#muse: zasha

[horrorcomeshome]

@w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l

A large home in Geneva, one where a solitary man lived after the death of his entire family. It was almost too good to be true, especially for a being such as Zaharis'ban. They were bound to a human body, sigils of the Eastern Orthodox tattooed onto the host's flesh, some poor Italian-Balkan man whose soul had died while he and they were sharing the body. It didn't fit right anymore, Zasha thought, as the body wanted to shut down, but it willed the body to keep going. Especially when it seemed like this was his big break. From the rumors of the lonely man in this house, it seemed like he would be set for years feasting upon the energy and eventually the soul.

Wrapped in scavenged layers to keep himself warm, Zasha approached the house. The clothes were rather ratty, being just about anything that they could really find as they'd been searching for some souls to manipulate. Since then as well, the body had deteriorated, making them appear sick, eyes under their eyes darker and veins appearing greenish-blue under olive skin. Well, fortunate for it, seeming destitute and impoverished would likely help its chances of getting into the home and staying there for some time; through the guilt of a rich man or true kindness, the young man would likely board it for some time. Knocking upon the door, it called out and added a tremor to its voice, "Hello? Is anyone home?"

[constellaris-a]

   would ...  would anyone ...  wanna ship with the following muses ??

ambriel,  arlecchino,  ayaka,  ayato,  byleth,  candace,  chihiro,  columbina,  damian,  dehya,  eden,  ei,  gentaro,  guizhong,  hifumi,  hina,  jianyu,  kaveh,  kevin,  kokomi,  letitia,  lisa,  luca,  lumine,  nemu,  nilou,  nirvaan,  niwa,  orion,  pulcinella,  quinn,  saiguu,  sara,  shenhe,  shinobu,  skirk,  takumi,  tomo,  tsubaki,  xiao,  xue,  yae miko,  yelan,  yuxin,  zasha

[w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l]

◎- My muses reaction to yours pulling them in their lap and kissing mine (horrorcomeshome) ((Zasha and Zura))

Zura knew at a glance that Zasha was into her, the way they kept looking at her made it clear and above that, she felt the same way about them. The other demon was incredibly sexy to her, as sexy as one could be without being another concubus like her and she had wondered when one of them would grow tired of this game of cat and mouse and finally pounce. She had been dancing in front of him when she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her down. It had been well and long enough waiting for it that she just went along with the movement, straddling it as she was pulled to its lap. Being what she was. Zura always felt an underlying amount of lust at any given moment, but being maneuvered like that by another demon only made that feeling rise in her, and before she even had a moment to tease them about it, their lips were on hers and she was utterly delighted, letting out a soft moan into the kiss and she wrapped her arms around their neck. It had only just started but already she found herself craving more from it, craving it’s touch.

Finally after some time of teasing each other, it had come to a head and they were finally taking a big new step, Zura grinding against them slightly as the two of them kissed, her tail swinging contently behind her.

[thecoiiective]

Hello! Ashley | she/her | 25+ (who needs specifics?)

I’m attempting to resuscitate this blog, get some writing back into my system in the midst of a busy grownup life. (Don’t grow up, its a trap)

So new follows, mutuals, EVERYONE! Please fill out my interest tracker and let me know what you’re looking for! Chances are I’m more intimidated of you than you are of me so this could help us get started.

It’s about 5 questions and I did go through and delete answers from a long time ago. 

                                     -MUSE LIST UNDER THE CUT-

Anna | Frozen

Belle | Once Upon a Time

Bosley | Charlie’s Angels 2019

Cassandra | Dragon Age

Courtney | Total Drama

Doreah | Game of Thrones

Effie | Hunger Games

Elisa | Gargoyles

Elizabeth | Pirates of the Caribbean 

Ella | Cinderella 2015

Fawn | Tinkerbell

Glimmer | Hunger Games *book based

Heidi | Descendants OC

Lex | Jurassic Park

Maggie | Walking Dead

Mystique | XMen

Parker | Leverage

Pepper | MCU

Sansa | Game of Thrones

Terra | Teen Titans

Violet | Incredibles

White Fairy | Once Upon a Time OC

Bolded names are the muses with highest activity

Muses I've written before who are available upon request:

Attina | The Little Mermaid

Audrey | Atlantis

Athena | Tomorrowland

Cassandra | Tangled TAS

Chel | Road to El Dorado

Cornelia | WITCH

Dawn | Strange Magic

Dolores | Encanto

Gwen | Ben 10 Alien Force/Ultimate Alien

Ingrid | DnD Arctic Ranger OC

Jessie | Toy Story

Kelly | Jurassic Park

Kyra | Chronicles of Riddick

Makkari | Eternals

Merida | Brave

Nani | Lilo and Stitch

Rosalie | Twilight

Shuri | Black Panther/MCU

Suki | Avatar the Last Airbender

Susan | Chronicles of Narnia

Zasha | Dragon Age Inquisition - Trevelyan OC

[ashenvoid]

𝔱𝔞𝔤 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔠𝔰. 𝔢𝔩𝔡𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔷𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au acosf - Chapter 79

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

There's a tiny crumb of 18+ content

After their dinner and subsequent drinks, Mor offered to winnow them back to Illyria which Cassian was thankful for because his wings were already feeling the journey to Velaris and he wasn’t entirely sure he could carry both females back after the bottle of wine he’d drank. Emerie gave a sigh of relief when she heard the news that she did not need to latch around his waist too.

Emerie refused to look at Cassian when she took hold of Mor’s outstretched hand. He wasn’t sure if they had reached the stage where they could tease each other yet – but he knew Nesta would always be on Emerie’s side. There was something hidden beneath her words at the table; it was a confession of sorts. Her brown eyes had flitted to Mor throughout the night, long after she had been the topic of conversation. Each time Mor had laughed or her voice had rung out clearer than another’s, it drew Emerie’s attention like a moth to a flame.

They waited until they could see a light on in the upper floor window before Mor winnowed home and Cassian walked back to the cabin with Nesta tucked beside him. She shivered slightly from the chill of the night so he brought his wing to curl around her, blocking out the breeze.

‘That went well,’ he said, steering them off to the left.

Nesta let out a low chuckle. ‘Splendid.’

There hadn’t been any arguments or barbed words, not that he’d heard at least. Nesta, surprisingly, had spent most of her night speaking animatedly with Helion and Rhys. Even Feyre’s jaw had dropped at the three of them exchanging more than pleasantries. Cassian couldn’t deny that it made him happy beyond belief to see his mate finally comfortable enough to speak with Rhys without either of them at each other’s throats. Helion was just a strange addition. Feeling brave, he broached, ‘Elain and Lucien.’

‘Lucien and Elain,’ she replied, a mysterious tone in her voice. Her hand gripped his a little tighter. ‘Does Lucien look familiar to you?’

‘Well, he looks like Lucien. Who else is he supposed to look like? Thank the Mother, he didn’t inherit Beron’s scowl.’

‘Thank the Mother indeed,’ she mused, voice trailing off. Her eyes weren’t on the path, she was relying on him to direct them or stop her from stumbling though only his siphons cast light on the trail. ‘Where did Azriel go?’

Cassian shrugged. He’d made some excuse to leave, his demeanour amenable, after he’d spoken with Nesta and Lucien. He’d been warmer in previous days and Cassian couldn’t think why. It was a nice change. Nicer still was seeing Az and Mor getting along without any awkwardness or broken feelings. They had been talking – with no signs of his shadows blocking him from view – like old friends, just as it should be.

As the cabin came into view, Zasha’s barks started up.

‘Do you think he sits in the window waiting for us to come home all night?’

Nesta pushed out her bottom lip. ‘I think you’d sit there with him if I left. Speaking of,’ she sucked in a breath. ‘Lucien and I are off to the Autumn Court tomorrow morning.’

The words entered his ear but failed to register fully. ‘You and Lucien? Lucien? Autumn?’

Nesta threw herself flat against the hallway wall, leaving Cassian to be barrelled into by the juggernaut that was Zasha. She watched with a happy, little expression, as the dog leapt up towards his chest. ‘Yes. Us two. And Zasha.’

‘Is this something to do with your tattoo?’

She shrugged one shoulder then neatly lined her shoes up onto the wooden rack beside the door. ‘That – and Zasha deserves to see his family.’

‘He’s a dog.’

‘Funny, Amren calls you one too.’ She said pointedly. ‘Adeline isn’t doing too well either. I would like to see her – and Eris. It hasn’t been that long since Beron’s death.’

There was a challenge in her swirling eyes, daring him to protest or become overbearing. The instinct reared its head, especially now that her tattoo was gone. That was the only real defence they had from Koschei but it had always relied on Eris being willing to step into the line of fire for her. Lucien might protect Nesta – and Eris might say he would – but she was more at risk now. It would break Cassian if anything happened to her, but caging Nesta would break her and their carefully built trust.

‘Tell that High Lord you want an expensive engagement gift. The Autumn Court treasure troves are bottomless – or so the stories say.’

The tension uncoiled itself from Nesta’s body. In its place a teasing grin came. ‘Is your High Lord so cheap that we must rely on a better High Lord’s generosity?’

‘Better?’ Cassian blew out an exaggerated breath then leant against the wall. He tutted for good measure with a shake of his dark head. ‘How long do you want?’

‘Sorry?’

‘To run. Ten seconds? Nine. Eight.’

Nesta squealed – a noise he’d never heard come from her before – and bolted towards the stairs. He gave chase, making her scream even louder as she clattered up the stairs. He caught her near the top, using his wings to block an escape and pinned her in a ball on the floor. She was shaking with laughter, freer than she had ever been, pleading and begging.

He scooped her into his arms and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Your heart is beating so fast.’

‘Have you ever been chased up the stairs by a giant bat? It’s terrifying.’

‘You are full of compliments tonight.’

‘I’d rather be full of you.’ Nesta choked on the final syllable, as if shocked that she’d dared to say such a thing. A pink blush spread across her cheeks and she attempted to turn her face into his arm to avoid looking at him.

‘Who is this female? Daydreaming about my high lord and lady copulating whilst airborne now this.’

‘Copulating?’

‘We can all talk like Eris.’

As another surprise, Nesta announced that she wanted to take a bath with him. Their first had been disastrous in the Spring Court though his bath in Illyria was much wider and deeper.

As the water thundered from the taps, Nesta’s eyes had gone distant again. Cassian tugged her wrist gently, dredging her out of her daydream.

‘We don’t need to, if it’s too much.’

He had noticed that she preferred to shower still. Not once had she drawn herself a bath since moving to Illyria. It was easy to forget that these issues still existed although Nesta had done an admirable job of patching up all the parts of her that were crumbling.

‘I have to,’ she said quietly.

The light, teasing mood faded as Cassian entered the bath first. Her hand trembled slightly as she slipped it into his, stepping with one measured foot into the bath followed by another. Her eyes screwed shut while she eased her body into the water. The water lapped across her bare skin once she was seated.

‘You’re in,’ said Cassian. He waited until her eyes flickered open then asked, ‘Why do you have to?’

For a while, Nesta said nothing. She merely stared with eyes full of sadness and despair. Quietly, she spoke. ‘I have a friend who is afraid of the world. How can I tell her to be brave if I cannot be myself?’

‘You are brave.’

‘I’m brave when I have no other choice. A bath shouldn’t scare me. I want her to feel the sun on her face, so I will be brave for her and give her my courage.’

‘For a witch, you’ve got a big heart.’

Nesta hummed a laugh and her fear disappeared like dropping a stone into water. ‘Cassian?’

‘Nesta.’

‘I love you.’

‘Me too. Always.’

***

Nesta let Cassian carry her to the bedroom after their bath, even if she was completely naked. He had insisted on towelling her dry after he’d combed through the hair he had washed. It was a novel feeling still to be so thoroughly taken care of. Sometimes her heart ached thinking of how different the path could have been if she had given in earlier; if she had been turned fae and instead of fighting the desire to be near him, she let the tide take her away. Where would their relationship be now?

Soft kisses were pressed into the pads of her fingers then Cassian trailed his lips across the pale skin of her forearm, making her shiver.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ he murmured.

‘I’ve not done anything yet,’ she teased.

His breath tickled against her skin as he laughed. More kisses were pressed up the length of her arm until he reached her shoulder. ‘For coming to Velaris. For talking to Rhys. All of it. I’m proud of you.’

Nesta shuddered at the feel of his breath caressing her ear. One of his broad hands stroked her thigh delicately until it had tempted her legs to open further.

‘Are you seducing me?’ She whispered.

‘Is it working?’

‘A little. But I can seduce you much, much quicker.’

The summons was there in his hazel eyes, daring Nesta to unravel him. She lifted herself from the bed to straddle his thighs. Almost unconsciously, his eyes darted to her breasts and the corner of his mouth ticked up. She cradled his face with one hand, tipping it upwards so she could brush the tip of her nose along his stubbly cheek.

‘Tomorrow morning, I want to train. You and me. With weapons. I’ll even wear my leathers.’

A shaky exhale from her mate followed Nesta’s words. ‘You win.’

In a blur, Cassian’s hands gripped her waist then he was lifting her off and pressing her down into the mattress with his strong body on top. To emphasise it, he spread his magnificent wings out behind him. The glow of candles were muffled by the thin membranes, the light coming through in a reddish-umber.

Two of his fingers pressed into her, already discovering how ready she was to take him.

‘Slowly,’ she dictated, ‘And I want to see you.’

The weight of Cassian’s hips pressed into hers as he positioned himself at her entrance. She braced her hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer. Nesta wanted to look into his eyes when he first entered her, wanted him to know that she was his, utterly his.

Their lovemaking was gentle, more intimate. Their lips barely parted from each other with kisses as their currency. Every gasp or moan was caught on his lips.

Cassian came with a guttural climax when Nesta dared to trail a finger along one of the more delicate tendons on his wings.

When both were sated, she expected Cassian to draw her to his muscled chest. It had become common for her to lay with her ear against his skin listening to the gradual decrease in his heart rate as they settled for the night.

Tonight, however, Cassian departed to the bathroom, bringing the comb back with him. He parted her hair down the middle, taking care to ensure it was even then started weaving one section into a braid. His hands worked slowly but with precision, though it was looser than she normally would have it. Nesta couldn’t help but watch the crease in his brow deepen as his concentration stretched.

Once the first plait was done, Cassian blew out a breath. ‘It makes your arms ache. You’ve got so much hair.’

Nesta said nothing. Her lips were pressed together, supressing a smile. Never did she imagine she would let anyone touch her hair, much less a fearsome general whose own hair always looked as if it needed a good brush itself.

His second braid started out neater but he began to rush it once he’d noticed her stifled yawn.

As they settled into the covers, a cool wind blew through the open bedroom window. It was exactly where Nesta wanted to be – with her body tangled with her fiancée's.

A soft whine sounded at the bedroom door then the scratch of nails.

‘It’s your turn.’

Nesta groaned and leaned as far as she could from the bed so that her fingertips grazed the handle. It only needed a slight tug to open it an inch then Zasha was pressing his black nose through the gap, forcing the door open wider so he could enter. The dog bounced onto the bed, stepping over Nesta to try to wedge himself between her and Cassian.

‘We need a bigger bed,’ Cassian complained, using a hand to push Zasha back so Nesta could wiggle back into her space beside him.

‘A bigger home. You promised me a bath to swim in.’

‘After you’ve spent all my money on a wedding.’

At the mention of their wedding, a satisfied noise escaped her lips. The wedding was important, but the significance of marrying him mattered far more. Nesta nuzzled against him like a burrowing animal until Cassian’s arm enveloped her. Here was where she belonged.

***

‘Sloppy.’

Nesta braced a hand on her hips, staring at him with eyes of fire. ‘It’s heavy.’

‘Sorry, sweetheart. When you next fight in a war, just ask your enemy to give you a break to rest your arms. I’m sure they’ll be accommodating. Pick up your sword.’

‘I’m not one of your soldiers,’ she grunted, hands reluctantly wrapping around the hilt.

Cassian gave her a dazzling smile. ‘This is me being nice. I was twice as hard on Feyre.’

Nesta raised her eyebrows then muttered, ‘She wasn’t sleeping with you.’

‘Nes, sexual favours won’t win you any prizes on the battlefield.’

'Should have accept Lanthys offer,' she muttered again.

Cassian watched his mate draw her sword across her body again, feet in the perfect stance that he’d taught her in the Spring Court. Magic swirled within the metal. He’d wanted them to practise again with wooden weapons but the weights were too light to help her build the muscles she needed, and he wanted her to be more familiar with the Made weapons. They were an extension of her, after all. Her magic was imbued in the blades.

Each time he parried and Nesta blocked, Cassian could feel the churn of magic from her blades. She’d already splintered two of his swords from the pulse of magic that leaked from them. Nesta had vowed to take the broken pieces of metal to Balthazar and have him work on them or at least purchase new ones.

‘You could use my other one,’ Nesta offered.

It was tempting. Every little boy in Illyria had dreamed of finding Gwydion or Narben at the bottom of a lake or drawing it from a stone to call it their own. Even when he’d won his first proper sword at thirteen, Cassian had imagined himself wielding Gwydion.

‘I shouldn’t.’

Nesta cocked her head to the side. ‘Emerie’s not afraid.’

‘Give me the sword.’

The moment his fingertips brushed against the black leather spanning the length of the hilt, his siphons shivered in anticipation. This was impregnated with raw magic that swam and leapt like stardust. The hairs on his arms stood on end as he grazed against the cross guard.

‘You attack me. I’ll block.’

Nesta needed no further encouragement. Her skill had improved during their practises in Spring; rather than wild, poorly-timed swinging, she planned her movements and was nimbler on her feet. Still, Nesta lacked the rigor of frequent trainings so there was still something feral about her movements with the sword. Cassian had to wonder if some of her skill came from the sword itself, driving her movements without conscious thought. It was an effort for him to block when usually it was as easy as blinking. It should have been as easy as blinking to fend off Nesta. His mate even managed to drive him back a foot or two. She seemed to have complete faith that he’d be able to block every parry she made too so Nesta did not hold back.

With an almighty smack, their swords came together. The force of it rattled through Cassian’s bones, shuttering his jaw closed. It pulsed across the land, making even the trees tremble. But Nesta was blazing. Not only her eyes, but the halo of silver flames crowning her too.

‘Again,’ she breathed.

It was mid-morning when Lucien appeared, the patter of rain falling softly around them. Nesta wiped her sweaty-brow with the back of her hand then drove the blade into the ground at her feet.

‘I’ll need to shower quickly.’

Lucien dipped his head. ‘Good morning to you both. Training?’

Nesta blew out a breath. ‘A little reward for Cassian for being such a good sport ahead of my visit to your home.’

The devil was in her today, Cassian decided. She gave him a sulty wink over her shoulder, the teasing tone of her voice still ringing in his ears.

While she scurried away to ready herself for a day in Eris Vanserra’s company, Cassian did his best to host Lucien. They’d not become friends in the time he’d been the Night Court’s emissary, but relations were decidedly better than they had been previously.

‘Can I get you tea?’

Lucien shook his hand. ‘No thank you. I won’t trouble you for long. And here’s Zasha.’

The dog landed his head onto Lucien’s knee. Now Cassian knew how Nesta felt each time Zasha preferred him over her. There must be something in the blood of Autumn Court males that drew smokehounds to them.

When he placed Nesta’s swords onto the table ready to clean and polish them, Lucien leapt to his feet.

‘Mother above, she Made those?’ Lucien shivered, the motion shaking his entire body. ‘That level of power.’

From the ashen tone of Lucien’s skin, Cassian did not think it prudent to tell the male that Emerie and Nesta had joked of producing more to drive up sales in Emerie’s shop as if they were nothing more than novelty toys. These swords were priceless.

‘I’ll try to have her back before dark. Eris will insist on lunch – maybe even dinner – I’m sure of it.’

Cassian tried not to clench his teeth so hard. He did not like it one bit – but what could he do?

When Nesta finally reappeared downstairs, her damp hair was coiled into a bun. Air caught in Cassian’s lungs at the sight of her. Her dark green skirt trailed around her ankles and she wore a white chemise on top with a black stay. It had been embroidered with pretty, colourful flowers – and it did wonders for her already perfect breasts. She said nothing as she pulled a forest green cloak onto her shoulders and slipped a collar around Zasha’s neck.

‘I’ve never seen you dressed like this.’

It wasn’t revealing and yet Cassian was ready to drop to his knees and beg her for one kiss, so enchanting she appeared.

‘Spring Court clothes,’ she offered.

Of course, anything other than Night Court alignment, Cassian thought with a grumble. No, he had seen her in Illyrian dresses that Rovena had made for her. They were only clothes, he told himself.

‘Ready?’ Lucien asked.

Nesta moved towards Lucien but Cassian intercepted her steps. ‘You’ll be alright? Any sign of trouble-’

‘Cassian, I have two knives with me. One of those I have already pressed to Eris’ throat in the past. I will be fine.’

His eyes scanned her body from head to toe. ‘Where?’

‘I am not lifting my skirt to show you. We have a guest.’

With a stabbing pain in his chest, Cassian stood in the doorway watching his mate leave the safety of their cabin with her hand laced in Lucien’s. Somehow, the male had managed to haul Zasha in one arm against his chest, so the smokehound had his paws braced on Lucien’s shoulder, staring back at Cassian.

***

Birdsong filled their ears as they winnowed into the heart of the forest. It was a serene day with golden light filtering in through the gaps in the russet-leaved trees. Lucien really did appear at home there, as if he was carved from the forest’s essence.

‘Shall we?’

Nesta took the arm he offered and followed him onto the trampled trail leading to the Forest House. A change was already afoot. The sentries on duty at the gate greeted them rather than staring with disdain as they had in the past – and the gates were open. Sentries lined the walls, but more folk were passing through the gates. Within the grounds, there were even vendors selling their wares in a small market.

‘Eris’ idea,’ Lucien explained. ‘Vendors sign up to a queue and each week a new group is able to set up here for a nominal fee. It increases their exposure to some of the lords we have with deep pockets which keeps the sellers happy and it turns a small amount of coin.’

‘He’s very clever.’

‘Too clever by half,’ Lucien agreed.

‘May I examine the market?’

Dutifully, Lucien escorted her to each stall in turn while Nesta perused the items. The pouch of money she tended to carry with her was considerably lighter once they had completed their turn of the market. For Emerie, Nesta had purchased a cashmere scarf dyed navy with golden threads woven into the fibres. It had reminded her of her friend the moment she set eyes on it. At another stall that was similar to a haberdashery, Nesta purchased lengths of gorgeous material in the Autumn colours and patterns as well as a pin cushion shaped like a toadstool for Rovena. She hadn’t intended to buy Azriel’s mother anything, but she’d felt the pull to the stall.

When they entered the Forest House, arms laden with items, Zasha was taken by a servant for a wrestle with all of Eris’ dogs. The crushing sombre atmosphere of the Forest House had been replaced for a bustle of activity similar to what Nesta had experienced in Eris’ private home. Servants smiled to them rather than dipping their heads or pressing their bodies into the corridor  

‘He’s threatening to overhaul the lords. They’re all panicking,’ Lucien snickered.

‘Your brothers, they all swore fealty to Eris?’

Lucien nodded sternly. ‘Smart enough to realise it was better to bow to him. They have no allies beyond this court and Eris’ dogs would hunt them down in a matter of hours otherwise.

They followed the familiar dark-panelled walls past the row of portraits. One of Eris already hung beside Beron’s, his likeness less obvious in the painting than in person. Nesta had to wonder if the painter made that decision or Eris did.

The door was ajar and Lucien stopped a few paces from it, pressing his finger to his lips to listen in. A soft tinkling laugh seeped from the room. Was this how Lucien earned his nickname of a clever fox by snooping and eavesdropping wherever he went?

‘-be waiting a long time for that, mother.’

‘Five hundred years and still nobody holds a place in your heart. Should I remain without grandchildren until I wither away? Perhaps I should badger your other brothers.’

‘By all means, badger Lucien. He is the son with the mate. Just do not encourage the other three to pursue any poor females. I can think of no worse punishment to the females of this court.'

‘One of you has to give your mother a grandchild.’

At that, Lucien pushed the door open. ‘Eris has given you lots of grandchildren, mother. They all happen to have tails and grey fur.’

Eris greeted Nesta with a soft smile then strode forwards to kiss her cheek. Adja was curled on a rug near the window, her tail thumped a few times in greeting. Of course, Eris would not be without his favoured dog.

Adeline had risen from her couch and also kissed her cheek. Lucien then pulled his mother into a tight embrace. On the whole, she appeared intact. Her hair was a little dry still and her cheeks lacked colour, but Nesta had expected a shell of a female rather than one pestering her son on producing a chubby-cheeked grandchild.

‘What have you been buying?’ Eris tittered, peering into her arms at the items. He plucked an apple drizzled in sticky toffee on a stick from the top and inspected it. ‘For Cassian?’

‘For children in the village,’ she replied indignantly. Nesta did not need to tell them that there one buried beneath her piles of items that was for Cassian.

Eris gestured to a large wooden cabinet for her to place her purchases on top then rounded on his mother, ‘You see. You could go and explore the market too.’

Adeline pursed her lips and gave a slight shake of the head. ‘It is not for me.’

Eris set his lips into a hard, slack line, his exasperation seeping through. Lucien stepped between them, reaching for his mother’s hands. ‘We could take a walk instead in the forest.’

‘No, I shouldn’t like to leave the boundaries of the house.’

Ah. Nesta knew that feeling, the reluctance to leave her comforting nest. She had been the same at Rosehall, refusing all of Rovena’s offers of a walk. It became harder and harder to push out of the safety net, not realising it had become a cage of her own creation.

‘What about the stables?’ Lucien offered, the pain beginning to etch itself into his features. ‘You’ve always loved horses.’

Adeline pretended to consider it; it was an expression Nesta had used many times herself. ‘Perhaps another day.’

‘Then let us take tea and leave Eris to interrogate Nesta.’ Lucien offered his arm to his mother and led her from the room. The Autumn Court gallantry shined through both sons.

Their footsteps grew quieter as the pair walked the length of the corridor. Eris slumped into a chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. Though he presented himself well and tidy, there was a tiredness lingering behind his eyes.

‘She hasn’t left the house since the funeral. Won’t even open the windows. Cauldron knows what she thinks will happen.’ Eris sighed, long and loud. ‘Seizing control of a court webbed with lazy, conceited males is difficult enough without trying to ensure my mother doesn’t fade away to dust. Lucien has been crucial here.’

Nesta had to ask the question now or she would lose her courage. ‘Do you think Lucien looks like your father?’

Eris grimaced. ‘No.’

‘Do you think Lucien looks like his father?’

Their eyes met across the room, a spark propelling between them. Eris composed his features into a blank mask. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

In a low voice, she said, ‘I think you do. I think you wanted me to find out that day you told me he wouldn’t be high lord of the Autumn Court. I think that’s why you ensured Lucien got over the border and still made time for him – because you knew he was never a threat to your rule.’

For a long while, Eris assessed her. His amber eyes seemed to glow with the hazy sunlight bleeding in through the windows. Then his face twisted into an approving smile.

The male joined her on the couch, so they could exchange quieter words. ‘You are very clever. I did expect you to work it out earlier. And you know the father, I presume?’

‘I was sat beside them both last night. Their mannerisms are similar, much more than their appearance. Helion has decided to investigate what sort of male Lucien is and is pushing him and Elain together.’

Eris snorted. ‘I’m surprised you let Lucien – or Helion – live.’

Her throat went tight in that familiar way whenever Elain became the topic of conversation. She had been Elain’s voice for a long time, saying the things that Elain was too shy to say. Nesta had taken all of the vitriol for Elain’s thoughts. Just as much as she did, Elain had not wanted fae in their house. She had born the brunt of others’ ire to protect her sister. When she had needed her, her sister had not come for her. ‘Elain is a grown woman. Female. She is quite capable of speaking to Lucien. And quite frankly, if she does not want to spend time with him, I think she’s a fool.’

The eldest Vanserra nodded, eyes still on Nesta in that intense way of his. ‘Lucien is a good male.’

‘And deserves the truth.’

The male frowned. ‘I cannot tell him.’

‘You or your mother must. Helion has realised. Is it not better to come from you two than a male he barely knows?’

It was a heavy burden to carry, Nesta understood, but their feelings paled in comparison to Lucien’s right to honesty. Eris was afraid that it might drive his brother far away again after he had only just started coming home.

‘How long have you known?’

A shy smile appeared on Eris’ face as he toyed with a tassle on one of the ruby cushions. ‘Since he was a boy. I took him into the forest one day with the hounds. I slipped into a bog and he laughed and laughed like I’d never seen from him before. He was a shy, quiet boy, if you’d believe it who rarely left our mother’s side. Light scattered from his skin. He was brighter than the sun. He was glowing. I didn’t know who his father was at first, only that ours were not the same.’ Eris swallowed; eyes distant with the memory. ‘I told mother and all the colour drained from her face. That day, she told me the truth and I made a vow to her that I would protect him – not because he wasn’t a threat to me, but because it put a target on his head from every other Vanserra. I’m not a monster, Nesta. Just like you, I will grow fangs and claws to protect my brother.’

The regret lining Eris’ face was too much for Nesta to bear. She reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his.

‘I had to tread on him, had to suppress his power. It came out through joy. Had to trample him enough that father would never see Lucien for who he truly was. I think he’s subconsciously locked that power away. Even now, when he smiles, there’s no light to be seen. I wonder if I’ve broken a part of him forever.’

As awful as it was, Nesta understood. Eris had made himself the villain to protect Lucien from a greater threat. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, but she understood.

A soft gasp met her ears. 'Congratulations,' Eris said, lifting her hand to inspect the ring on her finger. 'I'm happy for you.'

'Thank you. Cassian has requested an expensive engagement gift.'

Eris dipped his head. 'Of course. I understand that mortal traditions are similar to fae for weddings. Who will walk you down the aisle?'

A stone dropped through her chest into the empty chasm below. Nesta's planning had not got that far yet - but she had no father to give her away to a husband.

'I would like to do it - if you'll have me.'

'You'd walk me down the aisle?'

'Nesta, I'd walk into the gaping maw of Hel for you.'

They decided to talk a turn through the forest on horseback. Baran greeted her with a polite kiss to the hand and helped her to mount a colt then the male followed them at a distance with a crossbow in hand.

‘Is the crossbow a necessity?’ As an heirless high lord, Eris had become more of a target to assailants, but Nesta hated seeing the weapon out of the corner of her eye as if it was trained on her.

‘The forest is vast. Easy to hide in. I caught your shadowsinger sniffing around here a couple of days ago so I’d rather Baran was with us. He’s a good shot. If it hits you, it won’t be an accident,’ Eris winked.

Dogs flanked them too, weaving in and out of trees in a loose formation. Nesta managed to spot Zasha, his lope less disciplined and he was more inclined to pause and sniff at wilting flowers or mushrooms where the others could maintain their focus. Adja, his mother, would bark at him every now and then, bringing him back into line.

‘The tattoo,’ Eris said, bringing his horse alongside hers.

‘The bargain is done. It’s been itching because we breached its parameters.’

‘Then let’s make another one.’

Nesta took in a sharp breath. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘We do not need a deal, Eris. You know that I am your friend and I don’t need to be bound to you to visit.’

His knuckles were white as they gripped the brown, leather reins. ‘Nesta, did you consider the implications of that promise? What it meant for Koschei?’

An oily sluice of horror slipped down her throat. No, she hadn’t. She was juggling a million and one things in her head – and her horrid dream where he’d tried to marry her had not been one of them. It was that bargain with Eris that had saved her. And she’d wished it away.

‘Make another deal with me,’ Eris urged. ‘It will protect you.’

‘And risk you?’

Anger welled up on Eris’ face as he led them past a twisting, ancient oak tree whose branches hung low to the ground. ‘I know what I risk. Let me make a deal with you. I will not let anything happen to you. I have seen you broken, Nesta, and I do not want to see it again.’

Those initial days in his home when she had been adrift. When he had summoned his mother to care for her after the Kelpie had nearly killed her. Yes, Eris had seen her at some of her worst moments.

‘You are high lord now,’ Nesta said firmly. ‘Your court looks to you. If you die, who will rule? Dolos? Not Lucien.’

‘What a stubborn creature you are,’ he frowned.  

It wasn’t something Eris would let go – he could be just as stubborn as she was. Nesta decided to divert the topic onto her plan for the Wall. Eris listened ardently as their horses took them in a loop of the forest, over piles of golden, crunching leaves and a red brick bridge spanning the width of the tremendous river. As expected, Eris had sage advice to offer and bolstered some of her ideas with his own thoughts. She admired how his mind worked; the constant churn of every plan and scheme that he concocted. He agreed to help and planned to meet with Tamlin to investigate the length of the wall in Prythian. It would take a constant dripping of power from each high lord, but some – like Rhys – had such a vast amount that it would regenerate constantly in a careful equilibrium.

When her stomach began to rumble, Eris led her to a table on a balcony overlooking the market for lunch. He complained that his mother wouldn’t even step onto it to feel the sun on her face. Her guilt for her part in Beron’s death was eating her alive.

‘Give her time, Eris.’

‘I was naïve to think that once my father died, the shadow would recede. She’s spent so long in the shade, she prefers it to the sun.’

‘There will be brighter days – for both of you.’

[hardfcclings]

# zasha

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

Wife 💍

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

waking up in vegas

my muse’s last text to your muse

“ which home do you mean by ‘home’ “

cell phone headcanons.

[zashahope]

Flaws and Strengths of Zasha Hope

BOLD  WHAT APPLIES TO YOUR MUSE ITALICIZE SITUATIONAL / UNORTHODOX INTERPRETATIONS

╳   F L A W S

moody  | short-tempered  |  emotionally unstable  |  whiny  |  controlling  | conceited  |  dishonest |  possessive  |  paranoid  |  impatient  |  cowardly  | bitter |  selfish  |  power hungry  |  greedy  |  lazy  | judgmental  |  forgetful | impulsive  |  spiteful  |  stubborn  |  sadistic  |  petty  |  unlucky

♔   S T R E N G T H S

honest  |  trustworthy  |  thoughtful  |  caring  |  brave  |  patient  |  selfless  | ambitious  | tolerant |  lucky  | intelligent  | confident  | focused |  humble  |  generous  |  merciful  | observant |  wise  |  clever  |  charming |  cheerful  | optimistic  |  decisive  |  adaptive  | calm

Tagged by: @ffxivakyi​

Tagging: @repose-and-run​ @antisocialvalk​ @darkestaftermidnight​

[horrorcomeshome]

I keep thinking about Zasha's hyperflexibility and ability to like pop bones out of socket as something akin to a contortionist. Like that is a heightened way of looking at the host's EDS, especially with Zasha purposefully putting themselves in pain to scare people, and when its done, they'd be in absolute agony after.

It's very much coded to me specifically of the horror dance of certain contortionists, most specifically this video

(the video itself goes to 4:25. After that it's more or less response. There's a lot of bone crunchy noises in the video so beware if that squicks you out)

Idk do with this what you will

[constellaris-a]

so due to waning muse for certain characters arising or just a clear lack of interest/interactions,  i’m going to be retiring certain muses from my roster.  those muses are as follows:

albedo,  arlecchino,  artoria,  columbina,  ayana,  camilla,  ei,  kevin,  laslow,  murata,  sara,  setsu,  shenhe and xinya

with that said,  my muse list is now as follows:

     canon muses aether,  al-haitham,  ayaka,  ayato,  byleth (fe3h),  candace,  childe,  dehya,  diluc,  eden (honkai),  eula,  gentaro (hypmic),  hifumi (hypmic),  jean,  kaeya,  kaveh,  kazuha,  kokomi,  lisa,  lumine,  nemu (hypmic),  nilou,  ningguang,  olivia (fea),  shinobu,  thoma,  xiao,  yae miko,  yelan,  zhongli

     headcanon heavy canon muses azhdaha,  capitano,  guizhong,  miss hina,  mikhail,  niwa,  pulcinella,  saiguu,  skirk,  tatiana,  tomo,  yuxin

     original characters ambriel,  botan,  chihiro,  damian,  ephine,  evali,  hotaru,  ichika,  ichirou,  jianyu,  junko,  kiriko,  kiyomi,  leilani,  letitia,  lorelei,  luca,  nari,  nethalia,  nirvaan,  orion,  quinn,  rayan,  rehan,  sonata,  takumi,  tsubaki,  xue,  yulia,  zasha,  zyaire

[thcjackpot]

@cftorch​

Getting into Johnny’s house was pretty easy when no one was home. Typically, the balcony door was open, most likely because both Wanda and Johnny were technically capable of flight. With web slingers, it was a breeze to get into, too, and MJ knew Johnny wouldn’t mind. He did it all the time at both of her homes! It was inevitable that she get him back for it. Once she was inside the apartment, Zasha was immediately jumping up, demanding attention, and MJ noticed another dog, a bulldog, hanging back, watching. On the bright side, it didn’t attack, but on the down side, Johnny had not mentioned another dog. As MJ pet Zasha, ensuring to pay proper attention to the very demanding dog, MJ singlehandedly sent a very strongly worded text message urging Johnny to get the hell back to his apartment.

When he arrived ten minutes later, she gestured to the bulldog dramatically. “Who the hell is this adorable dog? If it’s yours, I’m gonna be so mad, Johnny. You never told me you got a new dog. To repair our friendship, I want you to name him Watson, after me, not the detective dude.” Honestly, MJ had never felt so hurt in their years of friendship. She loved dogs! “And I want custody of Zasha on… Wednesday’s.” As she spoke, she wrinkled her nose at Zasha, and immediately got licked in the face. “I should get a dog, too,” MJ mused.

[theladyofbloodshed]

AU Acosf - Chapter 72

Sorry about the cliffhanger... really :-) Also huge thank you to everybody who has engaged in it. It's made me so happy to know that you all still read it an enjoy it!

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

For the remainder of the day, Nesta was unable to settle herself. A strange, jittery mood had electrified all of her nerves. Beron Vanserra dead. The tattoo on her arm had been throbbing since she had heard the news. She’d wrapped it in a damp cloth, but still her thoughts trailed endlessly to Eris like a pull she could not tear herself away from. Surely, he was high lord. It had to be him. The thought sent warmth spilling through her veins.

There were five sons who the magic could have gone to. Eris seemed the most likely choice, but Lucien was powerful in his own right. She imagined her sister becoming High Lady of the Autumn Court at Lucien’s side; Elain would certainly enjoy the social side of it. It might crush Eris if Lucien became high lord, but there were still other brothers, like Dolos. And the magic could always rebel and choose a different branch of the Autumn Court. Hadn’t Tarquin only been a cousin of his predecessor?

Either way, Nesta was content in the knowledge that Adeline, Eris’ mother, was at least out of her unhappy marriage. She’d endured hell at Beron’s side. At least now, she might flourish once more. Regardless of who sat on the throne next, Eris would protect his mother as he always had.

Nesta stayed close to the window most of the day, only ever leaving her vigil to let Zasha in and out of the house, as she waited for Cassian to return.

It was dark by the time she saw him land near the cabin. She’d felt him coming before she saw him, the bond between them alerting her to his imminent arrival.

‘Did you hear the news?’ She asked as he entered.

Cassian took a long time to unlace his boots then even longer to put them neatly on the rack. ‘About Beron?’

‘Yes.’

Cassian nodded, dark hair sweeping across his face.

‘Eris?’

The male sucked in a sharp breath. ‘High Lord. Of course.’

Something eased inside Nesta once she’d finally heard the confirmation. Eris would protect his mother, would ensure she was always cared for. Perhaps now, Adeline would learn how to smile again. Nesta’s shoulders loosened and the ache in her spine dissolved. She let herself smile then it grew and grew. Eris Vanserra: High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris would be a far better high lord than his father had been – fairer, committed. Still, he would need a good council around him, one that wanted the best interests for the court rather than their own ambition. He’d handle it. He likely already had assembled his own council long before his father’s passing. Politics was a game that Eris invented the rules for. He knew how to play and how to win.

‘Has it been announced how Beron died?’

Cassian moved past her, heading for the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he said, ‘Died in his sleep.’

‘Is he old enough for that? Was he sick?’

There would be other factors at play. But Nesta was smart enough to keep her mouth shut and not share any of her musings about Beron’s death.

When Nesta went to slice bread for Cassian’s dinner, he took the knife from her hand and did it himself. She stroked the length of his arm then settled a hand on his back. Her cheek rested against him.

‘Are you alright? You seem upset.’

There was none of the usual delight in seeing her, no affection, no greeting. Iron Crest was worse than Windhaven, she knew. If the males were worse than the Windhaven ones, Nesta could not imagine the sorts of insults that had been thrown at Cassian all day. He’d been reluctant to share anything with her on the previous days he’d spent there, maybe to protect her from whatever misery he’d endured there.

‘Just tired.’

His eyes shut briefly when she traced a thumb along his cheekbone. Nesta pushed his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

‘I’ll run you a bath. Lule has decimated most of the bottles you and Mor bought though, sorry.’

Nesta couldn’t shake the feeling that Cassian was lying to her. The coldness seeping from him towards her wasn’t usual. It was the General of the Night Court who came out in the Hewn City standing in the kitchen, feet planted, wings rigid, rather than the playful, affectionate male she was used to.

Cassian, at least, let her stay in the bathroom with him while he washed. Even if he was angry, he didn’t mind her seeing him naked. The muscles of his arm bulged as he lowered himself into the tub, the Illyrian ink tempted her to run her tongue over it, but she resisted.  

‘Bad day?’ She hedged.

‘I’ve had better,’ he replied shortly, groaning as he stretched his legs out in the bubbly water.

‘Let me wash your hair. You relax.’

Nesta racked her brains trying to figure out what she had done wrong. Even when he’d had terrible days in Illyria, he always managed to put it on a shelf and forget about it around her. Then, she realised who else was angry with her.

‘I suppose Feyre let Rhys know about our disagreement.’

She tilted Cassian’s head back to pour a jug of water over his black hair. His mouth was flattened into a grim line.

‘Yes.’

‘How soon after leaving did she tell him?’

‘Does it matter?’

Nesta lathered the shampoo, massaging his scalp. She was still gentle with him. The argument wasn’t about their bond anymore; it was the constant meddling by others that she was frustrated by. ‘I don’t like that anything I say to my sister is never private.’

‘They’re mates,’ said Cassian flatly. ‘They share everything. I’ll wash the rest of me. Don’t worry about it.’  

Well and truly dismissed, she thought, as she rose from her knees and departed the bathroom. Her jabs at Feyre’s role in the Court were cruel but accurate. Nesta still had not learnt when to hold her tongue. She had never regretted the rare time she remained silent. Feyre and Elain had never been exposed to the same scrutiny as Nesta had. Her sister’s role as high lady had never been criticised or examined. Perhaps it wasn’t Nesta’s place to do it.

Nesta pushed down her irritation. The frustration was not directed at Cassian. He had just been caught in the cross fire of two warring sisters once more.

In the bedroom, Nesta stripped down to a slinky chemise that she knew would drive Cassian wild and waited for him to return.

When Cassian entered the bedroom with a fluffy towel slung around his hips, Nesta let out a laugh. ‘Yellow is definitely your colour, general.’

He only grunted in response and rifled through the wardrobe without a comment to her own dress.

‘Why are you putting clothes on? I thought you had big plans with me for tonight?’

She crawled along the bed to trail two fingers up his back. Nesta reached around to his front, her hand cupping his length as a sign that she was ready when he was.   

Cassian moved her hand from his body. ‘I’m tired tonight.’

It was difficult to hide her disbelief. Cassian could be on his death bed and still find energy for that. Shame prickled in her cheeks for daring to take the first step – and for being rejected by him.

‘Well, I’ll just put Zasha out for a final time. We can have an early night together. Do you want a hot drink before bed?’

‘No.’

A few rogue tears escaped Nesta when she waited at the back door for Zasha to go about his business. Feyre was Cassian’s High Lady – she had his allegiance. Yet, she had hoped he might be able to parse through the sibling argument and not be swayed by either side. The cold, aloofness reminded her too much of her parents and how desperate Nesta had been to carve a piece of their love for herself. Or perhaps he regretted living with Nesta already. Her presence in his home was so detestable he wanted to drive her out.

Despite his refusal, Nesta made him a tea anyway and settled it on his bedside table before she slipped into the sheets beside him. She kissed his shoulder but it was met with a wall of ice.

‘What happens when a high lord dies?’

‘Depends on the court.’

That made sense, she supposed. Different courts kept different traditions. Mortals had so few traditions, but funerals were sombre affairs draped in black and woe.

‘Who was the last high lord to pass away?’

Cassian shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as if he was completely disinterested in the conversation. ‘Three were killed by Amarantha. Before that, not sure. It doesn’t happen often.’

‘And when they died was there are a funeral? A coronation for the new high lord?’

‘I don’t know. Amarantha probably dumped their bodies and the new ones – Helion, Kallias and Tarquin – just had to muddle along with their new powers. I’m going to sleep.’

‘Do you mind if I read a little? I’m too distracted thinking about the Autumn Court to sleep yet.’

‘Do what you want. Night.’

One more time, Nesta leaned over Cassian’s big body to kiss him goodnight. There was no response from him like kissing a plank of wood. The mug of tea remained untouched on his bedside table. He turned onto his side, facing the wall so his broad wings blocked him off from view.

When the first rays of light pierced the window, Nesta was vaguely aware of Cassian rising from the bed. She expected him to lean over to kiss her temple or to pull the duvet up over her bare shoulder. Instead, his steps echoed down the wooden stairs, the penultimate one creaking under his weight.

She must have drifted off again, but when Nesta awoke once more, expecting Cassian back beside her, he was not there. Zasha was curled up on the couch once she’d ambled down stairs. His tail thumped against the cushion in greeting then he dragged himself onto the floor. On the table, there lay a hastily scrawled note.

Gone to Velaris.

***

Insecurities chased Cassian all the way to Velaris as soon as the dawn arrived.

Once they’d caught wind of Beron’s death in Iron Crest the day earlier, Rhys had winnowed them back to the city for an emergency meeting. Az’s spies had set out at once to discover if Eris was truly the newest High Lord of the Autumn Court. They’d sat in a nervous silence until confirmation came. It was the best outcome. They’d already made covert ties with Eris plus he had laid the groundwork for his own rule.

It didn’t mean Cassian felt any joy at the news. A sickness settled in his gut. Nesta Archeron could live in a cabin in Illyria with a bastard brute or become the wife of a High Lord. It wouldn’t take her long to realise where the better offer lay. She was far too clever – too brilliant – to be content with a quaint life in the rugged mountains. Hadn’t she ensnared a duke at fourteen?

‘We’ll need to pay our respects,’ Rhys said, crossing an ankle over his knee.

‘Not a single person will feel any grief that Beron is gone,’ Mor replied. For once, she seemed dulled. There was a paleness to her skin, a lack of magic in her eyes. Her blonde hair hung limply around her face and past her shoulders. She’d opted for comfort rather than glamour – which was terribly unlike her.

‘We will also have to give our well wishes to the new High Lord.’

Mor had grimaced at the thought of bending the knee to Eris. Azriel had only glowered from his post in the corner.

‘When can we expect him to poach Nesta to his council?’ Amren said, drumming her painted fingernails on the table.

Cassian’s pulse had quickened at the thought. Amren had struck true – and the thought terrified him.

Mor shuddered, ‘Eris acting out orders and Nesta whispering them to him.’

Rhys let out a laugh. ‘He’s such a snake. Clever, but a snake through and through.’ At the quizzical looks around the room, Rhys clasped his hands together. ‘Who positioned Nesta in the Spring Court? A training exercise by Eris to gain experience which she excelled at. Lucien says that Eris can always find an advantage. Nesta truly was brilliant at leading in the Spring Court. I would be surprised if Eris does not want her on his council.’

‘Hate the male, Rhysand, but he always finds a way to come out on top.’ Amren said, shaking her head.

They had shuffled out of the room, Amren swearing that the magic had picked wrong and it ought to be Lucien. Her and Mor laughed about killing Eris off to ensure Lucien took the throne next as they departed down a corridor. Az bowed his head, disappearing into shadow on whatever errand Rhys had sent him on.

‘What’s wrong, Feyre darling?’

Feyre, who had been silent and tense, blurted out the whole story that she and Nesta had quarrelled once more – this time over Cassian’s mating bond. He’d wondered himself why she still hadn’t accepted it, but hadn’t wanted to share his fears. She’d had choice words for Feyre too about her role in the Night Court. It put Cassian in a difficult position; Nesta had done much more in Spring, pulling the court from the debris, than Feyre had. But one was his mate and the other his High Lady. When her bottom lip began to wobble, Cassian took that as his sign to fly home.  

When he’d arrived home and Nesta’s first words had been about Eris, how she couldn’t sleep because he dominated her thoughts, Cassian’s feelings were broken into painful shards. What could he offer her compared to a High Lord? He could barely look at her, couldn’t take her kindness, when he knew she would leave him.

Cassian had felt guilty to not wake Nesta with a kiss or breakfast, to leave like a coward, but he had to get out of that cabin. She slept peacefully in his bed and he couldn’t chase the fear that it would be one of the last times she shared his bed. Nesta hadn’t moved to Illyria for him; she had moved there because her powers were dangerous and it was the place where she could cause least damage.

The sun climbed higher in the sky making the Sidra gleam like molten gold running through Velaris. Cassian sat on the edge of the House of Wind, feet dangling over the city. Rhys materialised in the air then surged forwards the last few feet with a burst of his wings. He joined him on the ledge, stretching his face up towards the sun.

‘Why aren’t you spending your well-earned day off with your mate?’

‘She hasn’t accepted the bond.’

Rhys rolled his eyes. ‘Nesta is still your mate.’

Cassian snorted, unable to look at Rhys. ‘For how long? How long until she’s announced as the lady of the Autumn Court.’

The air around them turned cold. Rhys’ gaze branded against his skin as he inspected him. ‘She’s leaving?’

‘Not yet. But she will. Amren’s right. What can I offer compared to a High Lord? Eris makes no secret about how much he desires her. Probably why she won’t accept the bond - she was just waiting until Eris took the throne.'

He thought Rhys would agree to an extent, but Rhys only frowned.

‘What exactly has Nesta said to make you think this way?’

‘Nothing,’ he admitted. ‘She was just buzzed by the news.’

It hadn’t only been that, he realised with shame. She had cuddled up to him in the kitchen, tried to help him with dinner, ran him a bath, washed his hair, tried to take him to bed and he’d refused her, refused to even engage or acknowledge her because he was so wrapped up in his thoughts of rejection, terrified that Eris would steal her away. Cassian had closed himself off from her kindness as if to buffer her imagined departure.

‘Then I think a lot of this is your own worries with no evidence behind it, Cass.’ Rhys spread out his hands then laughed. ‘She looked soft yesterday. Never thought I’d say that about Nesta Archeron. She was happy with those children, happy for you to slobber over her face. It was natural, you two there together. It felt like a proper home.’ Rhys ruffled his ink-black hair, giving his city a sweeping gaze. 'Nesta was brilliant in Spring. Her drive and initiative was formidable. But she did not choose to be there. So many of the things in her life, she has never chosen. But she chose to move to Illyria with you. Don't chase her away because you're scared.'

Cassian groaned. ‘I just know Eris will take a shot every single time he sees her. He will want her on his council, Rhys, if not more from her. And I can’t even punch him now that he’s High Lord.’

‘You’ll have to get in line behind Az. Besides, you did stab him in the gut a couple of years ago.'

They remained in silence. His brother realised that Cassian just needed someone to sit beside him for a while. It was difficult to shake his poor start in life. Those formative years had eternally damaged a part of him. The shield he wore against the insults from high fae and other Illyrians had taken enough hits over the years. Every bit of kindness ever shown to him always felt like it was out of pity, because someone felt sorry for the little boy all alone in winter in the mountains.

‘Cass,’ Rhys said gently, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘We do need to go to Autumn today to pay our respects. It's tradition. We can’t leave it any longer. It looks disrespectful. It can be an unstable time with a new, untried high lord. I promise, you can have that proper day off tomorrow. Take Nesta to the Steppes. Romance her.’

***

Pangs of irritation came frequently as the morning went by. Cassian had just upped and left, leaving a measly note rather than waking her to let her know. Nesta’s mind had run riot. Had there been another issue? Was someone in trouble? Hurt?

The isolation that Nesta had sought in the small cabin tucked away against the hills was more of a prison now she had no way of contacting anybody. She could return to Windhaven, but what good would it do? She could speak with Emerie and share her fears that Cassian had sudden cold feet about their shared living arrangement or that she feared his commitment to his court far outweighed his commitment to her. No, it would be too pathetic to go bleating to Emerie, even if her friend would listen and comfort.

A knock sounded at the door. Zasha did not even bark, merely flicked his tail lazily from his spot on the rug as Nesta stepped over him. She’d been sifting through the books Helion had let her borrow, but even that had not been able to hold her attention.

Through the blurred glass of the front door, Nesta could make out a tall figure – but no wings. Cautiously, she prised the door back an inch or two, ready to slam it and lock if the need arose.

A head of auburn hair that curled by the temples peered back at her. The male let out a relieved noise and broke into a smile.

‘Baran?’

‘Thank the Mother. I knocked on the wrong door - twice.’

‘My goodness. I’ve not seen you for a long time.’

‘Not since you couldn’t walk in a straight line in the Summer Court, my lady.’

Nesta winced at that memory but ushered the male into the cabin all the same. Over his fawn-coloured breeches, he wore a jacket of deep burgundy branded with the Vanserra family crest – higher in status than the pleasant male who’d taught her to ride a horse in the grounds of Eris’ home.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said, leading him into the kitchen. It seemed the right thing to say, even if she did not truly believe the sentiment. He refused a drink or anything to eat, just smiled politely so the dimple in his cheek stood out.

Baran, with his polished Autumn Court manners, drew a chair for her and ensured she was tucked back into the table before he joined her. A box was placed between them on the table. Nesta hoped it wasn’t Beron’s head.

‘You have heard that Eris has become high lord?’

‘I wouldn’t have expected otherwise,’ she replied.

A look of pride came over Baran’s features. A male who had been loyal to Eris, not Beron. Yes, Nesta was sure he was happy with Eris’ ascension.

‘We burn our dead in the Autumn Court. At sundown, Beron’s body will be set upon a pyre where his ashes will be scattered to the four corners of our court.’ Baran settled a hand atop the box. ‘Eris has asked if you would attend.’

A stone dropped through Nesta’s stomach. She knew Eris, knew him too well. He would gain something by her attending but she wouldn’t know until it was too late to take it back. Yet, at the same time, he had lost his father. The relationship they shared was as strained and torturous as her own with her father. There would be grief, anger, relief – too many feelings to sift through and understand. Eris needed a friend.

‘Certainly.’

Long fingers prised the lid from the box. ‘And he has asked if you could wear this.’

‘Did he now?’ She said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Him and his obsession with fashion.’

Baran gave her a reproachful smile. ‘He said you don’t often wear black, despite your allegiance. It’s one of Adeline’s. She selected it for you.’

It was a simple gown with a square-cut neckline. Swathes of sable material would sweep the floor and she could bury her hands in the long sleeves. It was a plain dress meant for mourning rather than anything ostentatious. There was no crest of two baying hounds, no colours that signified the Autumn Court. It was a safe dress to wear – but that Adelina Vanserra had chosen it made something squirm uncomfortably inside of Nesta.

‘You’re not a daemati are you?’

Although puzzled, Baran shook his head. ‘My talents lie in winnowing and horses, I’m afraid.’

There had to be a way to pass a message along to Cassian, but Nesta had no other options. Emerie couldn’t fly her to Velaris. The wards would not allow Baran to winnow to a city few knew about. Cassian had left her a scrap of parchment informing her of his whereabouts, she supposed she could return the favour. On the back, she wrote she would be visiting Eris for Beron’s final moments then hurried to change.

A niggling feeling of guilt wouldn’t go away as she re-braided her hair in the mirror. Cassian would surely find fault in her decision to go to Eris – if not him then one of his family. Perhaps it was rash. She gripped the edge of the sink. Nesta was allowed friends, even ones Cassian didn’t particularly like. She did like Eris. Conniving and slippery, but brilliant and caring when he wanted to be. And the male had lost his father; she knew the feeling well.

Before departing, Nesta squeezed another line onto the bottom of the note she left for Cassian saying only two words: love you.

[andrasteschosenfew]

Shorthand descriptions of the muses you’ll find here: 

Zasha Trevelyan

The definition of a tender heart. Zasha is a pure hearted leader who lives by the code that death is never the way. She shows mercy whenever possible, believes there’s always a better option, that people can change. Losing those who rely on her is like losing a part of herself and strangers are just friends she hasn’t yet met. 

Looks like a cinnamon roll - is actually a cinnamon roll.

Hethryn Adaar

Tal Vashoth. Hornless Saarebas. Fear can do as much damage as a blade, can fracture trust and leave young ones cold to the world. Hethryn is quiet, inquisitive and gentler than she lets on at first. She is slow to trust, but passionate and feels every emotion so much stronger than she lets on. A scared little girl trapped in a fearsome qunari body.

Looks like she could kill you - is actually a cinnamon roll. 

Eridis Lavellan

Witty and sarcastic, Eridis’ tongue is as sharp as any blade. When you first meet her, she seems serious, with thin, narrowed eyes. But when you look closer, you see the bright gold color, the way the lower lid curls up, a constant, playful smile. She’s a good judge of character and fiercely protective of her friends. 

Looks like she could kill you - could actually kill you.

Jannah Cadash

The world is harsh and Jannah accepts that. If the only way to get by is with a quick arrow and a sly smirk, she’s more than happy to oblige. She’s harsh and makes jokes that don’t always fall right. She doesn’t trust magic because she can’t understand it, but will defend any mage simply because they’re PEOPLE. She takes betrayal very personally. 

Looks like a cinnamon roll - could actually kill you.

Cassandra Pentaghast

‘Courtesy is a lady’s armor.’ Except ARMOR is a lady’s armor. Cassandra is harsh in her words but soft in her thoughts, determined not to be the delicate princess so many believed she should be. But a romantic heart and unwavering faith fill her chest. She lives in black and white but sees the world in vivid color.

Looks like she could kill you -  so don’t give her a reason. She doesn’t want to.

[iim-bangalore-blog]

IIM BANGALORE TO HOST ROUND TABLE ON CREATIVE SUSTAINABILITY ON JANUARY 22

The round table, led by Prof. A. Damodaran, will feature Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Girish Kasaravalli, Alarmel Valli, Sanjna Kapoor, Anmol Vellani, Sharon Lowen, Zasha Colah, Pawan Kumar and Vipin Vijay

20 January, 2017, Bengaluru: IIM Bangalore will host a round table on ‘Creative Sustainability: As Artistes See It’ on January 22 (Sunday), 2017, at the campus on Bannerghatta Road. The workshop, led by Prof. A. Damodaran, the IPR Chair at IIMB, proposes to bring together film directors, leading performing artists, actors and other thought leaders.

The focus of the workshop is on how films and other visual arts, that include classical performing arts, can contribute to the idea of creative sustainability. The workshop will discuss the idea of creative sustainability as artists see it, perspectives of directors and artistes on sustainability in performing arts and cinema (both minimalist and non-minimalist), the role of minimalism in realizing the goal of creative sustainability, if a synthesis of both strands promises a more decisive move towards creative sustainability, how innovative creative organizations can strive to make a transformative difference, if technology promotes creativity and creative sustainability, if creation is a matter of expression or that of essence, and how creative organizations can survive and contribute to the sustainability agenda.

A panel of distinguished speakers will discuss ‘Musings on Creative Approaches to Sustainability’. The speakers include Padma Shri awardee and acclaimed director, screenwriter, producer Adoor Gopalakrishnan, award-winning film director Girish Kasaravalli, Padma Bhushan awardee and Indian classical dancer and choreographer Alarmel Valli, actor and theatre personality Sanjna Kapoor, art historian and curator Zasha Colah, Founder and former Executive Director India Foundation for the Arts Anmol Vellani, Odissi danseuse Sharon Lowen, actor, director and screenwriter Pawan Kumar, and award-winning film maker and screenwriter Vipin Vijay. Prof. A. Damodaran will moderate the panel.

The day’s highlights include a documentary, ‘Door to Adoor’, by Girish Kasaravalli. Theatre personality Sanjna Kapoor will speak on ‘Spinning Creative Ventures: The Junoon Saga’. There will be a kathakali performance by Margi, an organisation dedicated to the revival of kathakali and kutiyattom, through the Gurukula system of training.

Click here for the agenda

Visit @ IIM Bangalore

[zashahope]

What is love? It is not a feeling to be controlled and devoured by. It is a emotion but love is also a choice. In the idealist mind, a partner loves their spouce with their whole being. They love through pain and suffering, through sickness and in health and never faulter as their spouce recieves that love with grace and graditude. They hold it lovingly and return love with love of equal measure. And their love multiples to three or four or many more bundles of love to greet the world. But the realist knows this is not true. Infatuation is passion that explodes one moment but fades the next. The choice to stay with the people you care about is what we call love. Love is choosing to withstand the pain. Choosing to suffer. Choosing to stay with someone in sickness and in health. Love is a choice that if we give too freely, give too willingly. It corrupts and destroys. Breaks us and frays us until these is nothing left but bitterness and hurt. Love is a choice we must make to know when to give and when to recieve. It’s knowing that if you choose to love, sometimes you must, for your own pyshce or the well being of another, from a distance. The ultimate choice is when all the passion passes and the magic of attraction fades, is to love and stand by the people you care about and accept them for all the bad equal to all of their good. Because love is choice that changes not just your world but the world of your partner. Make the right choices. - The Ideal musing of Zasha Hope

[horrorcomeshome]

Headcanon: Zasha

Zasha’s host had EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndome), but Zasha doesn’t know this. It exists with the chronic pain with no name, and it will exert its body to much. The horror of his strange movements come from the fact that the body is half dead, and the horror of not knowing what ails you. He is NOT meant to turn a genuine thing into body horror fodder. This can and probably at some point will be explained seriously and played as genuine medical plot. But no matter what, I’m going to try to keep myself well researched about him.