh air fills her lungs and she cannot help but take a long deep breath, relaxing that little bit away from the crush of people in fine clothes and with finer manners. her feet crunch on the gravel as she heads towards the side garden, still well lit -- safe, she thought. but there’s a heavy footfall behind her. she turns -- expecting azriel. he’d be the type to follow her, but it isn’t him.  it’s the man, perrington. 

  ‘ come come little dove -- you seemed so sweet and supple once.  does your leg affect your work? ‘  she feels his words slip around her like an oily ichor. but where once she would have bowed to that feeling, she straightens. turning slowly to face him, a small movement that takes his hand from its hovering at her arm.    ‘ go to hell. ‘  she bites out the words, trying to brush past him, better to suffocate in the party than be cornered outside by him. she’s unsteady, her leg throbbing with pain as she tries to step around him but he grabs her upper arms, pulling her back on the path, uncaring that he wrenches her and causes her pain, of course he doesn’t care. 

   .’ you weren’t so feisty before were you -- i think someone should break you of those nasty habits like talking back -- ‘ he’s shaking her now, his grip on her upper arms bruising. a cry catches in her throat, and she feels like she’s back in her uncles house. back in that basement bedroom. back where she didn’t have any power, where everything hurt and just blended together. and then -- as she cannot help but scream, struggling and fighting even as perrington slaps her to silence her... azriel is there. and that. is the last thing she remembers as perrington drops her, she loses her balance -- and falls. head making a dull thump against the narrow stone path. her last vision, her last thought -- of him. her fingers reaching for him -- then as she drifts out of consciousness, fall just short of him.

[newborngods]

❛   wake  up   ,   i  wanna  suck  your  dick.   ❜ //   @hewncourt  //  nesta & gavriel

   there was a few date rule.  the first date he’d kissed her.  but he’d done it not at the end of the date goodbye, he’d kissed her when she’d leaned her head back and laughed. he’d kissed her when joy showed on her face, when grief seemed a mile away. he kissed her when he could taste her smile. he’d kissed her until her teeth had caught at his lip and until her arms had slipped around his neck.  and then he’d let her go when she realized that she’d wanted something more.  fingers had lingered against her cheek as he’d given a soft hum and teased about how shameful there’d only be one date. 

    two days later she’d told him to ask her out again. since date two, according to his rules, was oral and fingering that she was the sole benefactor of... he hadn’t been entirely surprised.  that was last night, the restaurant had been fine, the book store had been fun, and they’d ended up back in his apartment. what he surprised him was how willingly she’d curled in his arms after. how relaxed she’d been when she nestled against his chest and fell asleep. 

  morning was another thing entirely, she wakes him demanding reciprocation. he cannot help the sleepy husky laugh as he reaches for her. pulling her back down against him. forgetting the walls she constantly throws up between them. forgetting her wariness of intimacy. just enjoying her closeness as he teasingly murmured against the shell of her ear,  ‘ didn’t you know thats not until date four? you’ve got to endure two more... but we could probably make breakfast date three... then another round for you... and then a shower --... and you bought about seven books. so i’m sure one of those will give you lots of ideas for what to do after date four.. which gives me time to come up with something to do for that date... since we know what to do after.. ‘ 

   there’s no doubt that physically he hates his system of rules - his length pressed against her as he tucks her closer to him. arms slipping around her, a teasing dead weight as she squirms and pushes on him.  ‘ --oh no i’ve fallen asleep again.. until you agree to a breakfast date. oh noo... my limbs can’t mooovee... ‘  the fact he was a father was sometimes remarkable... then again, his son didn’t have any better sense of humor than he did. lips brush her neck, teeth just grazing the pulse point before he murmurs again.. this time serious.  ‘ two more dates... please? ‘

[newborngods]

@hewncourt

CHARLIE HUNNAM Sons of Anarchy (2008) // Pacific Rim (2013) // King Arthur: the Legend of the Sword (2017) // Papillon (2017) // True History of the Kelly Gang (2019)

[newborngods]

hewncourt​.

𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐈  𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐓'𝐘𝐀  .  alina had never thought herself a saint , a savior , a summoner of light and life . for so long she was simply a cartographer , a product of keramzin due to the unfortunate circumstances of her life . she had come a long way since then . even now when she closes her eyes she can smell the burnt embers of the hearth from the kitchens and the quail roasted in honey during those days of feasts . but now she stares at the book in her hand and the painting within it . she studies the blue coloring of the kefta adorned with intricate detail and the crown of gold placed over her head . it looks a bit absurd and the longer she looks at it she can’t help the smile growing on her lips . is that how people saw her ? while the icons created of her seemed a bit much , she knew the power of religion in ravka . it helped people get by , survive , and while she herself had a hard time understanding the brevity of it , she knew for some people it was the absolute truth . it’s at that moment a noise distracts her . the wayward opening of the door from behind her catches her attention as she closes the book . ❛              do you not respect privacy ? ❜ her question comes out soft , a gentle tease ebbed at the tip of her tongue . she sets the lives of saints back on the vanity before turning around . ❛ tell me the truth . do you think they painted me accurately ? they make me look far more regal than i am . it’s a bit flattering really . ❜

    rowan was not a religious man, they had not answered his prayers, they had never heard his pleas. these blessed saints of old. but he bears gifts, gifts that they have given him, and he has lived so much longer than he had the will to. perhaps they did hear his cries as he’d found his dead mate, perhaps their decision was what he deserved. to live when she had not. but now -- he has lived hundreds of years.  he is not of this place. he is not of these people. yet he is named storm summoner, etheraliki.  the wind listens to him as it does no one else, and so he has moved through ranks. he is placed and positioned near the most sacred point. alina starkov.        saviors he supposes comes in all shapes and sizes.  but she looks like a nineteen year old girl to him.  fingers gliding over an image that some besotted fool has made of her. like she is a deity. a goddess. they call them saints but is there really much of a difference?  she sounds prim, correcting him for his invasion.  he is her guard.  is it surprising that he does not annouce himself? a brow raised at her question.      ‘  they paint what they want to see. not what they see. they paint a savior because it’s what they crave.  they do not paint the woman that bears that weight. but an imaginary vision of her. ‘  he does not have beautiful words, he is not elegant nor does he choose words the way the general does. no. he simply says the truth as he sees it. he does not have anything to lose. he is not the one lying to her.  rowan knows the truth. the black heretic. he knows the truth of aleksander morozova. because he was there. because he saw.  ‘ i think you are vastly more beautiful than some silly painting done by a monk who thinks only what he has to gain because of what you are, versus who you are. ‘

[newborngods]

Alina Starkov and The Darkling in SHADOW AND BONE (2021)

[newborngods]

* (  WUTHERING HEIGHTS /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ He’s more myself than I am. ❜

❛ Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. ❜

❛ If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be. ❜

❛ Be with me always. ❜

❛ I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free. ❜

❛ He couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day. ❜

❛ May you not rest as long as I am living. ❜

❛ You said I killed you - haunt me then. ❜

❛ I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. ❜

❛ Terror made me cruel. ❜

❛ I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. ❜

❛ She burned too bright for this world. ❜

❛ And this is one: I’m going to tell it - but take care not to smile at any part of it. ❜

❛ I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death. ❜

❛ People feel with their hearts, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him. ❜

❛ You teach me now how cruel you’ve been - cruel and false. ❜

❛ Why did you despise me? ❜

❛ Why did you betray your own heart? ❜

❛ I have to remind myself to breathe – almost to remind my heart to beat! ❜

❛ It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn. ❜

❛ It is hard to forgive. ❜

❛ May she wake in torment! ❜

❛ She’s a liar to the end! ❜

❛ Honest people don’t hide their deeds. ❜

❛ Heaven did not seem to be my home. ❜

❛ A person who has not done one half his day’s work by ten o'clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone. ❜

❛ Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies. ❜

❛ You know that I could as soon forget you as my existence! ❜

❛ I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. ❜

❛ A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself. ❜

❛ Why am I so changed? ❜

❛ Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy. ❜

❛ I’ll be as dirty as I please, and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty! ❜

❛ I hate him for himself, but despise him for the memories he revives. ❜

❛ I’m tired, tired of being enclosed here. ❜

❛ How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling. ❜

❛ Existence, after losing her, would be hell ❜

❛ I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing. ❜

❛ By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness. ❜

❛ She was a wild, wicked slip of a girl. ❜

❛ She burned too brightly for this world. ❜

❛ You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you. ❜

Keep reading

[newborngods]

so fill me up

[newborngods]

Jin Akanishi in The Legends of Monkey King (x) 

[newborngods]

hewncourt​.

𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄     𝐈𝐒     𝐍𝐎     𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋     .     𝐒𝐇𝐄     𝐈𝐒     𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄     .     what  she  lusts  for  is  power     ,     control     .     where  she  cannot  have  it  she  will  carve  it  out     .     cardan’s  question  beckons  the  inquiry  of  her  thoughts     ;     he  catches  her  in  a  moment  of  vulnerability  as  his  hands  selfishly  run  along  the  gentle  curve  of  her  hips  and  towards  the  bend  of  her  back     .     they  rest  there  for  but  a  moment  before  he  pulls  her  in  for  another  kiss     ,     one  filled  with  fire  and  passion  and  the  essence  of  darkness  that  bled  from  his  soul     .     his  lips  are  tinged  with  the  sweetness  of  faerie  fruit  and  covered  in  specks  of  gold     .     he  is  as  alluring  as  he  is  dangerous     ,     a  lethal  combination  to  anyone  with  an  untrained  eye     .     but  jude  was  not  untrained     .     she  had  known  the  tricks  of  the  faerie  world  from  the  moment  she’d  stepped  into  it     (     against  her  will     ,     against  his     )

𝙨𝙝𝙚  𝙞𝙨  𝙣𝙤𝙩  𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚  𝙨𝙩��𝙧𝙧𝙮  𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙙  𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡  𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙  𝙗𝙮  𝙝𝙞𝙨  𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙮     .     she  is  a  queen     ,     a  mortal  girl  who  had  come  out  stronger  than  the  faerie  realm  had  given  her  credit  for     .     her  lips  are  a  threadbare  distance  from  his  own     ,     her  breath  hot  upon  his  skin  as  she  stares  into  the  dark  of  his  eyes     .     ❛     we  are  so  much  worse     .     ❜     slowly     ,     almost  torturously     ,     she  leans  in  to  kiss  him     .     there  is  still  fire  and  passion     ,     but  the  red  string  of  fate  that  tethers  their  souls  together  becomes  tangled  in  the  depravity  of  her  truth     .     it’s  only  when  the  need  for  breath  becomes  too  great  that  she  pulls  away     .     hair  horns  are  mussed  from  touch     ,     red  lips  streaked  across  her  chin  from  the  assault  of  his  kiss     .     she  is  a  girl  unbidden  by  her  one  weakness     .     ❛     if  we  were  not  devils  then  i’d  think  we’d  grow  quite  bored  living  such  a  moral  life     ,     ❜     jude  says  with  a  grin     ,     a  huff  of  laughter  bellowing  after  her  words     .     it  made  no  sense  for  her  to  live  by  the  rules  other  created     ,     but  to  rather  bend  them     .

Jude is a deity carved of beauty and cruelty, and terrible fragile humanity. Those cruel hands that carved her had once been his, those sharp edges, those careful looks and measured words were sometimes because of the horrors he’d made her endure growing up. Yet he is as ever, fascinated. He does not care if he is cut on her sharp edges, he relishes the pain, relishes the blood. Yet that from fascination, from hate - has come love. A terrible sort of love that lays between mortal and immortal, that lays between a boy who could live for generations, and a girl who has but one life to live. And she chooses to live it with him. Hands are gentle, but greedy as they brush against her skin, drawing her closer to him. He will remember every moment of her life, he will not forget a breath she takes. Because each is precious. Because she is precious to him.

The kiss searing as she pulls him down to her height - his hand rakes through her hair as if trying to find some semblance of grasp to keep this beautiful flame burning in his arms. This kiss consumes him and when they break at last, there’s a gasp of air as their eyes meet. Inky eyes meeting hers, the feelings of love and devotion soaring through his veins. Is it greater to be loved by a nigh immortal soul? Perhaps. But perhaps greater of all is the love of a life that has but one promised lifetime. And she has given him hers. And he cannot imagine a life without her.

Fingers brush along the nape of her neck, a hum of amusement, ‘ Am I not debauched for you now? Shall I drink more? Want you more? Whisper the depraved things I crave to do to you every time I see you? Or are even these not sinful enough —..’ he teases, loving the roar of laughter, the warmth of it wrapping around his soul. Another memory to hide away, another thing that he will never forget. ‘ You — Jude Duarte Greenbriar... queen of elfhame... are my sin and my salvation, the love I never dared to dream would be mine, and the one I cannot live without. And I am hopelessly and entirely — yours. ‘

[newborngods]

Perfect

[newborngods]

hewncourt.

𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓     𝐈𝐒     𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐃     .     it  is  locked  like  a  vice  and  cast  away  in  the  effervescent  darkness  that  surrounds  him     .     shadowed  by  night     ,     veiled  with  scorn     .     aleksander  morozova  harbors  no  kindness  to  anyone     .     he  harbors  no  love  when  he  has   no  room  for  it     .     it  is  a  weakness     ,     a  vulnerability  which  can  shatter  everything  he’d  ever  worked  for     .     but  what  she  believed  and  the  truth  of  it  all  were  far  from  each  other     .     alina  had  long  believed  him  to  be  void  of  any  sort  of  humanity  or  the  capability  to  care  for  anyone  besides  himself     .     yet     ,     the  deep  baritone  of  his  voice  contrasts  that  hardened  exterior  he  keeps  with  everyone  else     .     in  her  company  he  shows  his  humanity     ,     his  expression  softened  by  the  glimmer  of  light  threatening  to  undo  him     .     knuckles  brush  against  her  skin  with  equal  parts  hesitancy  and  boldness     .     it  seems  that  he  cannot  help  himself  from  the  temptation  of  her  light     .

❛     𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚  𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨  𝙣𝙤𝙩  𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚  𝙮𝙤𝙪  𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠     .     ❜     her  eyes  thin  for  a  moment  as  she  leans  into  his  touch     .     somehow  he  keeps  her  rooted  to  the  very  earth  she  walks  upon     .     once  she  had  refuted  his  touch     ,     spurned  it  with  every  fiber  of  her  being     .     she  had  been  but  a  girl  untouched  by  his  magic     ,     too  weak  to  understand  the  verity  of  their  existence  and  the  inevitable  string  of  fate  that  held  them  together     .     it  was  only  when  she  embraced  that  darkness  that  she  found  her  freedom     ,     her  strength     .     alina  lifts  her  hand  to  rest  along  his  forearm     ,     fingers  flexed  along  the  black  kefta  hanging  from  him     .     every  detail  suddenly  feels  amplified     ,     every  touch  and  look  coursing  through  her  like  an  electrical  current     .     ❛     i  don’t  want  you  to  be  weak  for  me     .     i  want  you  to  be  strong     .    i  refuse  to  be  your  undoing  when  i  can  be  your  reckoning     .     ❜     she  takes  a  step  towards  him     ,     her  lips  pursing  slightly  as  if  waiting  in  bated  breath     .     she  can  feel  the  way  he  flexes  the  utmost  restraint  as  his  fingers  tangle  in  her  hair  and  rest  at  the  base  of  her  skull     .     even  now  she  tests  his  discipline     .     she  takes  no  pleasure  in  this  form  of  torture  but  she  does  nothing  to  warrant  it     .     they  are  fire  and  water     ,     light  and  shadow     .     her  other  hand  rests  on  his  shoulder  to  steady  herself  as  she  gathers  on  her  tip  toes     .     any  attempt  to  level  herself  with  him  seems  futile  as  he  remains  towered  over  her     .     ❛     we  will  completely  destroy  each  other     ,     aleksander     .     ❜     his  name  is  like  a  prayer  upon  her  lips     ,     spoken  as  if  coveted  by  the  gods  of  the  old  world     .     yet  her  words  are  instead  spoken  like  an  affirmation     .     it  is  a  twisted  proclamation  of  love     ,     a  promise  made  between  them  and  sealed  with  a  kiss     .     they  would  be  each  other’s  ruination     ,     their  destruction     .

There is within him a dangerous sliver of humanity, it has stood in defiance to the shadows and darkness he imbues within himself. It stands sheltered by something, waiting. And when that something came, he was taken by surprise. Because that piece of him that remained, that remembrance of humanity who stands horrified by what he has done to his country, to himself — was waiting for her. But that humanity cannot stop the cruelties he has piled upon her. Selfish twisted fear that she will not be powerful enough to match him, horror that he has control over her power. The darkness cannot order the light - yet he has done it. Forced the light from her and made it bend to his terrible will.

Humanity can endure, but for how long? Long enough for justice. Perhaps this punishment is sweeter than all, Aleksandr could not stop himself from hurting her, using her, outright abusing her —... no more than he could stop that part of him that grew to love her. A love that only makes that thread of humanity stronger, until he can strip away parts of himself. Until she can stand before him and promise him reckoning. She will be his end, and he will try to go with grace in this one thing.

This kiss will mark the end of his resistance, the end of his war. Even as she forces his patience, fingers slip through satin white hair as he watches her — dark eyes wide with want and awe, the shadows build as if to fight for their master, as if to subdue the light. But this is a trap he will fall into willingly, he bends to her touch — fingers at his shoulder searing through the fine embroidered black kefta. Marked by her, he will never be set free from this need within him. ‘ Alina —.. ‘ This roaring unsettled and unbridled vulnerability as his lips graze hers with the greatest of care. This kiss is gentler than the one he’d stolen so long ago, this kiss is him bowing to her light — to her power. As he’d once made her bow to his.

As they part — breath mingling as his hand slips from her neck to cup her cheek. His thumb grazes the fullness of her lower lip and he is entranced. ‘ Love is not weakness, but it is my ruin and my reckoning. Because I cannot be without you. But what will that cost you if you find the same? ‘ A hummed musing as they stand like that, his fingertips gentle as they trace the gentle line of her jaw, brushing down the nape of her neck. Interrupted only by the collar of her kefta, a bemused expression — ‘ I would rather be destroyed by you than built by anyone else. ‘

[newborngods]

He has served countless kings, faked countless deaths, bided his time, waiting for you.

[newborngods]

hewncourt.

𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒     𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄     𝐎𝐅     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐎𝐋𝐃     𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒     .     azriel  had  been  born  of  the  shadows     ,     the  very  essence  of  his  soul  diluted  with  an  obscurity  that  rivaled  even  the  darkest  ends  of  the  world     .     it  had  been  over  five  hundred  years  since  he’d  stepped  foot  on  ravkan  soil     ,     and  while  a  part  of  him  feels  as  if  he  should  have  missed  it     ,     he  doesn’t     .     there  was  nothing  left  for  him  besides  the  memories  he’d  tried  to  leave  behind     (     the  mother  who  loved  him     ,     the  settlement  he  couldn’t  save     ,     the  mountains  that  had  listened  to  him  weep     )     .     he  stares  off  into  the  distance  as  alina  speaks     .     for  someone  so  young  she  possesses  quite  a  bit  of  wisdom     ,     far  more  than  most  people  he’d  crossed  paths  with  in  over  five  centuries     .     there’s  a  swell  of  relief  in  her  words     ,     a  peace  spoken  in  the  very  tone  of  her  voice  as  she  offers  her  own  acumen     .

❛     we  have  been  gifted  with  so  much  power     ,     but  it  only  makes  the  immensity  of  our  loss  so  much  worse     .     ❜     he  understands  her  better  than  she  may  think     .     hazel  eyes  make  a  subtle  glance  to  where  the  gold  fabric  lined  on  her  kefta  meets  the  faded  line  upon  her  ring  finger     .     𝙨𝙝𝙚     𝙝𝙖𝙙     𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣     𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙     ,     𝙩𝙝𝙚     𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧     𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛     𝙤𝙛     𝙝𝙚𝙧     𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡     𝙣𝙤𝙬     𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙     𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝     𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙠𝙖𝙣     𝙨𝙤𝙞𝙡     .     there’s  a  pang  of  sympathy  that  tugs  on  that  bond  between  them     ,     a  whirlwind  of  hot  and  cold  that  takes  refuge  in  his  blood     .     azriel  had  met  many  men  and  women  alike  who  had  sought  immortality     .     they  believed  it  to  be  some  grandeur  gift  from  the  saints  and  gods  themselves     .     but  little  did  they  know  it  was  a  lonely  life     ,     one  filled  with  temporary  faces  and  the  lingering  stink  of  death     .     ❛     you  know                          ❜     there’s  a  slight  pause  as  he  looks  down  at  her     ,     the  expression  on  his  face  softened  from  the  shared  sadness  between  them     .     ❛     for  over  four  centuries  i  had  wanted  to  not  be  alone     .     then  you  arrived  and  the  world  seemed  a  little  less  dull     .     you  brought  color  back  into  my  life  alina     ,     and  gave  me  the  one  thing  i’d  wanted  for  so  long     .     a  friend     .     ❜     

Alina had learned that shadows were cruel, that darkness was cold - that its presence was suffocating and the opposite of the things her light represented. Yet perhaps those lessons had been wrong, perhaps it was the man who held those shadows. Because in his shadows, there was safety, there was solace, there was comfort. She has never known soil but Ravka, it is the land she has fought for, fought against, and toiled beneath. From a humble mapmaker to the sainted sun summoner. They built altars, bowed before whitened trees, lit candles in her name, things she was — unworthy of. For beneath the power, she was still the girl who’d wanted nothing more than an ordinary life, and who’d tried to walk away and have one. But saints rarely have happy endings.

There is more grief in her story than she cares to dwell on, for such short years she has had a life time of grief. But his words - they lift the corners of her lips as her gaze raises from the faded gold embroidery, the pale line around her finger, marks of the two who had shaped her - and in their own sometimes terrible way - loved her. ‘ Friends make things better. ‘ Alina has left them behind too, oh she fights for them, but her heart cannot take another loss... So she cannot fight beside them anymore.

A pause as she forces morbid thoughts from her mind, leaning to bump her shoulder against his. Alina is petite at the best of times, but compared to him — she looks diminutive. Yet there is comfort in the pair of them. Both gifted these gifts that have felt more like curses, both separate by time and death from all they once held dear. ‘ And don’t you mean light? After all — Shadows are just the absence of light. ‘ Teasing she bumps his shoulder again giving a hum as she takes her stick and pokes at the embers of the fire again, funny — the shadows she’d once known, the darkness that had wound itself around her... had always felt oppressive. But sometimes, when night grew darker and she sat beside him — she felt almost free within his darkness.

[newborngods]

‘ And it hurts so much to want something you can’t have. ‘ ( azriel & alina )

[ @hewncourt ]

Fingers graze the kefta she wears, worn in places now — she has changed. She has been - remade. Part in grief. Part in power. Part in - returning to perhaps who she was meant to be. Delicate touch as she picks at the frayed golden thread of the embroidery, a sigh leaves her lips as she finally glances towards him. Alina had sought Azriel out, much the way The Darkling had once sought her. Yet, she would like to think she was gentler than Aleksander had been, that she did not manipulate, that she did not scheme. But perhaps she had lived long enough to not be able to recognize what had happened to her, to who she had become.

‘ The trouble with wanting, it is never satisfied. If you want power, you’ll never have enough. If you want peace, you will find yourself fighting wars for it. If you want — someone, you’ll find yourself standing over their grave while you are left to live on alone. ‘. There is grief in her words, she has been all three. She had wanted power thinking it would set her free, she had wanted peace and fought a war, she’d wanted a life with Mal and — he’d been taken away too. Everything she wanted was eventually taken. A shudder as she straightened from the small fire they huddled around. War was here again. She yet again allied with shadow. And this time — this time she wasn’t afraid of what lay beneath the surface.

Firelight catches in dark eyes as her gaze meets his, ‘ You will likely lose everything, whether you take what you want or not. But sometimes, maybe it is better to have had and lost, than to never had at all. ‘ Eyes drift back to the black kefta, the golden embroidery, grazing the line where a wedding ring had been on her finger. She has lost it all. Perhaps one day, she will be brave enough to want again.

[newborngods]

SHADOW AND BONE (2021) Alina and the Morozova’s Stag