#Spiritual consumption to avoid getting a divorce? I mean yes

[flowerflamestars]

Abattoir snippet

Cassian didn’t know why he did it. He knew these storms like he knew how to breathe- Maybe that was it. An effort, every day, to pull air in to lungs that seem to have forgotten their basic function, careening for listless misery to endless hectic drive, no sky open enough, clear enough, enough- Cassian was across the battlefield when Rhys died, might as well have been miles, and still, the day haunts him. He had loved his High Lord, true. A friend, if difficult- a brother, if only by bloody training. Cassian may no more have seen the whole of Rhys alive than Rhysand had been able to look and see the entire reality of the life Cassian had been living- between two peoples, between an aching dream he knew would break him to possess, what he woke screaming for, between myth and reality, Morrigan pulling him awake. Illyria was not home anymore. Velaris, too quiet. The House of Wind a refuge, still- warm stone and warmer magic, Morrigan quietly running the Court with the selfsame effortlessness as dragging her hands through his hair in benediction. Maybe that was why. It was a particular, excruciating, specific loneliness to be utterly alone in a bed with someone else. A gulf he cannot cross- to have everything he’s ever wanted in this empty, echoing, wretched fucking world and here Cassian still is- Cassian more than five centuries older than the last time and still, just Cassian as he’d been at twenty, tearing his fingers from Azriel’s ever-careful grip to throw himself toward thunder. That light, silver and godsgiven.