#promiseofspring

[flamesofday]

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.  

[eclipsecrowned]

“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."

[kingmaketh]

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? ❞

[withguilt]

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. ❞

[maimedaffair]

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.   ❜

[viciousthorns]

“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.  ❜

[godstrayed]

❛ 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?”

[lisajaynemurray]

Tropical neighbours are a hint of summer warmth ☺️ #palmtrees #promiseofspring #seasons (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzfTyBpg4FJ/?igshid=vr1fjekbnn9m

[kannibalkrunch]

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=

[wickedpeachie]

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. ”  

[russellembruncan]

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

[memorspiritus-blog]

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

[flamesofday]

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. ”  

[damsontreepottery]

Jasmine....... signs of hope in the Wintery Garden..... #winterflowers #winterjasmine #promiseofspring #coaxdonfarm #Airbnb (at Coaxdon Farm)

[suzyjacobsoncherry]

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

[kristencurryart]

Latest encaustic experiment. Clearly I am hungry for spring. #encaustic #encausticart #portlandartist #imbolc #promiseofspring #newgrowth #hanginthere https://www.instagram.com/p/BuwJGq7Ao8p/?igshid=8qoxnaubczbf