#promiseofspring
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He watches her scream into the mountains like she could shatter the sky. Like her voice might crack the stone beneath their feet. And all he can think —mother above—is that she is fire. Not the soft, flickering candlelight she pretends to be. No, Elain’s anger burns like a wildfire, wild, untamed, and glorious. She doesn't see it yet, doesn't realize the strength in that fury. But he does. He knows it well. It almost matches his. When his life had been stripped from him. Jesminda. But it was not a person that Elain has lost, but herself.
Lucien steps closer, just enough for his voice to carry. Low. Barely more than a breath. “You think I don’t understand.” He pauses. “But I do.”
Lucien knows he cannot disappear and leave her here, not like this, not when every fiber of him thrums with the instinct to reach for her. But his heart aches with the weight of what she’s said—of all the things she’s been made to endure, and all the choices taken from her before she ever had the chance to make them.
His voice roughens, and he meets her eyes, amber glinting with something ancient and aching. “…You can break the bond, Elain.” The words fall between them like a stone. Honest. “If it’s one less chain around your throat, then I’ll find a way to live with it.” His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “I’ve lived with worse.”
Lucien keeps going, even though it hurts. Especially because it hurts. “I don’t see the bond as a curse. I never have. Not once.” His eyes search the horizon, as if it could hold the answer. “But I know what it is to feel trapped inside something you never chose. And if this thing between us feels like a prison to you then it’s not worth anything, not really.”
A pause. The breeze carries the smell of pine, of moss and distant fog. "If this bond is the thing keeping you from seeing yourself, then burn it. I’ll manage.” He takes one final step closer. “Your freedom matters more than my hope. I can live with losing you, Elain. But I can’t live with being another hand that cages you....And trust me, Elain — The Night Court is just another cage too.” Because he saw it, even if she didn't. Elain had the same fire he did. And she didn't want it.
Lucien’s scent floods her senses as he pulls her closer, and her fingers betray her as it tightens around the front of his shirt. her cheeks burn at the warmth of his palm cradling the back of her head, and she has to bite down the traitorous urge to lean into him, to let herself be held for just�� a moment longer. Elain presses her eyes shut as he winnows them away, and it takes her a heartbeat too long to release her grip on his shirt — quickly stumbling backward when her good senses catches up to her as though those extra seconds of contact might brand her.
and then — her anger returns, demanding to be acknowledged, “ you want to know what vexes me? ” Elain snaps, eyes blazing. “ my whole life —- my entire life was decided for me. all I was ever good for, in my mother’s eyes, was marriage, love. a pretty future arranged behind closed doors, that was my worth. ”
“ and I told myself that was fine. if I couldn’t choose who I got to be, then maybe I could still choose who to give myself to. if mother wanted to parade me before lords like a prized broodmare, then at the very least, I could powder my lips pale so I’d look too sickly to dance. that was mine! ” back then, it had felt like the only power she had: a harmless, rebellious act in a life carefully crafted by others. it was hers, a way to reclaim choice when everything else had been decided for her. and now, even that feels like it belongs to someone else, a girl who once believed that faking a headache could count as control.
“ but now with this bond, even that’s gone —- even that choice is no longer mine. ”
“ do you know how helpless it feels? to spend your life being told who you are, what you're meant for —-- and then the one thing you thought you could still claim as your own, the who, the heart of it, is taken by some magical, ancient law you don’t understand?! ”
for a moment, it seems like Elain might keep screaming at him —- but instead, she spins toward the mountain’s edge. a wordless, guttural scream rips from her throat, carrying with it all her rage and helplessness into the wind. her arms stretch wide as she screams again, louder this time, until her voice echoes off the distant peaks. the mountain breeze whips through her hair, and with her eyes squeezed shut, she feels weightless —- like she might take flight on the wings of her own fury.
and for the first time in a long time, Elain feels blissfully free.
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“would you believe me if I said i've got to save the city?” // for laerion ! // @promiseofspring
The sea swallows the little hum that tickles his throat. It's a sound of acknowledgment, as if she could miss being the center of his attention. Looming, leaning forward against the rope he holds, he's studying her. In the shadow of the Queen Rhae.nys, those appraising eyes might as well be black.
"I would say you have your work cut out for you," Laerion confirms. "How coincidental, that you must save the city by leaving it... No doubt stowed away on some ship... Headed right out of port within the hour." Amusement is a burr on his tongue, a shift in the boom of his voice. How ignoble it would be of him, to deny the lady her quest. How easily exploited he would be, if he was a man of honor.
Certainly. no one has ever accused him of being that. It's the scent of him, really. The courts of his homeland could never trust a thing taken by the sea without drowning. He smells of impossibility to them.
As for his look, it must be mighty easy. Otherwise, why him? Idly loosening the rope, he begins to twine it around a hand bigger than some heads. At last, he looks away from her, back to the horizon. Black and silver hair catches in the wind, a peculiar sight given his apparent youth.
It sits so at odds with the honey curls sprouting off her own head. Little thing, about the size of his nieces. Stop that, he cautions himself. That way leads to absolute surrender --
"Doubtful I'm heading in the direction of your grand quest."
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when he came to this town injured, less the man he'd been, and all alone – the last thing he expected was to make an acquaintance. he won't call her friend just yet. not when he's made all the nonverbal signs of wishing to be left alone to his little garden he's been working on, but over a short amount of time she's made her presence a recurring thing. he won't say she's someone he's grown to care for, not when when he felt forced to lay a chair our for her while he works, when responses had been mere grunts or stares, but now he speaks to her freely. no, he won't even admit that he's grown used to her presence, that perhaps he even looks forward to these moments.
this afternoon is different than most. criston had learned that some of his grown crops had been invaded by small creatures. to which the man had had spoken, ❝ i must kill these creatures. ❞ before what he's grown (instead of destroyed) with his own two hands is brought to ruin by small animals.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“what good would killing do, when mercy ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤis a skill more of this world could learn ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤto use?” - @promiseofspring
brows furrow at elain's response. moments pass and he's rendered incapable of speaking. he wants to tell her the truth: of who he had been, of all the sins he'd committed. would she still visit him if she knew the man he'd left behind to the war? could she look him in the eye the same if she knew how much blood stained his hands? dark gaze casts low to his garden. the one good thing that had come from him. ❝ do you look down on those who would kill? ❞
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there is a part of him that can't help but to feel as though she's hiding something. he's ever the observant one and has been keen to realize how rather against elain has been about his journey from sunspear to king's landing. they say a young baratheon king is set to marry a tyrell — the martells have been invited and in his brother's place, oberyn has accepted. (he believes it would give him the perfect opportunity to kill the mountain.) but since his announcement of his acceptance — and being so loose lipped around the other with his schemes, she has come up with every rhyme and reason as to why he shouldn't.
if she says he could die, he says death is not yet ready to claim him. if she believes him to be making a mistake, he believes he's making the most important decision a man could make in avenging his sister. and so – he carries on with his plan to go.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ'𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 … 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.' ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ@promiseofspring
❝ it is not my pride i hold true to. but my sister. ❞ for why should the mountain continue to breathe after the atrocities he'd committed? after he'd taken from oberyn his elia and her children. ❝ i will go for my family. my mind has been made up. ❞
#promiseofspring#ʳᵉ : oberyn martell / interactions.#i hope it's okay to assume elain was in dorne even if in passing! :')#we can always chat about how long they've known one another but at the very least they're familiar at this point.
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𝔭. ▐ ⊰ ' ❛ i don't need advice right now , just a friend to listen. ❜ -- @promiseofspring
a bittersweet little hmph is given as she crosses her arms on the edge of the pool of starlight , violet eyes gazing up at the spring incarnate before her with the faintest of smiles curving her lips. ❛ you'll find i make a great listener. i've spent centuries doing nothing but listening. ❜ it has been a lonely time for her – the spring court was not as populated as velaris , especially not in the woods here. most of her companionship has been woodland creatures – fae were far &* few between , &* even then she could not be known. so she listened – waited for azriel to be able to respond to her thoughts so very far away. waited even longer for him to be able to visit. elain joining as the second person to know of her existence here has been most welcome. ❛ besides . . . what advice do i have to give ? i imagine i'd be quite out of touch. ❜
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“my dreams grow darker.” - for Azriel
❛ i've lived in darkness longer than most people have drawn breath. ❜ Azriel speaks gently, keeping a respectable distance from her. He doesn't reach for her, doesn't waver an inch, but the pull he feels to do exactly that is strong. He wants to be near her, to coax the darkness. To show Elain that some shadows mean her no harm. ❛ i can't chase away your nightmares, but the shadows … they listen and they linger. ❜ One of his shadows curls around his wrist as if summoned by his words. Wisp-like and curious. It stretches in her direction, slowly, as though asking for permission.
❛ they've followed me into worse things than sleep. if you let them, they'll stay with you tonight. they can keep the worst of the dreams at bay. ❜
#promiseofspring#hehe <3#i just love az yapping about his shadows#i could go on forever !!!#i hope this is ok...#<3#re: azriel ; ic.
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❛ We all carry things inside us that no one else can see. ❜ for cassian !
INBOX PROMPTS ╱ 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

“Some things can be seen easier than others.”
His was an open wound. The bastard son of an Illyrian nobody, a mongrel beaten down at every turn, spat upon by those who thought him unworthy of even the dirt beneath their boots. And yet, he stood. He clawed his way from nothing, defied every hand that tried to shove him back into the dust. That he was here at all, that he had become something more than what they had decreed for him, was almost laughable.
It was why his loyalty would forever be bound to the Night Court. Rhysand had not looked at him and seen filth. Had not judged him for the shame stitched into his lineage. He had given Cassian something rare—respect. Not out of pity, nor obligation, but simply because it was right. It was also why he understood the sisters so well. Their desperation, their survival, and sinking to that low place; still somehow to find their way out. He got it.
“We can try to bury our ugly little truths, pretend they don’t fester beneath our skin. But sooner or later, they crawl their way to the surface. Others have found a way to smell it on us. We’re not like them. Still, we’re standing. Still breathing. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
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Tropical neighbours are a hint of summer warmth ☺️ #palmtrees #promiseofspring #seasons (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzfTyBpg4FJ/?igshid=vr1fjekbnn9m
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Forgot to post this yesterday... I cannot wait for leaves 🌿🌳 #leafbuds #springvibes🌸 #donmills #promiseofspring (at Don Mills) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ccb0estFr81/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Feyre, with her own glint in her gaze, held a smile on her face as her cup touched her lips. Clearly avoiding Elain's pointed look. Of course they both know what she was doing.
Feeling her lips widen in a smile, Feyre felt overly confident in the moment. Elain, sitting there, innocently as if they both didn't know what she meant by 'other things'. If Elain thought Feyre would back off, she'd double down. After all . . .It seemed out of all of them, she'd adapted to fae customs the quickest, and what better way to show that then embarrass and tease her— until Elain beats her to the punch. "Elain!" Feyre placed her cup down, staring at her older sister as if trying to ascertain the truth.
"Well? I'll grab the brandy and then it is an appropriate conversation for tea" Feyre is ready to get up, her hands braced on the chair until the atmosphere around them shifts. "Oh" Feyre watches her sister, in a way that seems so different than when she first arrived. Elain was no longer a ghost of herself, with Lucien she was...alive. But it wasn't just that, was it?
Feyre slowly lowered herself back into her seat, studying the way Elain’s fingers curled gently around her teacup, the way her lips pressed together—not in hesitation, but in something softer, something almost wistful. "Elain" Her face was bright, her voice was warm, and Feyre couldn't believe it. “You love him,” Feyre said, not as a question, but as something inevitable, something that made their news to her all the harder.
Feyre reached across the table, covering Elain’s hand with her own. “Don't you?" and there, in the soft glow of the afternoon light, Feyre saw it—the quiet, undeniable truth of it all. Even if Elain didn't see it yet. A love that had been waiting, a bond neither of them had spoken of outright, but one that had rooted itself so deeply that even Elain could no longer ignore it.
And so Feyre only smiled, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze before leaning back with a knowing look. “Still think it’s not appropriate conversation for tea?”
elain shoots feyre a look, half exasperated and half amused. with a knowing tilt of her head, she narrows her eyes – i see exactly what you’re doing.
she can feel the roles between them shifting; feyre speaks of the mating bond with such familiarity and a certainty that makes her feels . . . younger somehow. less sure of herself and where she stands in all of this. feyre’s teasing should make her scoff, dismiss it outright - like any older sister would when prodded about her love life. but instead she hesitates, caught between wanting to deflect and wanting to talk about it.
elain takes a slow sip of her tea, tilting her head as if in deep thought, “ other . . . things? ” she arches her brow, feigning innocence in her tone. then, with a dramatic sigh she sets her cup down gently, “ oh, feyre . . . you wouldn’t believe me if i told you about lucien’s fire . . . ” she let her words hang just long enough before exhaling as though burdened by some great, scandalous knowledge, “ it’s hardly proper conversation for tea, don’t you think? ”
but the moment doesn’t last; elain’s teasing smile softens, turning wistful at the mere mention of lucien being here. her gaze absently drifts to the very same window her sister’s caught her looking through too many times since they sat down for tea. you look like you’re in love, elain. the words linger and elain does not refute them.
“ i wish i could have brought him back with me, ” she admits softly, tracing the rim of her now empty tea cup. “ if i hadn’t left in such a hurry . . . i would have. ”
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Posted @withregram • @christinastapperphotography I don't' know about all of you, but I'm glad to have had a chance to have taken a 'pause button' with my family. This past year has been rough, especially as a self-employed entrepreneur, but I have routinely chosen to 'look at the positive' as a practice. I know this might sound cliche or trite, but for me and my family, it has been a way of addressing things that we truly love and are grateful for and to make sure we are paying it forward. That being said, I am looking forward to saying goodbye to winter, and embracing the promise of spring, new life, and new adventures. Praying you and your loved ones are safe and healthy. Peace friends! Hope springs eternal, and I look forward to family sessions outdoors with flowers, green grass and sunshine! "Pass along the value of empathy to our children. Not sympathy, but empathy—the ability to stand in somebody else's shoes; to look at the world through their eyes." Barack Obama #springphotos #family #familyiseverything #familylife #bestlife #photography #photosession #spring #hopespringseternal #spring #newlife #life #photographer #photosessions #familyphotography #promise #promiseofspring #hope #life #people #portraitphotography #ilovemyjob #trees #blues https://www.instagram.com/p/CMhNiFDlk60/?igshid=ikfh8lj8dqn7
#springphotos#family#familyiseverything#familylife#bestlife#photography#photosession#spring#hopespringseternal#newlife#life#photographer#photosessions#familyphotography#promise#promiseofspring#hope#people#portraitphotography#ilovemyjob#trees#blues
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The Promise of Spring - Daffodil - Eureka Springs, Arkansas #eurekasprings #eurekaparks #onlyineureka #promiseofspring #daffodils #arkansas #photo #visualsoflife #photography #artgallery #artcollector #rebelsroam #artquenchmagazine #travelphotography #photooftheday #inspiration #beautiful #colorpop #fineartphotography #memorspiritus - @artsy_takeover @cypart @tonyshafrazi @tanyabonakdargallery @lagnyc @mboeskygallery
#daffodils#artgallery#promiseofspring#fineartphotography#onlyineureka#arkansas#beautiful#artcollector#rebelsroam#colorpop#photooftheday#memorspiritus#photo#visualsoflife#photography#eurekasprings#eurekaparks#travelphotography#artquenchmagazine#inspiration
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His shoulders loosen with a breath when she murmurs her own response, his lips curling at the edges. "I agree" He own voice is faint, too absorbed in the moment that burned between them. Lucien dips his head in a nod, he too, thought they should practice.
She is all teasing glances and fleeting touches, all soft laughter and wicked smiles, a game of near and not-quite, and Lucien lets it happen because he has no choice, because he is already caught in her pull, in the weight of a bond that tightens around his ribs like a vice. But then—then she says it. His control frays at the edges. Lucien inhales sharply, his fingers twitching at her waist, at the delicate fabric of her dress that he suddenly resents for being a barrier between them. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t let her slip from his grasp this time. “As you wish,” he murmurs, voice rough, unsteady. No more pretending, no more fawn and fox. Elain only tilts her chin up, meeting his gaze without a shred of doubt.
And that—that is what undoes him. Lucien exhales, slow and measured, but there is nothing calm in the way his hand slides down to hers, the way he threads their fingers together like a promise, like a claim. It’s likely easy to see, the shift in his persona. Not Lucien the flirtatious courier, just. . . her Lucien. “Follow me, love” he murmurs, and the words are more than agreement—they are surrender. And Elain must know, — must, that she is the only one he’d ever surrender too. The only one who could ever convince him to be reckless, to be so lovesick over. Someone he'd do anything for. Lucien carefully navigated them to the edge of the room, his hand firm around hers, savoring the rightness in the sensation.
There is no hesitation when they step past the threshold, no second-guessing when the cool night air greets them, wrapping around the heat still thrumming between them. Lucien barely registers the sounds of the ballroom fading behind them—Elain is all he can focus on.
elain tilts her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. she feels the warmth of him ghosting over the shell of her ear, goosebumps rising along the length of her spine and spreading to every place his words seem to touch, even the bare skin not hidden beneath the delicate hem of her dress.
“ what if i no longer wish to test it? ” she murmurs, her body leaning into his without a thought, fingers lingering just a second longer at his nape before trailing back to his shoulders, “ i think i'm done with theories, ” she hums thoughtfully, “ i'd rather put it into practice, ” the words are meant to be playful but they come out breathless, like she, too, is losing at this game they’re playing. and she knows from the way he tenses, the way his grip shifts ever so slightly, and the rough edge of restraint in his voice that she is playing with fire.
Autumn fire that she should not want to burn her.
and yet, she feels nothing but thrill that ignites a recklessness in her with a wanting that should scare her. but it doesn’t, it only makes her feel weightless, completely drunk on the heady tension between them. she can already picture it now: lucien sweeping her out of the ballroom, leading her past the towering hedges out into the quiet gardens where he might press her against the ivy-covered wall and finally put an end to this maddening game.
her lips part, and she very nearly tells him exactly that. but instead, she only smiles wickedly and just as easily as she had leaned in, she pulls away. a dance of touch and retreat, of teasing him to the very edge before slipping just out of reach. she turns in his arms, the press of her body against his nothing more than a whisper of heat before she’s already twirling away. she laughs, light and breathless. and then, just as the music sways into its final notes, she drifts back into his arms, their dance coming to a close.
the world around them feels distant, the laughter and chatter of the ballroom barely registering past the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. elain meets his gaze fully then, “ i wish for you to take me away now, ” she murmurs, stepping close enough that she has to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. “ just the two of us. ”
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Jasmine....... signs of hope in the Wintery Garden..... #winterflowers #winterjasmine #promiseofspring #coaxdonfarm #Airbnb (at Coaxdon Farm)
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Enjoying some of the last batch of #spiced #honey #mead in the #backyard #itsimbolcafterall #desert #nordiccelt #magick in the #air #imbolc #promiseofspring #brigid #candlemas #inspiration it's the time of #yemaya too #polytheism #interspirituality #panentheism https://www.instagram.com/p/B8C02yWhKc3/?igshid=1n50esoc94dc9
#spiced#honey#mead#backyard#itsimbolcafterall#desert#nordiccelt#magick#air#imbolc#promiseofspring#brigid#candlemas#inspiration#yemaya#polytheism#interspirituality#panentheism
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Latest encaustic experiment. Clearly I am hungry for spring. #encaustic #encausticart #portlandartist #imbolc #promiseofspring #newgrowth #hanginthere https://www.instagram.com/p/BuwJGq7Ao8p/?igshid=8qoxnaubczbf
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