#We Have Snow for Solstice Rather Too Much of It

[broomsick]

Self-care & connecting with nature deities during the wintertime

Is it still possible to connect with harvest and nature deities such as Freyr during the cold season?

Long answer short, yes. Obviously, absolutely. But you all saw that answer coming, right? So I’m here to give you some ideas, as the person who’s favorite season is winter and who made it their mission to help everybody like winter just a little more. And since I feel especially close to Yngvi-Freyr when it comes to the Gods, I will use him as an example throughout this post, though a lot of the following could apply to most nature deities.

Let us first examine a common misconception before we get to the bottom of this topic: the fields don’t die when the sun sets on the 31st of October. The earth still lives under thick layers of snow. The process of dormancy is absolutely crucial to the cycles of nature. And if, like me, you find Freyr to be a sort of guardian of these cycles, then you’ll know he manifests himself in so many ways, even where you might not think to look.

Have you heard about the holly and ivy tradition? It was common during the European Medieval times to decorate houses and halls using holly and ivy, because they were the two plants with leaves that stayed green, even in the dark and cold of winter. This type of practice is often referred to as "bringing the outside in", and it's something I'm quite fond of. I've no doubt it could be a great help if you're the type to feel depressed during the winter time. It's a way to remind oneself of how everpresent nature actually is. Lots of greenery remains despite the snow! And to ackowledge this fact and to work with it is such a great way to connect with nature Gods in general! It goes to show that you appreciate their blessings all year round, not just during spring and summer. While it's true that in many cases, the presence of deities such as Freyr may feel somehow "dimmed" during the winter time, I assure you, they don't disappear once the first snow falls! On the contrary, they are every bit as present and active as when spring comes! They simply manifest themselves in a different manner.

When winter comes, I love to work with evergreen spirits. I incorporate spruce, fir and cedar into my practice and in my offerings. I won't go into too much detail for this topic however, because I've written posts that pertained to it in the past (namely, this post on tree work and this one on land spirits). Since I don't have easy access to holly or ivy, I make due with evergreen! Not with any actual branches, except when I'm lucky enough to find some that were torn away by the wind. But rather, using representations of it. In the same manner, and in the spirit of "bringing the outside in", it's also possible to decorate using representations of the sun! Harvest deities such as Freyr are often associated with it due to its crucial role in the cycles of plant growth. Candles also make for great solar symbols, and to place them around the home is like lighting a handful of little suns to bring much needed light and warmth inside. What's more, lighting candles on the winter solstice night is a widespread practice among pagans today! It serves to symbolize the return of the sun, as the days start to grow longer again. Until then however, it can be soothing for one to light a candle every morning before school or work, and to call upon any harvest, nature or solar deity of their choice to ask for strength and motivation throught the day. Even when it's difficult for us to feel their presence, they always hear us.

Now, how to actually feel more connected to nature? Oftentimes, connecting with nature and connecting with Yngvi-Freyr are one and the same. And on a more personal note, a lot of the advice I received from him pertained exactly to that: I believe he's often urged me to go spend more time in nature when I am going through rough patches. I know the cold and the cloudy weather can make it depressing for a lot of people to go out. My advice on this is to take it step by step: no need to go on long, four-hour long hikes right away! After all, there is already much beauty to be seen close to home. And I can't put enough emphasis on that: dress warmly! Also, as a tool for motivation, prepare a treat for yourself to enjoy after you've gone out. Part of what makes me enjoy winter so much is the thought of the warmth and light which await inside after I’ve gone out into the cold. The home is as sacred as the outside world! So why not buy, or prepare a batch of cookies, a cup of hot chocolate or a spicy dinner! It's something I love to do as a way to motivate myself to go out more often. And I like to offer part of these to local land spirits and to the Vanir, to show my appreciation for the beauty of this season. Just as an aside, I find snow water to be a great such offering as well!

I know that I’m not revolutionizing the pagan scene with this post, as there’s only so many ways to connect with nature during winter. I think it’s important to keep in mind that the snow, rain and cold that this season brings is just as much part of nature as the greens and lively colors of spring and summer. For this reason, they are just as much a part of nature deities and what they represent. Deities have so many facets and depth, and it can be so fulfilling to explore these different aspects, and the way we perceive them. While it’s true that spiritually speaking, it often feels to us heathens as if Skaði is somehow “taking” Freyr’s place in the order of things for the time being— much like the Holly King takes the Oak King’s place in Celtic folklore. This doesn’t make it so he disappears! In my experience, he presides over the cycle of seasons as a whole, and he is every bit as present for his followers as he is during the winter. I can connect with Skaði during the summer in a similar manner. And I’m sure that the same can be said for so many other harvest deities.

[the-spaced-out-ace]

Lautski Week! Day 1: Warmth

lautski nation we are so back. i've been so excited for this week sm

What a pretty sky, Pete thought as he walked the sidewalk. November was the pinnacle of wintertime to him, even if the solstice was technically a few weeks later. December was chilly even by Michigan standards, and the constant bright lights from holiday decorations could make walks downtown a bit too overstimulating as it got darker out. Likewise, January was far too dreary, because all dressings of the town were taken down entirely, and in both January and February, the weather didn’t hit the same. The sky was too grey and the snow too heavy. But November? November was just right. The air was newly crisp and therefore hadn’t become miserable yet, and the first fresh snow of the year was always the most exciting. It was the softest and purest since it had no interaction with people and animals yet, and, in Pete’s opinion, it was the most exciting to watch. The first snow indicated the turning point in the year, for things to finally wind down and for the holidays to start, and then for the New Year, eventually, though it still didn’t compare to the start of the cold. 

That being said, though Pete may have liked November, November did not necessarily like him back.

Sensory-wise, the cold tended to hit him hard, and given he lived in the Northern Midwestern lake town, there was no escaping the absolute frigidity that arrived with late autumn. And lucky, lucky Pete, it didn’t take much for him to start shivering, let alone frostbitten. Which is why he took to two pairs of gloves at the first sign of snow every year. Maybe a bit overkill, but it was essential to his own survival.

(Or at least, that was how he assured himself when he was little, and he stuck to it to this day.)

Pete glanced back over to Steph, walking at his side. They’d made plans to go to his place that afternoon so he could help her study for her bio final, though she first accompanied him to the library. A book he’d put on hold was finally returned and Steph and Pete had agreed that it would have made more sense for them to do everything in one trip, and ever since Steph had taught him her personal short cut from the far side of the school to back downtown, Pete had kept it in mind as an easy enough walk. Which was the main reason they were walking now. So Pete gripped the book as tightly as he could with both pairs of gloves on, rather deep in thought of getting to start it later and how pretty the sky really was and how nice it was he somehow ended up with Steph, let alone that she was walking home with him.

Speaking of which.

“Damn, Spankoffski,” she said. “You’re holding onto that thing with your life. Why not just put it in your backpack?”

“Too much hassle. I don’t want to take my gloves on and off too much,” he said. “It’s time consuming and causes a scene. I don’t need a scene.”

“Right,” she said. “Messes with the invisibility you’re building up, doesn’t it?” 

“Exactly. Not worth the risk.”

“Well, why not adjust somewhere you’re a bit more integrated?” she said. “Beanie’s on me this time. How ‘bout that?”

Before she could take no for an answer, she sped ahead so she could beat him to his regular coffee place. He pulled behind, careful not to get too fast for his own good and slip on the ice. By the time Pete entered the building himself, Steph was already halfway through the line. 

“You didn’t even wait for an answer,” he said as he walked back up to her.

“I wasn’t gonna take any answer but fuck yeah, Steph, let’s go,” she laughed. “Go ahead and sit down and put your book away. I’ll be right there with your hot chocolate.”

Pete nodded. “Could you ask for—”

“—almond milk instead of whole. Don’t worry.”

Admittedly, her cutting him off took him by surprise. No matter how many times they’d made coffee trips together, Pete still couldn’t fathom she just remembered little things about his orders like that.

“I guess I’ll meet you at that table,” he said, pointing behind him. And with that, he turned around and sat down in the left chair, sitting his library book down, then taking his backpack off, then finally pulling off his gloves, one at a time. Steph was right. No one was going to give him a second thought about someone taking gloves off inside. What a no-brainer. 

(Maybe getting negative attention for far less at school is what made him so anxious about doing anything in public. More than he was in general, at least.)

Steph joined him about ten minutes later, his hot chocolate in one hand and her hazelnut latte in the other (okay, she remembered his milk alternative preference, he remembered her favorite drink despite his not understanding the difference between most coffee words. Maybe they were even). “Here you go,” she said. “Beat your low blood sugar or something, right?”

“Right,” he said. He zipped his backpack back up and took a sip. “I gotta ask though, is this a ploy to procrastinate studying?”

“Nothing gets past you, nerd.” Steph smiled. “I do appreciate you helping though. You’re my only hope at this point.”

“Too much pressure,” Pete said. “I’m no Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“What?”

“Next time Ruth and I go on a Star Wars marathon, you should join us,” Pete said. “I think a lot more of what we say will make sense.”

“Noted,” Steph said, then took a sip of her own drink. “Mm, yeah. This was a good call on my part. Way better than braving the cold. I can feel myself warming back up already.”

“I don’t mind the weather today,” Pete said. “Mostly because the sky is still really crisp. It hasn’t gotten grey and dreary yet.”

“Mind if I ask you something then?” Steph asked. Pete shook his head. “Why do you wear two pairs of gloves, then?”

Pete shrugged. “My hands are always really cold. The extra pair makes it more comfortable to walk out in the cold.”

Steph smirked. “Is that so?” she asked. “Let me do some science like you’ve taught me. Observation: you claim your hands are super cold, so my hypothesis is that if I feel them for myself, maybe they’ll warm up pretty quickly.”

Pete looked down then, not necessarily disliking this sudden excuse for her to flirt with him, but still surprised nonetheless. “I’ve got my drink, that’ll warm me up—”

“So you’re passing up this opportunity to touch my hand?”

“...no.”

“Let me feel them.”

Pete held out his hands, and Steph took them. She shifted a bit as she did. 

“You weren’t kidding, Spankoffski. They’re ice cold. How do you live like this?”

“No clue,” he said. “Just used to it, I guess.” 

“Well, is this giving any solace?” Steph asked. 

Pete nodded. Though he wasn’t necessarily a physical person by nature, the people in his life (mostly Ruth and Steph) certainly were, so he didn’t mind moments like these. Plus, her hands were naturally warm, as far as he could tell, and they were even helping him warm up too. Maybe this would be a good example of thermal equilibrium, if that topic ever came up in tutoring. That could be a way to get back at her and let himself be the one instigating the date distraction some time. 

For now though, Pete could let that slide. 

Homework could wait. Right now he’d rather look at the November sky through Beanie’s front window while warming up with his girlfriend, hand in hand. 

[bittermuire]

A woman in the walls

Having left Velaris nearly a decade ago, Lucien returns to spend the winter season with the Inner Circle. He’s having a nice time being wined and dined and yet can’t help but notice the absence of Nesta, who seems to have disappeared altogether.

--

I.

Lucien’s mother used to tell him that winter is when the world ends: that the first snow is the first fissure, the warning, the lighthouse.

He steps down from the coach onto the dark street and holds out a hand. A snowflake spirals onto his finger then melts upon touching it. He smiles. He’s forgotten most of the stories and winter is so beautiful, anyway. He looks up at the front of the townhouse—how long has it been since he last stayed here? A decade? More? He hasn’t seen Feyre since her belly was swollen with promise, then he received a letter, a short one, that informed him briefly of the loss. We had a name picked out, the messy letters spelled out. It was a boy.

The door opens, golden light spilling out around that familiar frame.

“Lucien?” says Feyre, smiling. “By the Mother, is that you?”

He grins, taking up his trunk, and takes the steps two at a time to grab her in a hug. She laughs into his shoulder then pulls away sharply with a gasp.

“It’s snowing!”

He nods, looking over the blurred yellow lamplights. “The first snow.”

“Come on,” she says, and picks up his trunk. “Let’s go in. We’re having dinner. I’m so glad you’ve finally arrived!”

Lucien follows her into the foyer, when she pulls off his coat and he unwinds his scarves in the sweet warmth of the townhouse. Laughter bounces up every now and then from the kitchen, the living room, and he wonders how much has changed. He turns to Feyre. He wants to ask how everyone’s fared, but he stops short. In clear light she’s very… different, isn’t she?

Skin that’s stretched a bit too thin. Saucer-like eyes that are a distinct shade of cornflower blue, no others, no melting together of hues. A familiar throw of freckles, but less. Fewer.

“Feyre,” he says thoughtfully, and she turns to him, brows high. “Are you alright?”

She frowns, a high laugh pitched from her mouth, dry and cracked. “Just fine. Are you alright?”

He swallows a protest and they share a smile; they join the others.

II.

The letter he received, three months prior:

Dear Lucien,

How have you been? It feels like years since we’ve seen each other. I’ve never been too considerate about keeping up decent correspondence—my apologies.

Anyway, I’d be delighted if you would come spend the winter with the rest of here in the townhouse. It’s the same people as always. You know us all! I think it could be rather fun, and we’re throwing our annual Solstice party. I have all kinds of plans.

Write back and let me know!

Your friend, Feyre Archeron

He splashes water on his face long after the rest of them have gone to sleep, musing over the words in that letter. The same people as always. In fact, it is. Mostly.

Rhys and Cassian and Azriel and Mor and Amren and Elain and Feyre. They sit in the living room and put their feet in each other’s laps and laugh hysterically and get drunk. They’re more fun than they used to be—maybe it’s Lucien who’s changed, who’s loosened up. He can appreciate their company but he’d like to know, he’d like to ask:

Where’s the scorpion?

The frightful witch, with the spine of iron.

Cassian has circles beneath his eyes and he doesn’t laugh as hard. Mor has a new hardness around her mouth. Elain and Feyre sit on opposite sides of the room. Azriel looks over his shoulder; he has shadows for that, spies for that. There’s a dark glitter in the indigo of Rhys’s eyes. That’s always been there. It’s never made Lucien concerned, shaken, like this, splashing water on his face, wetting his face again and again.

These things he collects, puts in his pockets. They can’t have to do with her but he collects them anyway.

Where is she? They don’t say her name. For some reason, he’s afraid to, he keeps forgetting to.

Where is Nesta?

III.

A long day, a good day, comes to a restful end. He’s had breakfast with Rhys and Feyre, went to a game with Cassian, helped Elain prepare a late lunch, sat with them all on the veranda and watched the snow fall in silence. With each person he wants to ask about Nesta but it’s physically difficult, like his tongue has forgotten how to make the shape of her name.

He pushes back the sheets and shivers—his room is rather cold. Has it always been this cold? He shakes his head and pulls the comforters up to his chin. It’s freezing—

Thunk.

He jolts up. It’s like something has crashed into the window. He listens for something else, but there’s nothing.

Thunk. Scrape.

Muttering a curse, he gets up and pushes aside the curtain. It’s a tree branch, bare and heavy, moved by the night wind to rouse him from sleep. Damn it all.

So he ignores the sounds, the cold, and he repeats a rhyme in his head until he drifts off, drifts away.

IV.

(He sits across from her at a cafe. She is not how she usually is. She is how he’s begun to know her as. Her hair is long and down, a bit frizzy, and she sighs with irritation when the wind off the river blows it up and she has to push it away from her face. She has, always has had, a magnificent face. He finds it all the more magnificent when she smiles; that smile defies nature. A face like hers doesn’t smile and yet she takes a long sip of her coffee and sighs contentedly, and,

Smiles.

Lucien smiles too and looks over the river. This is a routine. They understand each other. Something in their bones is conducive to this. Something in their hearts is the same.)

He’s drowning.

With a strangled gasp he sits up, the comforters clenched in his hands. His nightshirt is drenched in sweat.

Nesta—

What was he dreaming of? It’s on the tip of his useless tongue. He just had it.

Wearily he runs a hand over his face. There goes the branch again, in an ugly rhythm, slamming angrily against his poor glass window.

V.

Elain sits like a little girl’s doll in the coach, rosy-cheeked and nestled in blankets. If he once was enamored with her, something in her marrow enchanted to pull his eyes, now he would rather look away. She looks unreal. Beautiful, surely.

“Ah, thank you,” he says, as she stretches the blanket over his legs.

She smiles. “How have you been? I realize I haven’t asked you that, not really.”

He smiles too. He looks out at the city as the driver clicks his tongue to the horse. “Oh, fine. The years have treated me well.”

“It’s been quiet for you?”

“Yes. For you as well?”

She blinks, eyelids smooth over the doe-brown of her eyes, spidery lashes long and thin. “Yes,” she says.

He can remember like it was yesterday those long months; days upon days of waiting in corridors and standing in the cold, wanting more than anything a glimpse of her face, the brush of her skirts against his leg, a piece of her silhouette, a piece of her. He would have taken discarded letters or a hint of stolen laughter, a whiff of her perfume. It wasn’t love. It was manufactured by a thing that the world is losing faith in. There are universities now—there are students who write papers and publish articles in the daily news, and they speak of something they call science. Not the ancient sciences, not—not witchcraft, but something concrete, absolute. Something of evidence.

Lucien reads those articles. He looks at Elain; he knows, it wasn’t love. It was fear. A need for structure. A cauldron brewing love potions.

It wasn’t love, but now it’s concern. She blinks again. He wants to grab her shoulders and shake her, pull something unrehearsed.

What’s going on in this mind of his? So muddled up. There had to have been a reason he proposed they take a ride around the city. He sucks in a breath and thinks, thinks.

Clop clop, go the horse’s hooves. He looks down a darker alleyway, the pathway to a dirter Velaris—wasn’t that where—

In a moment of clarity he bursts, “This might seem a strange question, but might I ask, where is Nesta?”

A blink. Her lips pull back from her small, pearly teeth.

“Lucien,” she says, like he’s a child. “What could you possibly mean?”

VI.

(She’s crying. Her hands clutch his arms and he rests his chin on the top of her head, murmurs meaningless things, hushes her, dread in his heart. She cries so often and for no apparent reason. It frightens him, that she, with an iron spine, with claws for nails, would spiral like a storm from that townhouse and come to him and sink to his floor and cry. He never goes to the townhouse anymore. He didn’t like to see them tear into her—Feyre promised, promised him, that she and her mate and their friends had stopped. That they had an understanding with her. That they loved her, they were on better terms.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he whispers to her. “Please tell me.”

She holds him tighter. There is a gold ring on her finger, embedded with rubies. It’s a ring of promise. She’ll have the ceremony in the next month.

She cries.)

A ghoulish wind wakes him, whisking through the walls. He sits up and listens and rubs his eyes blearily.

It doesn’t sound like the wind, it sounds like a woman, a girl—crying—

The sleep falls from him like a cloak and he’s alert, he remembers the dream like it’s real, like she’s here. He gets up and goes to the door, puts his hand on the knob.

“Nesta?” he murmurs, breath against the wood. “Nesta?”

The room goes cold. All three windows are closed. Locked tight.

VII.

Rhys holds up a necklace, blood rubies and diamonds. “How is this? Would Mor like it?”

Lucien nods. He has no idea what Mor likes. He’s tired—he never managed to get back to sleep last night, plagued by nightmares of all kinds of gruesome deaths, drowning and choking and getting burned on a stake, flames licking at his feet.

“Wonderful.” Rhys looks over it once more. “How are you sleeping, Lucien?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you sleeping well?”

A cold wind shakes the stall. Lucien stands still as stone, then plays at a smile. “As well as I’m able. There’s a horrible wind at night, isn’t there?”

Rhys’s eyes are jewels, glittering, twisting, catching light and grinding it up. He smiles also and hands the necklace to the vendor without a word. “Oh, yes. Don’t mind it.”

VIII.

Cassian wears a ring on his finger. Lucien looks at it often. He stands in the townhouse and laughs at their jokes, drinks their wine, says to himself over and over, I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. It hasn’t been that long. Cassian wouldn’t remarry. Cassian’s whole body belonged to her—to Nesta, why does her name slip from his mind every time? Why does he have to search for the pieces and string the letters together, one by one?

Cassian’s heart and mind and soul were hers even before the bond.

He still wears the ring. Lucien stares at it. Something ugly has begun to take shape in his mind, something vague like a monster in the doorway, breath on the back of his neck. There is something here and he’s grabbing at it and he’s missing it every time.

IX.

Lucien.

He gasps awake, wiping the dried line of drool off his face. The bedroom is dark, unnaturally dark, like someone has placed a blanket over his head while he was dreaming. He blinks over and over again.

Lu-cien.

The sound comes from somewhere near.

He gets up and goes to the door, turning the knob. “Hello?” he murmurs. And on a whim: “Nesta? Who’s there?”

No response.

Creeping down the hallway, he follows the clicks, the whispers, the innocuous sounds, with some subconscious layer of thought. His eyes are strained for light and his ears buzz with the suffocating silence, punctuated every so often with the rhythms, the placements, of this thing here, this thing that knows his name. Lucien, it rasps, and he thinks this must be another one of those strange dreams.

He awakens in the main hall, staring up at the filmy lines of Feyre’s unfinished (long finished) painting. Of her, of Elain, their mother and father. He squints and raises a finger to the dried paint. It must be a trick of the light…

The surface shimmers, shifts. He must be mistaken. Because Nesta is there, in the painting like she never was, beautiful, perfect, with that thin-lipped smile and regal posture. Her ears are curved. Her face is human.

He stares. He puts a finger to her face, faint as it is.

“Nesta?” he whispers, and the smile leaves her face, her hands are moving, they come up to touch his, and her skin is sandpaper against his. He frowns. He’s dreaming. He must be dreaming. They must be putting something in his food, his wine—he never dreams like this.

Lucien, is the word her mouth shapes.

Lucien, the air scrapes.

Lucien, Lucien—he can almost hear her voice, low and hard and even, so familiar he could weep, pull her from this painting—

“Lucien?”

The room fills with golden light and Nesta fades from his fingers. He turns to see Azriel, who’s holding up a candle and squinting furiously.

“Ah,” he says, a little shakily, “I think I’ve been sleepwalking.”

But Azriel doesn’t smile. “You need to go back to bed.”

“Actually—”

“Now.”

Overcome, overwrought, Lucien bursts helplessly, “Where is Nesta? Where is she? Why does no one speak of her? Tell me, or I’ll—”

He falters; his throat closes. The last sight he sees before he falls is Azriel’s creased brow and lightless eyes, the silhouette that rises over the spymaster’s shoulder, the velvet brush of night and a heavy ringed hand.

X.

He wakes to three feet of snow outside his window, a blue morning, light streaming in through the windows.

He didn’t dream at all. In fact, he doesn’t remember going back to bed, falling asleep—he doesn’t remember anything before yesterday’s luncheon. This was the most restful sleep he’s had. The room is pleasant and bright and he pushes off the sheets and gets ready for the day.

“Ah, good morning,” teases Feyre, who sits at the table. “You had quite the sleep! It’s nearly noon.”

He smiles cheerily. “I slept wonderfully.”

“Good. You’ll have plenty of energy for the Solstice party this evening. I trust you brought a suit?”

“I’d be insulted if you thought I hadn’t.”

She laughs. “Come here. I need your opinion on these garlands I’ve set up.”

He follows her to the main hall, looking to where she points, silver and gold entwined over the doorway, the stairwell, beneath the—

Painting.

Frozen, Lucien finds himself in front of it again, staring. Something unrolls, clicks, opens  a door and he remembers everything like it’s happening now. He searches feverishly for her—Nesta! Nesta!—but she’s nowhere, the space she occupied last night is empty and empty and it can’t be empty, wasn’t she there last night? Wasn’t she? Alive and reaching for him, speaking his name?

“Lucien?”

He blinks. “What?”

Feyre is peering at him, frowning a bit. “Are you alright?”

He takes in a long breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Feyre’s hands come around his arms and rub up and down consolingly. “Feyre,” he says.

“Yes?”

“There is something wrong and I need someone to tell me the truth.” He opens his eyes to hers, so familiar, so horrifically different. This is not the girl in Spring. She is wholly different. Every bit of her is different.

A maternal kind of smile splits her face as she says sweetly, “I will tell you the truth, Lucien.”

“Where is Nesta?” he asks under his breath. “What happened to her?”

Feyre’s smile falls.

He pulls away. “What did you do to her?”

“How do you…” she shakes her head, putting a hand to her face. “You shouldn’t… it’s not something you need to worry yourself over. Please don’t worry, Lucien. Just enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Where is she?” he pleads. “Feyre, I trust you. I know you’re kind, and good. Please don’t lie to me, just tell me—”

“What’s going on here?”

Rhys materializes over his mate’s shoulder with a twist of his mouth.

“Nothing, Rhys,” says Feyre shakily.

“You’re rattled. Darling,” he cooes, raising a hand to her hair, “you can speak with Lucien later tonight.”

Feyre goes under his arm and they disappear up the stairs.

XI.

He’s straightening his tie when a horrible crash comes from downstairs.

“Cassian!” someone shrieks.

Lucien runs down to the living room—Cassian is crumpled on the floor with bloodshot eyes, hands clenched around his neck, squeezing, squeezing tighter. Mor kneels beside him and grabs at his hands. “Help,” she gasps, seeing him. “Please help me.”

He falls to his knees beside her and does his best but the great warrior’s hands are like that of a beast’s. There’s no hope. He grimaces as Cassian chokes by his own volition, until—

“Stop,” orders Rhys, striding into the room. “Stop it.”

And Cassian does.

Lies still on the floor, staring up at the ceiling without life. His dry mouth moves in vague shapes, and then, almost mystically, he whispers, “Nesta.”

“No,” Rhys demands.

He coughs weakly, then turns on his side, props himself up on his elbow, levels the red eyes at his brother. “What did you do to her? What did you do? I thought she…”

“Stop with these delusions, Cassian. Please.”

XII.

(“Are you sure you’re happy?”

She smiles, a ray of light. In the seamstress’s fitting room, in the magnificent gown of white, she looks like someone she isn’t, not anymore. “Trust me, Lucien. You don’t have to worry about me.”

All his bags are packed. He decided to leave last month once she seemed like she’d reached a stable place, when she wasn’t coming to him for hours to relax and get away anymore. He’s not worried, not really, but he does want her to be happy. He’s not sure she is.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She presses a light kiss to his cheek. “I promise.”)

XIII.

“Cassian,” Lucien says, leaning close to where the general lies, still weakened. “Where is she? Do you know where she is?”

Rhys sighs. “Don’t encourage him.”

“What’s wrong with him? What happened to him? Where the fuck is Nesta?”

XIV.

(A letter, on his kitchen counter. From her.

Messy letters, frantic words.

I’m afraid.

I have such strange dreams.

I’m so afraid.

They’re going to kill me.)

XV.

The room goes ice cold, falls to darkness around their shoulders, all of them, in this frigid townhouse, clutched together like frightened children. Only Rhysand stands apart. He looks into the dark with ferocity and rage. It isn’t his night. It doesn’t belong to him.

And then, like in the painting…

The darkness collects itself into the shape of a woman.

She seeps from the walls, has arms, has legs, has long hair that falls free from her undulating head. She has a mouth that smiles, a smile that shows teeth.

She doesn’t have eyes.

She has a tongue; it hisses—

“He killed me.”

And she lifts a finger, points it at Rhys.

XVI.

It rushes back to Lucien. All of it.

Every miserable bit of it.

The marriage, the mating ceremony, the letters she sent him. That they were dragging her around again. That this time she was really afraid. That Cassian wasn’t himself. That the war kept reappearing in her dreams. That her body, she couldn’t control it. That Rhys would steal her away and interrogate her, sure that she would snap and kill them all. That she woke up in the night screaming and Cassian couldn’t hear her.

That the world was falling to pieces and only she could see it.

And then,

Nothing.

It was blank. Silence. Silenced.

Where her name had been, stamped like a wild horse’s hooves on every corner of the world, beautiful Nesta, intelligent Nesta, horrible Nesta, kind Nesta, Nesta, Nesta, Nesta—

Nothing.

XVII.

“Get behind me,” Rhys rasps, an arm coming in front of Feyre.

The woman laughs. “Are you scared?”

“You witch.”

“Indeed,” she says, nodding earnestly. “You poor frightened thing. You killed me and now you’ve been living with the consequences.”

Feyre chokes on a sob, a hand clenched to her mouth.

“Little Feyre.”

“Don’t speak to her—”

The woman, midnight and blurring stars, sick darkness, whirls on Rhysand. “Don’t speak to my sister? My little sister?”

“My mate,” he snarls.

“My mate,” Cassian gasps. He reaches up for her. “Please.”

“And you. You let him kill me.”

He shakes his head hard. “No. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. Please, come back.”

She laughs, sand sifting in the wind. “I can’t come back, don’t you see? I’m dead. That’s what happens when you get murdered.”

Lucien sits on the carpet, paralyzed.

It’s her, isn’t it? Who else?

Nesta.

“Nesta,” he whispers.

XVIII.

She turns to him, moving like a ghost, wisping feet catching on drafts of darkness. Eyes trace themselves into her face and she regards him slowly, bending to him.

“Lucien.”

“Hello, Nes. It’s been a while.”

Her mouth softens. She smells of a night wind, of a silent midnight snow.

XIX.

She puts a blurring hand on his cheek and it jolts into him like lightning—everything. Everything.

XX.

(She wakes that night in her own bed, as she always does, drenched in sweat and shaking from the terror that waits for her in sleep. She wakes that night with a knife to her throat. Unrelenting indigo eyes are fastened on hers.

“How long have you been waiting here?” she murmurs. She moves her eyes to the figure beside her. “Does he know?”

Rhys follows her eyes. “He has some idea.”

“Ah.”

“You know why I have to do this.”

“I don’t know why. But I know you.” She swallows, closes her eyes. “So on some level I always knew.”

She doesn’t feel the knife.

But she wakes in some half-way place, bodiless, floating, in the walls of the townhouse and without a heart to love, without a mind to remember how. She sits in paintings. She moves between times, hours, relives memories, relives a world that drove her to madness. Without a heart and without a mind she sits and kills them, over and over. She stalks them through the house and suffocates them and haunts their dreams. She learns what he did. What Rhys did.

She learns that he went into all their minds and scrambled their thoughts around. That everyone in the world who ever knew her no longer knows her. That she doesn’t exist. That one man can do that. That one man can kill her while she lies in bed with her mate, her husband, and make her nothing.

She is yanked from the world by her neck, by a knife.

That there are only five people who know: Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan, Amren.

And Feyre.)

XXI.

“How are you here?” he says to her.

Rhys takes a step forward. “Get away from it, Lucien.”

But Nesta—what a beautiful name—she presses a cold kiss to his cheek. “Promise me you’ll leave. Now.”

He reaches for her but his hands pass through her like smoke.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She curls from him with a sigh. “Go,” she breathes,

And he jerks to his feet, possessed by the order in her voice, half dreaming, sure he’s dreaming, and runs, runs down the hall and out the door into the snowy city, the snowy city falling to night. And the townhouse cracks, the foundation crumbles. Lucien doesn’t dare to look back.

Go, he hears, a whisper on the wind, again and again and again.

Lucien runs.

--

clearly there’s a lot to be explained here but I’ll leave it up to interpretation

[the-starry-lycan]

Sea of Stars Headcanons 02

Yesss more headcanons! Zale's have been finished, and I thought it was only fitting to go for his partner of Solstice, Valere. Here we have some headcanons for our moongirl, the mighty Lunar Monk!

Valere is the second-tallest of the trio, and is the middle between Zale and Garl, being about 5 cm taller than the former and 3 cm shorter of the latter.

She enjoys rainy weather the most, and likes to be out during the nighttime. She's got a good tolerance for the cold, and doesn't like being out in the sun too long.

In the snow, Valere enjoys making snow sculptures.

When it comes to food, Valere prefers sweets, and what she eats generally isn't too strongly flavoured. When Garl was unable to do the cooking for the group and it came her turn, her food was generally quite mildly-flavored, with the occassional odd taste combination from her experimenting.

She naturally took to meditating when she was younger and would do a little people-watching around Zenith Academy, which was considered creepy to some and endearing to others.

Another habit she tended to was long walks in the moonlight, and she'll go out for a walk if she's feeling some strong emotions (though she might just make it a run or training session if she's feeling really intense about it..). She also likes to stargaze and can identify the basic constellations in the sky.

If she is feeling angry about something, she seethes. She, too, doesn't hold grudges too deeply, but she is more wary than Zale when it comes to trust.

When she was younger, she had planned on having the title "Bulwark of the Innocents" rather than "Lunar Monk", something Zale still likes to torture her with to this day.

Valere was closer to Erlina than Brugaves as a child, as their serious, more quiet and intense natures aligned with one another.

She is a night owl, and likes to be out during the night, particularly when it's quiet (good peace for meditating). She likes to stay up late, and if she can, wakes up late (or REALLY late) in the morning.

Valere is a more of a cat person, and feels neutral around most other animals, not minding their presence too much.

When she's hurting or sick, she prefers to take some time to be by herself and recover. She is all right with Garl or Zale visiting her, but not for too long, and can be pretty grumpy when she isn't feeling very well. When she's feeling up to it though, she'll lie in Teaks's lap and listen to a story to help make her feel better or fall asleep.

Valere isn't as physically affectionate as Zale is, but she prefers to use words to show her affection, and will happily give compliments and praise (plus some pretty creative insults to those she doesn't like)

She does not startle easily.. although Zale does, and she very much encourages and helps out the attempts of Resh'an and Seraï to creep him out or scare him (even Teaks too, with a scary story).

She gets along best with Teaks and Seraï in the group. She's amiable but oftentimes Zale can be too much for her, the Alchemist is too detached generally, and she's all right with B'st.

[bokettochild]

Opera house AU, a few festive ideas;

Sun made Legend's baby blanket for his first Yuletide with her, Sky and Twilight. It has a pink bunny and Blupees on it

Flora's coveralls from Grandpa were a Yule gift from him because "Im proud of you" and she broke down crying because her dad never said that. She's joined him and Four's holiday tradition of "BBQ dinner in the bike shop garage with the local bikers" (they're the kind of gang like Bikers Against Child Abuse)

One Solstice, Malon invited Time to the family ranch. In return, he invited her to the Equinox with the Kokiri

When he's finally with Ilia, her and Twilight planned on a festive Ordon roundtrip. Bad weather delayed them a few days, nothing like surviving a blizzard together in a truck snowed-in on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere for romantic ambiance XD

Wind, Wars, Aryll and Linkle always make it to their Grandma's for the holidays. It's a rare time theyre all behaving

Dusk finds out Fable's her daughter and has that reunion in time for the solstice. Her first time with both her children since they were born and she's an emotional wreck (for all the right reasons though). At Legend's insistence, Sky and Sun were there too

Wild goes back to Hebra where he Shield Surfs with Selmie and Tulin

Hyrule volunteers at the soup kitchen he practically grew up in, spends every Yule there with his "Aunties" (the Great Fairies that run the place, they just started calling him their nephew when he was a kid)

Here for this!

The winter holidays are so much fun for the gang and after their traditional performance of A Christmas Carol, they all gathered in the backrooms for a holiday party before splitting off for the rest of the year to enjoy their own holidays.

Dusk and Hyrule are both new to the opera, and have no real family in town, but they got invitations from literally everyone to join them in their holiday festivities. Did this mean both of them took up Twilight's invitation this year? Yes, yes it does.

Flora is quickly falling in love with the gang, and they're quite willing to take her on as their second junior member (Four is the other one). The coveralls were well loved, and her first ever battle-jacket has been obtained as well! She is going to wear it everywhere <3

Sun ad Sky make new gifts every year. That blanket was the first, but there have been several more. My family has a tradition of wearing super long (waist length) stocking caps when we open presents, and Sun totally knit some of those for the holidays. Dusk got one this year too, although Legend knit it for her. She loves it. Sky made everyone new mugs. he's trying pottery out.

Hyrule volunteered around, and then managed to make it back in time for dinner with the Sutherlands (Twi and company). No worries, Ilia, Dusk, and Groose did the cooking, Twilight and the other two didn't do anything more than chop and mix where told. No damage was done and no food reanimated, and after gifts, Hyrule and Ledge fell asleep curled up together on the couch (covered with the blupee blanket).

Holidays in the islands were great, the postcards sent to the crew make everyone a little green. Wars and Wind come home with a ice new tan and Granny was so delighted to have everyone visit her for the holidays at her retirement home. She spent a good amount of time boasting to her new friends there about them. Wind is delighted to see all his cousins, and Aryll made a new friend with pretty red hair! Hogmanay was a little different in a beach community, but Wars and the girls had a lot of fun anyways, and Aryll and Wind had fun learning about their cousin's culture!

Wild has the most fun up in Hebra! He, Tulin and their dad all had the time of their lives. Their Hogmanay was delightful; Rito celebrate by flying from home to home rather than walking, when the weather is decent, and while Wild can paraglide, he also had some fun with shield surfing around with the other non-Rito neighbors in their rounds.

I'm going to say the Fable revelation was.....yeah. New Years in the opera is going to be fun >:)

[stagkingswife]

I've been reading about your Forgotten Ones and it's really inspiring. You talk about holy days that are tied to natural occurrences, such as seeing the first snowdrops. If it's not too personal, would you mind expanding a bit on that? How do you celebrate these days that can sneak up on you?

I'm sure there's much to elaborate on in regards to the timing of my holy days... Most of them are tied to some natural occurrence rather than a date. Some are simple signs, like the first X of the season, some are a little more complicated to calculate - like the height of firefly season, or the first thunderstorm after the Autumnal equinox. But each indicator relates back to the entity(ies) that the holy day focuses on somehow, like the First Robin indicating a holy day for Wren - who is associated with birds, wind, and weather. I have a few days that are more set, like Long Night, which takes place on the Winter solstice, or the day I set aside for my sailing ancestors - which doesn't have a particular name, but it takes place on Talk Like a Pirate Day every year.

I tend to keep my rituals and celebrations pretty simple, and I do basically the same thing for each holy day from year to the other, so when a day turns out to be a holy day I'm never caught too flat footed. Most rituals involve offerings, prayers, and some kind of devotional activity tailored to the entity(ies) the day focuses on. For instance, just yesterday I was completely surprised be the snowfall we got and that fact that it actually stuck, signifying that it was First Fall. This holy day celebrates two entities, my god of the Sun, fire, and inspiration, and my god of stories and songs. The ritual for it was lighting a bunch of candles (since I don't have a fireplace anymore), cooking and offering a meal and a wintry cocktail, and then indulging in stories and songs to distract from the snow and the cold winds. No planning needed, it's the same thing I do every time the first snowfall accumulates enough to stick around.

The bigger issue is when two days with very different celebrations happen at the same time, which is rare. But this year First Robin Day and Lady's Flower happened on the same day because of the early thaw we had. Normally I see a robin before it's warm enough for any flowers, but not this year. So I tried to figure out how to combine one celebration that is supposed exalt the joy of warmer weather coming with childlike glee and a very somber observance sacrifice. They didn't blend well, so I sort of just did a double feature - one right after the other. But again, both were simple enough that I had what I needed on hand, just around the house.

[fromfeyresperspective]

A Court of Gray and Glimmer

This story starts in Velaris, just after the Winter Solstice that takes place in A Court of Frost and Starlight, but before the events of A Court of Silver Flames. Rhys plans to take the Inner Circle, plus Feyre’s sisters, on a surprise trip after Winter Solstice. This story will feature mostly Feysand content, and will include scenes of jealousy from Feyre.

Chapter One: Surprise

Slowly, I began to stir, too warm and comfortable in our large bed to fully awaken right away. I knew it was early morning, right at dawn, perhaps, because of the periwinkle light filtering in through the two large, velvet curtained windows in the bedroom of our townhouse.  Rhys was still asleep, judging by his soft and even breaths. I opened my eyes fully and rolled onto my right side. The sight of his muscular back greeted me, and now fully awake, I felt a sharp drop in my stomach. I watched him breathing, sleeping so peacefully, and I remembered what we had done just hours before, in this same enormous bed. I smiled at his back, and reached out to touch it. Gently, I dragged my fingernail down the length of it. He stirred and I heard a sharp intake of breath as I continued to trail my finger down, down, down, and then around, right towards his center and between his legs. Next thing I knew, I was on my back, pinned down, looking up into his violet sleepy eyes.

“Not so fast, Feyre,” he breathed, his night black hair tousled from sleep. I stared sweetly up at him, and with that, he flipped me over in one motion so that my hands were on the headboard of our giant four-poster bed, and spread my legs apart with his knee. 

A long, rough few minutes later, we both laid back against the pillows, smiling and energized from our morning fuck session. It was one of my favorite things about waking up next to my mate, who was always insatiable in the morning, and always oh-so-beautiful. 

“Well, High Lord, after that, I think I need to bathe”, I whispered, looking at Rhys from under my eyelashes.

“Of course, Feyre, darling,” he replied softly. “But please, allow me to join you.”

Next thing I knew, Rhys had swept us into the bathing room, the large marble clawfoot tub in the middle of the room currently filling itself with steamy water and periwinkle and silver bubbles to match the winter morning glow outside. The bubbles smelled of fresh mint and pine, and I sighed contentedly as I stepped into the tub, now fully undressed. Rhys climbed in after me and settled me between his legs, the back of my head resting against his chest.

It had been only a few days since the Winter Solstice festivities, and now we had the long, cold, sometimes rather bleak winter to look forward to (or rather, not look forward to). Although it could have its moments (especially here in Velaris, where the snow sparkled in the starlight and the sidewalks had a heated magic warming them), Winter was still my least favorite time of the year. The long, frigid nights; the lack of sunshine; the chill that settled deep into my immortal bones… It very much reminded me of the human lands and my life before I had found myself in Prythian, now wrapped in the arms of my mate, who just so happened to be the High Lord of the Night Court. I smiled to myself as the thoughts crossed my mind. This would be my first winter as High Lady, and even more importantly, a winter where I was not struggling to find and hunt any kind of beast that I could turn into food, in a vast array of dark woods, just to keep my family and myself alive. 

I closed my eyes and fully leaned into Rhys, and he settled his chin on my head. 

“So, I was thinking,” he began, “that I’m going to take you somewhere for the week, if you don’t object to it.”

“Somewhere…like where?” I asked. “Don’t we have too much to do around here? The Solstice season’s over now.” 

We had taken quite a long break from our usual work for the Solstice celebrations with our family, friends, and the city. We had hosted parties, gone to dances and banquets, and even had thrown a ball for the citizens of Velaris. It took place at the Palace of Thread and Jewels just south of the Sidra river, with decorations featuring emerald and ruby jewels and gems twinkling in the moonlight, a gorgeous spread of dinner and desserts, and sparkling blueberry faerie wine.

“I know, Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred into my ear, “and although I know you so yearn to get back to work, will you allow me to whisk you away, just for a few days? I don’t object to the notion that we have much to accomplish around here, but before that, I have a surprise…let’s call it an outing, for you and our family.”

Our family, of course, was referring to our Inner Circle: Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel, although I was unsure of whether or not Rhys intended to include my sisters, Nesta and Elain, in this surprise “outing” to… wherever we were headed. 

“A surprise?” I asked, bemused. “What kind of surprise?” I was not necessarily one for surprises. 

Rhys laughed. “You do know the definition of the word, right, Feyre?” he asked, with a small bite on the top of my ear. He stroked the side of my breast, gently, which sent an electric pulse thrumming between my legs. “A surprise involves me not telling you exactly where we’re going.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Then when are we leaving for this so-called surprise?” 

Rhys simply said, “We leave at noon,” and then laughed. 

“You don’t need to pack a bag, Feyre, darling. Clothes will be provided, although, of course, I’d much prefer it if you wore none.” 

Three hours later, at noon, I stood in the foyer of our townhouse, wearing one of Rhys’s thick, heather gray sweaters that fell to my mid-thigh, and a pair of knit leggings and boots. Next to me were two large, tan, beautiful males. Rhys’s brothers, Azriel and Cassian, looked like some chiseled gods from another dimension. They were loudly arguing about the outcome of a game of cards that they had played with Rhys the night before. 

“I don’t care if that’s what you think the rules are,” Cassian spoke loudly. His hair was pulled back, and his passion was barely contained as he playfully raged at Azriel. “Those aren’t the rules and never have been, and Rhys and I are well aware that you make up rules to fit your hand when you deem necessary, Az. We’re not falling for it this time.” “We’re not?” Rhys asked as he sauntered down the stairs, wearing his soft black pants and a black sweater, the color of the darkest night, fit perfectly to his broad shoulders, his hair still slightly wet from our bath. “Speak for yourself, brother. I didn’t fall for anything, as per usual, but you, as per usual, most certainly did.” 

Rhys and Azriel shared a smirking glance, making Cassian’s eyebrows draw together and his full lips part. 

“So what, you’re fucking with me right now? I don’t get it,” he said. 

I snorted, and Az rolled his eyes. 

“Cassian, you cannot seriously believe, after five hundred years, that the same card game we play nearly every week just has a new set of rules out of nowhere? Come on, brother.”

“So I won, then!” Cassian said. “If there are no “new rules” then I definitely ended up winning last night, and you two can’t deny it,” he added, looking at Rhys.

“We weren’t going to deny it. But you were so drunk that we were sure you would believe it, and you did… kind of,” Rhys said with a chuckle, and then looked at me. “Did I mention we got blackout drunk last night? Well, I should say, Cassian did. He ended up finishing the game completely naked. He thought the so-called “new rules” involved removing all of his clothing.” 

Azriel laughed, and I raised my eyebrows at Cassian. He didn’t look embarrassed at all, but he did look pleased. 

“What can I say, Feyre? Even my own brothers can’t stop themselves from wanting to see me in the nude,” he said.

“I highly doubt that,” said a sharp voice from the sitting room. Amren had moved from the plush chair by the fireplace and was standing in the sitting room doorway. She donned her usual gray outfit, and her shiny short black hair was pulled back from her face. “And what time will Mor be arriving? I thought we were supposed to be leaving at noon.” “Patience, Little One,” Cassian crooned. “It’s just barely noon. Can we even give her a chance to be late?”

A sharp knock knock knock on the door answered Cassian’s question, which briefly puzzled me; Mor knew better than to knock. But when Cassian pulled the door open, I immediately understood why she had; next to Mor, with their heavy sweaters and coats on, were both of my sisters. 

Elain, I was not at all surprised to see. She usually stayed down here at the townhouse with Rhys and me, or stayed at the House of Wind with Nuala and Cerridwen. Nesta, however…I couldn’t believe she stood on the doorstep voluntarily.

Mor strode in quickly, her long blonde hair trailing behind her, and went straight to the sitting room to warm herself by the fire.

“It’s fucking freezing out there,” she called over her shoulder. “Rhys, please tell me you are taking us somewhere warm for this so-called surprise. Feyre, please tell me he told you we’re going somewhere warm.”

Rhys didn’t answer her because he was too busy evaluating my face, making sure I wasn’t upset at the sight of my sisters (one of them in particular) standing there, presumably coming with us on this trip, or surprise, or whatever it was.

Elain, dressed in a thick, bright white overcoat, worn over a simple but elegant dark emerald gown, walked in straight to me and folded me in her arms. I hugged her warmly back. Although Elain was always stunningly beautiful, she somehow looked even more radiant when she was happy. Azriel, it seemed, was trying to avoid staring at her, but even so, I noticed that he shot a glance her way every few seconds.

“Okay, Feyre, where are we going? And why was I told to prepare myself to freeze my buns off?” Elain asked with a giggle.

Rhys and Cassian laughed, and Azriel blushed. 

“Well, sweet sister, at this point you know more than I do,” I said. “Rhys hasn’t told me where we’re going, and in fact, I didn’t even know we were going anywhere until this morning. I certainly didn’t know we were going somewhere to freeze our buns off.” I threw Rhys a dirty look.

“Trust me, I would never want to freeze those buns off of you, mate,” he replied with a truly wicked wink. “And I only didn’t mention it because I hadn’t made up my mind about just where we were going, or at least not until I received confirmation from my first choice of destinations yesterday. I only just informed Azriel last night.”

Az, I assumed, had told the others, who were all now gathered here with me in the foyer.

“Can we go already, then?” Amren spouted. “Enough chit chat.” She clapped her hands raptly twice. Amren was not known for her patience. 

I looked at Rhys, who was looking towards the front door. Nesta was standing with a blank expression on her face. I took a tentative step towards her, and held out a hand.

“Nesta,” I said gently, with a small smile. “Will you be joining us on this adventure?”

Her blank expression immediately turned into one of vitriol.

“Why else would I be here?” she said angrily. “If your mate hadn’t demanded that we come, trust me, I wouldn’t have.” Nesta looked straight at Rhys. “I know you think you can tell us what to do, but I assure you, Rhysand, you do not rule me, or Elain. I don’t give a damn that my other sister became your whore.”

At these words, the room was so still I thought for a moment that time had frozen. Everyone looked from Nesta’s face to Rhys, who was still standing just at the bottom of the stairs. His fury was palpable, and I could almost physically taste it. It was as if complete and total darkness was a pool bubbling just beneath our feet, and we were all about to be submerged by it completely. Cassian took a step forward, towards Nesta.

“Say something like that about our High Lady again, and you will come to find out exactly why this Court terrifies the rest of the world.” 

Nesta met his eyes, and despite his anger, despite his fury at what she had said about me, his eyes were soft, longing. I withdrew my eyes from Cassian’s expression and turned to Rhys, who still looked like he would like to rip Nesta limb from limb, and spoke mind to mind with him. “Rhys, it’s okay." I said. “She didn't get to me. She knows what she’s doing. She just wants to get under your skin,”. I gave him a small, reassuring smile. He gazed back at me, and finally blinked.

“And I would love to get deep inside your skin, Feyre, darling,” he said in my mind with a small snort, his anger slowly dissipating, though it still bubbled warningly beneath the surface. I turned to Nesta, who looked like she would love nothing more than to physically attack Rhys. Or maybe me.

“Nesta,” I said gently. “If you didn’t want to come, then why are you here?”

“Do you really think I would let Elain go alone to the gods know where?” she asked with a furious look. “And besides, your so-called mate demanded that I come under threat of punishment. Is that what this is now, Feyre? Do you want to punish me? For not obeying you and your High Lord?”

“How dare you, girl,” Amren spat, but I held up my hand. I looked at Rhys, my expression a bit puzzled. I didn’t think he would demand that Nesta come; in fact, I’d have thought that he would prefer it if she didn’t. And we certainly would never punish Nesta for not coming on a trip with us.

“I sent Az to get them this morning,” Rhys said in my thoughts. “Elain was with Nuala and Cerridwen at the House of Wind, and Az asked her if she would like to come, to which she, of course, happily said yes. Nesta, on the other hand… she was at the tavern, the one in the alley around the corner from her apartment, and I may have told Az to… heavily imply that she must come, at least to the house, where we could give her the choice on whether or not to come with us. Feyre, I do want her to come. I want you to be able to have both of your sisters on this trip. I want you to be able to be with all of your family.” 

I blinked. On one hand, I was irritated that Rhys would even attempt to get Nesta to come with us, especially if she was insisting on not. She would be sure to do her best to make the outing miserable, and she herself would be miserable as well. On the other hand… I understood his intentions. I turned back to Nesta.

“Nesta, I’ll only say this once. You can come with us, or don’t. It is truly your choice,” I said to her. “And Elain won’t be alone, she’ll be with us, completely safe and protected. But, if you do come, you will not make this affair unpleasant for everyone else.” 

Nesta stared at me, and then narrowed her eyes.  “I’m coming,” she said. 

I nodded, and gave her a kind smile.

“Shall we go, then?” I asked, looking at Rhys. “I know Rhysand is bursting at the seams to get us all to…wherever we’re going.”

Mor walked in from beside the fireplace, looking relieved the tension that had previously been heavy in the room had somewhat evaporated. 

“Then let’s get out of here!” she said happily, squeezing by Cassian and wrapping her arm around me. “Rhys, where are we going? You have to tell us now so I can help winnow everyone.”

Rhys smiled, excitement in his eyes. He stepped forward and took my hand. 

“For the first leg of our journey, we’re going to the Winter Court…to the Palace of Ice.”

[folklorianhaze]

this year, to save me from tears

Pairing: Elain x Azriel (with some background Feysand and Nessian)

Rating: M (sexual themes, but nothing explicit)

Tags: One Shot, Solstice fic, post-ACOSF, canon-compliant, Forbidden Love, Sexual Tension, Elain-centric, no beta we die like the Weaver

Word Count: 3,827

Summary: Another year, another Solstice celebration at the Night Court. Elain Archeron can still remember the last time she saw Azriel over the holidays — the rose necklace he'd put around her neck, the way they'd nearly kissed before Rhysand interrupted. And while she might have done her best to accept that since then, Azriel has seemed to distance himself from her a bit, she can't bring herself to just sit quietly and not get some answers.

So this time, when she and Azriel are alone for a few minutes at the townhouse together (thanks in no small part to some scheming from Feyre) Elain has decided she's not going anywhere until Azriel explains why he's been avoiding her.

Oneshot. Post-ACOSF.

Read it on AO3 here!

As the day’s Solstice celebrations had slowly dwindled to a halt and the last whispers of daylight had disappeared beneath a glowing blue horizon, the cozy townhouse in Velaris had quieted at last. Where mere hours ago the space had been filled with roaring laughter and clinking dinnerware, the rustle of fabric as presents changed hands, playful dancing as a result of too much wine, now there was only restful silence. Save, of course, for the merry crackling of the fire in the hearth, a warm light to ward out the frosty winter chill waiting just outside those arched front doors. Outside the steadily darkening windows, snow fell in graceful, almost lazy flurries.

A tiny smile formed at the edges of Elain Archeron’s mouth at the sight — as she realized that Rhysand and Feyre had opted to fly home tonight to the river house, and that her youngest sister would be none too thrilled to get her hair (expertly curled by Nuala and Cerridwen hours earlier) wet and heavy with snow.

  Given how quickly the room had cleared out, Elain had to wonder if those ever-so-slightly rushed goodbyes and promises that they’d all meet up again in the morning were, in fact, her sister’s work. Feyre, who often regarded the dynamics within her Inner Circle with the same keen, careful gaze she used to paint an empty canvas, missed nothing — not even, it seemed, the way Elain and the Night Court’s spymaster had been looking at one another all evening.

Perhaps once, an entire lifetime ago, another person ago, Elain might have found it within herself to be embarrassed by the idea.

She supposed she still was, partly. No matter who it concerned, having your sister know — or at least suspect — intimate details of your romantic involvements was never exactly an ideal circumstance one dreamed of. The thought of Feyre not only seeing so clearly what had passed unspoken between them for so long, but making an effort to orchestrate situations where the two of them might be alone together, was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks.

 Especially when she got the sneaking suspicion that her sister’s mate . . . well, not entirely disapproved, but certainly wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Azriel spending so much time around Elain to begin with.

And she understood Rhysand’s worry. Truly, she did — or, at the very least, she had attempted to. With so much between the courts left in such a tenuous place following the war with Hybern, she supposed they were lucky enough to get peaceful Solstice gatherings like tonight’s at all.

But there was a part of her — a part that, recently, had become harder and harder to stifle or shut out — that secretly bristled at the idea of being treated like a child. Like a naive girl, incapable of making her own decisions or understanding the gravity of the situation. It had been that way for so long now; so many people, underestimating her, hiding her, protecting her rather than letting her step out on her own and . . . well, maybe see what she wanted from this new life she’d been granted.

Elain drew a shuddering sigh as she continued watching the snow silently fall, gathering at the edges of the windows, each individual crystal of white sparkling with breathtaking clarity through these new Fae eyes. She still hadn’t quite become accustomed to it yet, even though it had been what seemed like an eternity now since she’d been turned — not just the enhanced vision, but the newfound strength of her body, the arched ears, the inhuman face that stared back at her in the mirror each morning. How was it possible that she felt as if so much had changed, and yet as if she herself were still arrested in time — still frozen as the girl she’d been when she went into the Cauldron — all at once?

A noise at the far end of the room, so soft she might not have even heard it back when she’d still been a human, drew Elain’s attention. Reeling herself back in from her reverie, she blinked and turned slightly in her chair — and her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she found Azriel staring back at her.

No doubt he’d wanted to subtly alert her to the fact that he was there — knowing Azriel’s talents, he certainly could slip away unnoticed if he’d truly wanted to. Elain swallowed unevenly, taking in the surprise tinged with something unreadable on his face, something she dearly hoped wasn’t discomfort. Those eyes of his — they seemed to lance right through her, seemed to twist something deep in her chest without even trying.

Despite the charged glances passing between them all evening, he’d barely spoken to her during the Solstice activities. Whenever they’d been close enough that he’d been forced out of necessity to directly address her, his words had been formal, strained. And when she’d given him his gift — a thick, woolen blanket she’d painstakingly knitted herself, so that you can lie down anywhere and take a nice nap when this lot gets too exhausting for you, Elain had joked — he’d laughed along with the rest of the group, but his smile had been edged with pain, the amusement too obviously feigned for even the most unobservant person to mark it as genuine. She’d ducked her head to allow the curtain of her hair to fall forward, to keep anyone else in the room from seeing her reddening cheeks, the tears that had stung her eyes.

Perhaps Feyre had noticed more than she’d let on — perhaps, in her own way, this was part of her sister’s Solstice gift to her. An opportunity that she and Azriel might not have had, without Feyre distracting Rhys for the remainder of the night. An opportunity to talk to one another — really talk, and figure out where things had gone so horribly wrong between them.

“Hello,” Elain breathed at last, hoping her voice sounded less nervous than she felt. “I’m sorry, I was just—” she gestured back to the window, then glanced back at Azriel, at last deciding to rise from her seat. “I hope I haven’t been in your way at all.”

She smoothed out the skirts of her dark green gown, clearing her throat and trying to look busy. Obviously, if her presence had vexed him so much all night, then the last thing she wanted was to bother him any further.

This was a mistake, he’d told her once, on another Solstice that seemed so long ago now, when they’d been so close they were nearly sharing breath, so close she could nearly feel his lips upon hers.

  A mistake. Perhaps he was right. After all, who was she? Why would he ever — ever possibly want someone like —

“Please,” he said. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Perhaps there had once been a version of her that would have been cowed by his words. She’d been raised that way, to be polite and kind, to always be open to anything anyone — especially anyone male — had to say. Another girl had been taught those things, to dip her head and look shyly away from what she wanted and never hint to an inner life of her own.

  She’d always been the good one, and over the years she’d come to notice how very many people associated goodness with how willing you are to allow them to walk all over you.

But so much about her had changed now on the exterior — perhaps now was the time that she challenged everything that had become instinct so long ago, that something on the inside changed for her, as well.

Elain lifted her chin. “If I have truly done nothing wrong, then why have you refused to so much as acknowledge my existence tonight?” Her tone remained even, calm, but there was a frankness there that others around her seldom saw.

Azriel blinked, as if thrown by it, but other than that minuscule tell, she wasn’t entirely certain how her words had landed. The muscles in his strong jaw worked as he seemed to search for something to say. She waited, patient but unyielding.

“Elain,” he said at last, as if there were nothing else, nothing more that he could think of to justify his strangely cold behavior towards her. There was a note of resignation in his voice as he added, “If I was brusque, then I assure you it was no fault of yours. I just haven’t . . . it isn’t—”

“Please,” she nearly whispered. “Please, do not think of insulting me with lies. By presuming I cannot handle the truth. Tell me whatever it is I’ve done to bother you so, Azriel. Tell me you can’t stand to be near me any longer, fine — only don’t sit here and say one thing when I can so clearly see you mean another thing entirely.”

She hadn’t even realized that she’d started walking as she spoke to him, that she’d nearly cleared the distance between them by time the last syllable left her lips. Now in the following silence, he edged slightly closer to her, as well, until they were both standing nearer to one another than they’d been all night — than they’d been in a long while, actually. She couldn’t help but think of last Solstice, and the rose he’d tried to put around her neck, the way she’d nearly trembled to have his fingers brush against her collarbones —

“It truly isn’t your fault,” he said, and he sounded so terribly pained by it that, despite her frustration and despite his confusing behavior, she felt inclined to believe him. And she could hardly believe it as he lifted a hand to gently run his thumb along the curve of her jaw, her eyes fluttering as she leaned into the touch. “But you must have some idea why we can’t do this. Why I might have needed to create some . . . distance between us, since the last Solstice.”

Elain swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat, her gaze holding Azriel’s as she searched his expression. As she tried to push past all the inner tumult she felt roiling off of him to get to the heart of whatever he must be feeling. That he was letting her see this much at all, that he had drawn so close to her, touched her when he seemed to be so averse to the very idea, was a feat all its own. And it certainly hinted at some great conflict within him.

“Is it Rhysand?” She hardly dared to ask, but once the words had escaped her, there was no shoving them back in. “The look on his face last year, when he came into the room and — and you and I —”

Something in Azriel’s face closed off, became distant and removed as he took in her statement. “He is my High Lord,” he replied, though even the Night Court’s finest spymaster could scarcely disguise how halfhearted it sounded. “If I were to act against his wishes, go behind his back and betray his trust — I couldn’t,” he said.

Elain set her jaw. Paused for a moment, not daring to tear her gaze away from his, as she searched for the right things to say. Would it be better to comfort, to soothe, as had always been her instinct? Or would standing her ground prove the better method here? She had never felt the need to shrink away or make herself smaller, more palatable for Azriel before, and she doubted it would be effective with him if she started now.

  For a heartbeat, she found herself wishing she was a little more like Nesta or Feyre — her fierce, beautifully unapologetic sisters who would have had absolutely no qualms over making a man grovel a bit before accepting any forgiveness. They had never been raised to put kindness over everything else, including one’s own feelings. She had always admired that freedom within them because of it, maybe even been envious of it. To her, it would be as natural as breathing to defer to someone else, to concede an argument in the name of keeping the peace.

But for just a few moments, she truly wished she could march right up to the High Lord of the Night Court himself and give him a piece of her mind.

“He was angry with you,” she said, as if the weight of such a realization had finally settled onto her shoulders. She was no fool, of course, and had suspected Rhysand’s watchful eyes keeping Azriel well away from her for a while, but to have it all but confirmed . . . to know that her sister’s mate truly disapproved so strongly of them being like this . . . “I saw him last year, on the — the staircase. When we were about to — well. I hadn’t realized that he’d given you such a hard time about it afterwards.”

Azriel’s typically calm, steady gaze flickered, and something twisted deep in Elain’s gut. Even without a verbal confirmation, that one look had been enough for her to know the truth.

People occasionally underestimated that about her — how gifted she’d lately become at reading those around her. Perhaps nothing like the shadowsinger’s own skill set, which had been honed through years of the kind of brutality she couldn’t even begin to imagine, but still, a trait she was proud of.

Or maybe it was simply that she’d spent so much time noticing Azriel’s presence, studying him closely, waiting to see if he would do anything, say anything . . . maybe she’d just gotten better at reading him in particular.

“He was right to correct me,” Azriel finally admitted, and she hoped he couldn’t see the flicker of hurt she couldn’t stop from crossing her features — hoped, even though she knew he would. He noticed everything, especially when it came to her. “Things are too tenuous right now between the other courts. The last thing we need is Lucien catching wind of this between us, and—”

“Lucien,” Elain practically spat, finally allowing some of that frustration to swim to the surface from where she usually kept it buried so deep. “Everyone is always so concerned with protecting Lucien’s feelings.”

“It isn’t only his feelings Rhys aims to protect, Elain. A Blood Duel between us, it could mean war.”

  But the explanation was feeble, and both of them knew it. She knew it from the way his eyes kept drifting down to her mouth, to the rise and fall of her chest just above the heart-shaped neckline of her gown.

“Has anyone thought to wonder what I have to say on the subject, then?” she said, and she couldn’t help but feel the briefest sparkle of pride that her voice remained steady, unwavering. “Everyone has given so much thought to what Rhysand thinks, or what Lucien will think. What about what I think? What I wish for myself.”

“What do you want, Elain?” The question was low, pulled from Azriel in barely a whisper.

His words hung in the air between them, a thousand different meanings to attribute to the same statement. What she truly wanted . . . she supposed she’d only recently been given the time and space to think about it. Once, she’d thought that all she’d wanted was to be Graysen’s wife, to be the kind, dutiful human woman he’d always believed her to be. Once, she’d wanted a garden, an enormous field of her own to tend, to escape and ignore the realities of a world for which she’d always been told she was too soft. Once, she had been content to let others direct her wherever they willed, had always just assumed they knew better, since no one had ever given her the chance to try for herself.

Who was she, now that so much had changed? Now that she herself had changed?

It only took a moment for Elain Archeron to decide that what she wanted, more than anything, was to simply be seen for who she truly was. For someone to look at her and not see a pretty, mindless doll that needed constant guarding, or a weakling too afraid to lift her face up from her flowers long enough to truly make a difference in the world . . . but to just see her as Elain. To not reject the softness or demand she shuck away her kindness in order to be respected. To allow her to exist as both someone understanding, empathetic and as someone who would not be taken advantage of.

After all this time, she was tired. Tired of having others’ choices or wills forced upon her. Tired of these so-called unseen forces who were apparently so fit to decide the fates of everyone in the known realm. She had been in that Cauldron. She had seen her sister steal from its very essence. Who was she to answer to its will now, when she and Nesta had both peered into its very soul — and survived it?

Who was she, to allow any Cauldron to choose for her which person she should love?

“I want . . .” she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes again flicked up to meet Azriel’s, any words dying in her throat at the naked yearning in his stare. She was arrested by it — frozen to the spot, even as her heart thrilled at the sight of it.

And she supposed his control slipped — she supposed both of them were alone, and eager, and perhaps still a bit too rosy from the wine to think too much of the consequences any longer — supposed that they both had realized that now was as good a time as any to give up the fight — as the shadowsinger surged forward and pulled her into a kiss that stole her breath.

Her body went molten and deliciously pliant in his arms, and the kisses took on a frenzied, heated edge, their breaths shuddering in the space between them. Those beautiful, scarred hands of his seemed to be everywhere at once — a comforting pressure at the small of her back, between her shoulder blades, sliding along her waist, her ribs, as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her. As if he wanted to drink his fill of her as much as he possibly could, in case they had to stop. In case they came to their senses and realized that they should stop.

But Elain found herself rebelling against the idea, raging against it in her very spirit. Last year, she’d been stopped. Ever since then, all those shared glances, those secret moments passing between the two of them that no one else could notice, those little excuses to touch each other or suddenly become so conspicuously quiet if they had to be in the same room together . . . it had all built up to this. All one grand release of tension, a wave that threatened to sweep her under. And though she was surprised by the force of it, Elain couldn’t bring herself to be entirely afraid.

And the townhouse — the townhouse was empty, she realized as his hands found their way into her hair, as his mouth now trailed its way down the curve of her neck and drew delightful noises from her that she supposed she ought to be embarrassed of making. It was just the two of them here, and they had time, they could —

As if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts, Azriel murmured roughly, “I — I’m expected at the House of Wind soon. Cassian and Nesta, they’re waiting for me.”

Elain had the distinct feeling that Cassian and Nesta were currently engaging in more or less the same activities as them at the moment, but she only breathed, “So we — we’ll make it quick.”

Azriel ran his thumb along the corner of her kiss-swollen mouth, saying thickly, “This — Elain, it’s not the sort of thing I want to do quickly.”

The words alone were enough to set the sudden heat between her legs to pounding. Yes, from the look on his face, she could tell that he’d waited a good long while for this, and didn’t intend to rush it. And the thought of it, the way he seemed so intent on so thoroughly worshiping her —

“Who knows the next time we’ll have a chance at all,” Elain said, praying inwardly that her voice hadn’t taken on a wheedling edge. “I — I can’t bear to go back to how we were before — with you barely looking at me, not even able to touch me if Rhys or the others are in the room.”

“We’ll have another chance, and then some,” he promised her, a ferocity in his voice she hadn’t heard there before. He brought her in for another kiss to punctuate his sentence, this one slower, more luxuriant. “I promise you, I won’t be cold to you any longer. Not if it hurts you, I — I never want to hurt you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she realized for the first time just how badly she’d wanted that reassurance — from anyone, but especially from him. Feeling safe, that was what she wanted. Now that the war with Hybern had ended, now that life had finally started to gain some semblance of settling down again. Now that she was High Fae and had an entire eternity ahead of her.

“Then don’t pull away from me again,” she breathed, and he nodded his head, as if he’d do anything she asked, as if he wouldn’t even question it. “We’ll . . . we’ll do whatever we need to do in order to get by, in front of the others. But this . . . I’d like to continue this with you. In secret. Whenever we can. For as long as we need to, until . . . ”

“Until everyone else can learn to mind their business,” Azriel filled in with the barest of smiles, so soft that to anyone else, it may not have looked like a change in expression at all.

  But Elain knew — she could see it in the way those stunning eyes glinted in the light from the blazing hearth fire.

  So she laughed, a breathy, disbelieving thing, and nodded her head in agreement.

And she knew that sneaking around was dangerous, that Rhys’ wrath if he ever found out would be something to behold, but she couldn’t help herself any longer. Couldn’t stay away.

“In that case,” Elain whispered, her mouth lifting into the beginnings of a playful smirk as she leaned in and nibbled at his ear, “don’t stay away for too long. I hope to continue from where we left off soon.”

Azriel chuckled, low in his throat. “I promise. When you’ve put it that way, how could I do otherwise?” And then, more gently than before, brushing a lock of burnished gold hair from her face: “Happy Solstice, Elain.”

Her only answer was to reel him in for another lingering kiss.

[starlitangels]

S’mores and Cocoa

It’s been a bit since I wrote for Morgan. If you celebrate, Merry Christmas Eve. If you don’t, Happy Saturday! Here’s some vaguely-holiday, vaguely-just-wintry vibes! Thank you so much to the Anon who essentially just gave me this whole fic concept! 2.2k words

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“I’ll admit... I was surprised to get your text,” Morgan said softly as I sat down on the big fluffy rug in front of my fireplace. It was a gas fireplace with pretend logs to make it look like they were the fuel. It didn’t crackle or fizzle. Which was unfortunate. But the heat it gave off was real. And that was enough. I’d rather that than have to actually get firewood constantly.

“Why?” I asked, passing the second mug over to him. He accepted it.

He shrugged and took a careful sip to try not to get the whipped cream on his nose. “I guess I thought you’d rather spend this time with your family,” he said.

I inhaled a deep breath through my nose. “Family... can be hard for me,” I said. “I don’t have to tell you why.”

He bounced his eyebrows. “I get that, definitely,” he said.

“I said in my text not to feel obligated. That if you had other people you wanted to spend tonight with, you didn’t have to feel like you needed to come over.”

“I know,” he replied as I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It was still tongue-burning levels of scalding. I set it on the brick hearth in front of me to let it cool off. “But... I don’t have to tell you why I didn’t want to spend tonight with other people either.” He looked toward the fire, copying me in placing the mug down on the hearth.

“Yeah,” I agreed. I glanced over my shoulder out the living room window. Snow had started to fall. “So... how was your solstice?”

“Same as always,” Morgan replied. “My tolerance for it is... okay. I guess. I can still function if I need to but... I’d rather not, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned back on the rug, bracing his back against my loveseat. “I don’t know how you pretended to be an Illusory for all those years,” he said with a good-humored chuckle.

“What do you mean?”

“Illusories are MoonBound. Seers are SunBound.”

“Well, yeah, sure. But, like, if you don’t see anyone—ever—on either solstice, then no one’s gonna know.”

“You spent all those years isolated on the solstices?” Morgan turned his gaze from the flames to me. I tore my own attention off the fire and met his gaze.

I bobbed my head side-to-side. “Yeah. It’s two days a year. Not the end of the world.”

“Two of the most important days for empowered people. Days meant to be spent with people you care about.”

“Yet. Here we both are. On another one of those days when we should maybe possibly be with people we care about.”

Morgan’s ears went a little red and he turned away from me. “Touché,” he muttered.

I tried another tentative sip. Still too hot. I set the mug back down with a cringe on my face. Morgan watched my movements out of the corner of his eye, just like I was watching him out of the corner of mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Morgan went rigid. “What is it?” he asked.

“I just remembered something. Standby.”

“Uh...”

I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the kitchen. I yanked open my pantry and pulled several things out before bumping the pantry closed with one hip and hurrying back into the living room. I plopped back down. “I thought we could have some fun tonight. I have a bunch of board games in the coat closet on the floor too. But I thought we could start with these while the hot chocolate cools down.”

A beaming smile broke out on Morgan’s face. “It’s... God, it’s been years since I made s’mores,” he said.

I grinned. “Well, then let’s reclaim the nostalgia, shall we?” I held out a skewer stick for him. He chuckled and took it from me, along with the marshmallow I passed over.

I tried very hard not to flare up any magic in embarrassment as his fingers brushed mine.

“How do you like yours?” he asked.

“You first.”

“I can’t stand them burned. A little browning when the edges catch is... fine but not great. I like them golden brown, usually,” he said.

I laughed. “I sometimes don’t do any coloring at all,” I said, stabbing my marshmallow with the skewer and sticking it over the flames. “I’ll just let it puff up and stay white. Because the inside melts into this semi-gooey mess but it’s not so gooey that it loses its... cohesion, I guess? It’s less messy because it’s not as melted.”

Morgan nodded in understanding. “Alright,” he said. “Never heard of that one before.”

I shrugged. “A friend showed me how to do it once and this fireplace is a pain to clean if a marshmallow melts off the stick.”

“Ugh. I’d imagine. Maybe you could try mini-s’mores sometime.”

“How does one mini a s’more?” I asked, more than a little sarcasm touching my tone.

“Tea light candles. Mini marshmallows. Chocolate chips. Teddy Grahams instead of graham crackers. Those little corn holder sticks. My mom and I used to make those together. Before...” Morgan cleared his throat. “Before my powers manifested.”

“That sounds fun,” I said.

“It was. Especially on stormy nights or when the power went out for whatever reason.” He nodded.

“Maybe next time. For this time, I figured some wintry spoiling was in order.” I pulled my marshmallow out of the fire and brought it to my graham cracker, revealing the bag of chocolates I’d bought.

“Oh. My God,” Morgan said, jaw hanging open in ecstatic surprise. “Ghirardelli caramel squares?”

I nodded. “You wanna taste the absolute height of decadence?” I joked.

He took his golden brown marshmallow out of the fire, his shoulder brushing mine slightly, and nodded enthusiastically. I prepped one square for each of us on our graham crackers, finagling a bit to get my marshmallow off the skewer.

“Bon appetit,” Morgan said with a grin.

We “toasted” with our s’mores (lightly tapped the graham cracker corners together), and bit in.

The taste exploded in my mouth. It was beyond delicious. Almost too sweet, but decadently rich. Perfectly balanced between crunchy and chewy. I couldn’t stop the “yummy sound” moan that came out of my throat. Morgan chuckled. His chocolate had melted just slightly, leaving a smudge of it on the corner of his mouth.

“Good?” I asked.

He nodded with great enthusiasm. “This is amazing,” he said. “Thank you.” I tried not to stare when his tongue poked out to lick up the chocolate. “The caramel square really makes this next level.”

“Mmhmm. Truth be told, I’ve never made it with them before. I just saw it on a commercial on YouTube and thought it looked really good and figured we could try it.”

“I’m glad you did,” Morgan said.

I chuckled softly.

“What? What’s so funny?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing’s funny. It’s just... I’m glad you’re a little more comfortable around me now. When we first met you were so... professional and trying to be friendly. Now you’re just... friendly. And I’m glad for it.” I shrugged and took another bite of my s’more. Morgan did too.

“I’m glad too,” he replied. “It’s just... it’s... nice. To have someone who feels like a normal friend, again. I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know someone the normal way since my powers manifested. Obscura are already rare as it is. But... having you... knowing you experience your magic most similarly to me... it’s been nice. I mean, we both thought we were alone. We both thought we were the only one of our kind on the planet. And, by rights, we should have been. Two in one lifetime is unfathomably unlikely. It’s a one-in-trillions chance. And yet, here we both are. And it’s just so nice to not be alone anymore.” He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before continuing, “I’m sorry if I seem socially clumsy around you. It’s just been a long time since I got to know someone the normal way.”

I’d taken a couple bites while he talked, and smiled at him around one. “You’re not clumsy around me,” I reassured him. “And, well, if you are, I haven’t noticed because I’m the same way around you. I’m grateful to have you in my life, Morgan. I know I was standoffish when we first met—I didn’t know how to handle coming forward with my real powers after all those years of hiding them, and it made me stiff. Truth be told, I was scared to meet you. I needed the information about our powers that you had and I lacked, but I was scared.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Morgan said, finishing off his s’more and then testing his hot chocolate. It seemed to have cooled enough for him to take a bigger sip. He paused, scrunching his eyebrows. “Is there caramel in this too, or are my taste buds distracted?”

I laughed. “Vanilla caramel coffee creamer,” I said. “It’s a lot cheaper than buying salted caramel-flavored cocoa mix, and tastes just about as good.”

“I’m stealing that idea.”

I laughed even harder. “Go for it. I stole it from a guy I dated while attending the academy. We broke up like three months in but I kept this idea.”

Morgan chuckled. “Fair enough.”

I finished off my s’more and took a long drink from my hot chocolate too. It was pretty good, if I did say so myself.

We sat in quiet for a few minutes while we drank our cocoa, watching the fire in peaceful silence while the snow fell outside. I bit my lower lip, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Morgan?” I asked after a bit, barely loud enough to be heard over the drone of the gas feeding the fire.

He looked over at me, blue eyes open and honest. “Yeah?”

I took a deep breath, met his gaze, and then looked away. “I know we don’t know each other too well, but I’ve really appreciated the opportunities I’ve had to have you stay in my life.”

“Me too.”

I nodded. “I, uh, I hope this isn’t too... weird. Or forward. But...” I leaned back and pulled a box, wrapped in silvery paper, out from under the end table next to my sofa. “I got you something.” I held it out for him.

He just beamed and popped to his feet. With a few quick movements, he’d run back to where he’d hung his coat on my coat rack next to my front door. When he returned, there was a small box in his hands and he was smiling broadly. “I got you something too. Just didn’t know if-or-when I should bring it up tonight.”

We exchanged boxes. I indicated for him to go first, but he just held his free hand out in a gesture for me to go first instead. I tried to insist, but he shook his head. I sighed with a grin. “Okay.”

I tore open the holographic blue paper to reveal a cardboard box inside. Biting my lip in concentration, I pulled the lid off. 

“Oh my goodness! It’s so cute!” I exclaimed.

It was a clockwork desk toy. A little wind-up frog with all the gears exposed. I would it up and set it on the hardwood floor next to the hearth rug. The gears clicked and it hopped. Once. Twice. Three times before I snatched it up to examine it, grinning wide. I looked up and met Morgan’s eyes.

“I love it!”

The tips of his ears turned a little red. “Thanks. I, uh, I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “It’s hard to shop for someone whose future you can’t see. Can’t get them something they’ll need or want.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” I said as I held the frog in my palm and leaned back on my other hand, gesturing for him to open his.

He smiled gently and popped the tape off one end.

I groaned and rolled my head back. “C’mooon, Morgan,” I complained. “Don’t open it like a professional being formal. Have some fun. Tear it open!”

He laughed and did as I said, his smile growing as he did so. Which made me smile too.

There was a box inside my wrapping job too.

He popped it open.

“Oh my God,” Morgan whispered softly. He pulled out the pocket watch and held it in the air. It was a pocket watch, but the cover had an hourglass embedded into it. Visible from both sides. “Where did you get this?”

“A friend of my family’s is a jeweler. He knew a connection.”

“This is incredible. Thank... thank you.” He met my eyes, and his looked like they were going to start watering.

I looked away quickly. “It’s no big deal. I thought you’d like—Oof!” I was cut off as he slammed me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, careful of the clockwork frog in my hand. “I’m... glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he whispered. “Even more so because it came from you. The only person who knows what magic is like for me.”

I nodded into his shoulder. “I feel the same. Thank you, Morgan.”

“Thank you, too.”

I smiled. “My pleasure.”

—

Tag list: @ryn-halo26

[fox-daddy]

Christmas but not really.

Thanks for the ask and nope this is the first question I've gotten around my Mc's.

I'm going to write 4 versions for this; 1 where my Mc's all live in the same world and then one each focused on when it's just them as the Mc since I feel all four versions would shed light on how they feel about it properly instead of focusing on one perspective.

(Another note is when making the original I was stupid and forgot Julian and Portia are Jewish. Due to not knowing about their holiday and the fact I like to celebrate Christmas as a pagan holiday rather than a christian one due to liking pagan stuff more. 'the date itself and several of the customs we've come to associate with Christmas actually evolved from pagan traditions celebrating the winter solstice.' For this I decided to edit it so it has nothing to do with Christmas but just a holiday celebrated in Vesuvia. Gift giving is pretty much meant to be reminder how much the person you give gifts means to you. Romantic, platonic, etc it's not you HAVE to give anyone gifts but if you do it's a sign you really appreciate that person. Maybe in the original version of the holiday food was the gift you'd give kind of as a 'don't starve during winter I care about you' but evolved overtime to other items.)

When they all live in the same world;

Kyle in both versions with him in it adore the holidays as a chance to both show appreciation for his friends through gifts and through remembering what the holiday is for, reminding those around us how much we adore them. If it's before the game then he'll spend most of the day with Asra and Hunter. While Hunter has no strong feelings for the holiday good or bad they enjoy being able to spend the day hanging around the shop enjoying holiday treats like gingerbread men and pudding. Who can forget the eggnog. Bluebell my poor workaholic tends to spend their day in their clinic being one of if not the only vet in Vesuvia means even during the holidays they don't tend to take long breaks. With chocolate being shared around more it just means more chocolate poisoning and more work. However, Kyle just takes this as a great opportunity to move the small party to their clinic. Waiting until it's closed before going over with Asra, Hunter and a bowl full with hot or sweet foods. As they both help take over some of the work and get Bluebell to take a proper rest for the night, which usually involves Kyle, Hunter and Asra getting drunk while Bluebell makes food. Theirs nothing quiet like good food, good company and a building filled with dogs, cats and other animals.

For when each of them are the Mc without the other;

Kyle;

If were talking a December holiday then with Vesuvia being in the southern hemisphere it would be summer. Going off a July holiday, every since his first one he's adored the holiday. The bright lights, the snow, the smell of fresh cooking and it being the time of the year where people are more conscious of the people around them. Getting and giving gifts only make it that much better. pre-game he'd spend the beginning of the day waking up early and heading outside wrapped up in as many layers as he can without losing mobility to watch the sunrise and play in the snow. Followed by a hot meal inside with Asra before dragging them outside to play in the snow. Then again given the opportunity Kyle would play in the snow everyday. However, due to mild trauma on Asra's part he's not really allowed to play in the snow too much due to always getting sick the next day even if only mildly. Asra even once tried to bring some snow inside which only proved it was Kyle's magic reacting to snow rather than him actually getting sick. Today is one of the exceptions. Closer to midday they have hot drinks and the classic present exchange as 9/10 Kyle is usually given at least one gift that's either a puzzle, book, game, arts and crafts or just something to do as Kyle will usually spend the rest of the day playing with whatever he was given and after an early warm dinner, watching the sunset before going to bed early as typically by this point Kyle starts to feel slightly sick. Although it's almost always cleared up by tomorrow afternoon if not tomorrow night.

if post route with Asra it's mostly the same except Kyle will spend the early morning cuddling in bed with Asra until breakfast where he'll drag the white haired magician outside and then it's mostly the same.

If Nadia's route then Kyle typically follows what Nadia usually does with the exception of the early morning shenanigans where Kyle will sneakily sneak out of bed and set up both a heartwarming message in the snow and work on snowmen/animals around the message. He's not above using magic to make sure it's perfect as he tends to make it owl themed so Chandra can enjoy it too.

Hunter;

pre routes;

To say their first winter holiday was a surprise is an understatement. At first they had ignored the brighter lights and cheerful mood finding the change unsettling to say the least. While it looked to be a solid 50/50 on if they would enjoy it as for the most part they seemed content to spend the day inside around the oven with the stove salamander. However, as soon as they were given their first present it was pretty clear they would enjoy it if for nothing else but the primal urge to tear colorful paper into shreds, only noticing the actual gift when Asra pointed it out as they were too distracted by their destruction of the paper. Ever since they've grown a soft spot for giving people colorful paper for them to destroy to get to the mystery gift inside. Aside from the gifts they tend to have a pretty neutral feeling for the holiday not overly enjoying it anymore than a normal overly cold day but also doesn't hate it. Spending most of the day like it's a normal day.

post routes;

They tend to have a similar feeling to the holiday as Muriel, a normal cold day with the exception of having to give gifts. To say they were both nervous the first holiday together is understatement, Muriel definitely relaxed more realizing Hunter mainly enjoys just destroying the wrapping paper. Aside from a small picnic and presents they tend to spend the day like most overly cold days, 'cuddling' (aka leaning against each other) with Inanna and relaxing by a fire.

When Julian realized Hunter never really did anything special that changed immediately. Being woken up by Julian dragging them out of bed and outside for a snowball fight. Neither of them are above cheating, as they eventually head inside for some breakfast. Before midday they head over to Mazelinka's to start setting up for dinner with some help from Portia. They open presents before enjoying a hot dinner that slowly turns into some light drinking and a night of celebration and the next day to rest. Which yes means Hunter forcing Julian to rest, which is easier when he's hungover.

The day is pretty similar with Portia as well. A hectic morning of fun, evening of heading over to Mazelinka's to start on dinner, opening presents before having dinner and drinking.

Bluebell;

pre route;

My poor workaholic would prefer to try and work and prove themselves as being able to look after themselves as soon as they can. While this is normally a good thing Asra is proud of their is a point where it becomes not so good. So being forced to keep the shop closed wasn't the best news for them at first. However, Asra took it as a chance to try and remind them it's a good time to rest. So to say Bluebell didn't like winter holiday at first was an understatement, they hated it. It felt like they were being forced to rest when they didn't want to. However, as the day went on Asra made sure to show them that resting can be fun. Doing baking, making cards and more baking.

Post route;

Bluebell still struggles with taking time off but dating Lucio helps with that a lot. As much as Bluebell would love to take a new job and do work, it didn't take too much begging convincing for Lucio to get Bluebell to agree to take the day off with him. As they spent a lot of the day wondering around the city they were in. As they end up buying ingredients and gifts. When they get into an inn Bluebell typically uses the kitchen with permission to make a bunch of treats and cookies and gingerbread men and pudding and other treats. Where they'll eventually wind down cuddling in their room with a bunch of treats (yes Bluebell made Mercedes and Melchior dog treats) where they'll exchange gifts usually not wrapped but it's not the wrapping it's watching Lucio react to the fact Bluebell had saved up to get him that expensive item they didn't have money in the budget for but he really wanted.

[gorgeousundertow]

Christmas tag game!

It's Festivus for the rest of us so grab your Chanukah bush, your mistletoe, your pagan ritual or whatever brings you joy and come gather round the fire and celebrate your pocket friends

tagged by @mutantmanifesto

Favourite nickname you’ve ever been given?

Honestly, I only get called by my nickname (Nikki) so when I get called by my full name (Nicola) it feels like a nickname

Where are you located?

Hawai'i

What season is it where you are now?

Winter - and it feels like it! Probably not in comparison to most people, but we don't have heat or insulation and we live in the mountains, so it's 55 degrees F in my house right now.

Favourite tradition this time of year?

I host a winter solstice party for family and a couple of friends. We light candles right when the sun goes down, chant some 'oli, and set some intentions for the coming year.

Favourite holiday food?

My mother-in-law's cookies

Mulled wine, eggnog or hot apple cider?

Mulled wine

Turkey, ham or nut roast (Or Tofurkey?)?

None of the above? I'm in it for the sides

Would you rather spend the december holidays in: a cabin in the woods surrounded by snow, or a house on the beach with sun and sand?

Cabin in the woods with snow--we all want what we can't have

Are you pro-snow or anti-snow?

I'm...pro-snow, but only the first day, and only while it's falling.

Have you ever built a snowman?

Yes.

Skiing or snowboarding?

Neither. I fell off the side of a mountain one time trying to ski, luckily wasn't badly injured, and fell on my face a lot of times trying to snowboard. I don't surf either.

Do you decorate for the holidays?

A little--we have a tree. We used to get branches from the pines behind the house and make a Charlie Brown-ish tree, but that wasn't really working. Last year we got a fake tree, because trying to get dead trees from Home Depot for way too much money felt yucky. Mostly we make wreaths and that feels better.

Favourite holiday movie?

Die Hard is a Christmas Movie

Favourite holiday fanfic?

Hmmm. Well, I guess anything set during Bastogne would count, right? I dunno, they say the word "Christmas" in this one by @irishmizzy and it's pretty great: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98170

If you were to star in a hallmark movie, who would be your love interest?

If he's lanky and British, I'm in.

no pressure tags: @lamialamia, @basilone, @latibvles

[captainsspnanon]

C3E52 - reaction

Things I know from taking a peek at the stream last night:  it’s just group 4, and we got Aabria and Christian as guests.

Ah SNOW BACKGROUND SNOW BACKGROUND I’m a little disappointed it didn’t get heavier, I really can’t wait to see a thunderstorm or blizzard background. They might not actually have it programmed because it could be too distracting, but I WANT IT.

I wonder how recently they filmed this after episode 51?  Laura’s voice is mostly back, but there’s still a definite huskiness to it, which makes me think it’s only been maybe one to two days.

I love that they don’t immediately attack because they assume it’s the guest players coming in, get fucked, and then get very excited when the guests come!  Though at this point I’m a little tired by the exaggerated surprise.  Unless they knew that there were guests but not who it was going to be, which is a possibility?  But one would think that they are aware of who they’re bringing in ahead of time.

Super stoked for Aabria, and ready to give Christian a go.  This does actually make me feel a bit better about Christian though?  Super controversial statement, but when he was first brought it to be the moderator for one of their panels, it felt super corporate decision.  It came more from the fact that when they were promoting him, his acting credits were mentioned, which they haven’t really done for other guests and such, so it felt more like ‘hey prominent currently popular actor of color’ rather than their typical process of bringing in friends. However, since having had Christian in the Nordverse oneshot and bringing him in here really does make it feel that there is the genuine friendship (at least at the level that they use for guest ‘requirements’) rather than just using a currently popular actor for status.

(Sidenote, Aabria with blue hair is fucking GORGEOUS.)

Aabria deliberately coming for Travis’s throat is AMAZING.  GET IT!  (also I’m stoked because Chetney backstory!!!)

I’m a little mixed on Christian’s PC though…. I always get a little iffy when a guest PC comes in with main focus on something that the main PC had going for them specifically.  I was a bit iffy with Erika coming in as someone from the Fey Realm when that was very much Ashley’s thing, a bit iffy with Christian coming in as an aeormaton when that’s Sam’s thing.  Even in C2, I was a bit iffy with Twiggy coming in to do arcane trickster rogue aka Nott’s thing, and Reani coming in to do Yasha’s thing of celestial when Ashley wasn’t even there.  NOW – credit where credit due, I enjoyed all those guest PCs, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy this one as well!  It always just takes a bit of adjusting.   (C1 actually avoided it for the most part except for Lionel, which Travis ran some amazing RP with, actually making it a thing ingame.)

I love Sam joking that Laura’s the main character, but I just KNOW that people who aren’t vibing with the campaign are going to think he’s being serious and use it as an opportunity to tear Laura down.  THE CAST IS AWARE OF INTERNET BULLSHIT!  Remember all the “thanks, Keyleth” comments?  THIS IS THE SAME THING.  All their talk about the show being scripted and that they have to pay for the writers?  SAME THING.

Interesting that Deanna and FRIDA are also pretty anti-gods.  It’s such a change from C1 and C2 attitudes!  (also I’m no longer mixed on FRIDA, love them!  Though not a huge fan of the guest PC being the one to remark on Imogen’s arms, as they only met her 8-9 hours ago.)  I wonder if this is something that Matt maybe nudged them towards, or if this was a decision they made by watching the campaign.  I really wonder if we’ll get also anti-gods PCs with the next group, it would be interesting to have something the opposite!  (though if we are actually near the Hishari, who knows??)

Genuinely surprised that the trip to Uthodurn takes two and a half days.  In EXU Calamity, it made it seem like the Apogee Solstice was a single day thing, maybe even only a 12 hours thing.  Here, the solstice seems like it’s going to be much more spread out, considering there’s already been a week of the leylines appearing before hand.

This may just be my laptop, but is anyone else having bad sound balance this episode?  I have subtitles on to be able to catch some things when needed, but I’m having to rely on them a LOT this episode!  Especially when Christian or Aabria are quieter.

Ruidus stuck in one place with reilora pouring from both directions.  Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool

AAA PVP WITH A WEREWOLF!!!  I was so entranced by the fight that I completely disregarded the fact that Chetney BIT FRIDA until Matt did the con save!  And FRIDA FAILED!!!  WHAT.

This reaction was the first in a while where I typed along for C3, rather than doing wrap up thoughts at the end.  Either way!  Had a blast!!  And I am SO glad that we get an extra long 4SD next week!  I do hope they bring everyone one for it, I’ll be a little disappointed if it’s only the normal four.

[feverfewed]

@betraal

Light snorring fills the air in camp, mixing with the gentle snowfall. Anyone sensible is tucked up in their tent trying to stay warm and taking a well earned rest after a hard day's travel. Ilbryn, who has never claimed to be sensible a day in his life, is sat by the fire, head tipped back to the stars and either ignorant or uncaring of the snow settling in his hair. The sound of footfall shifts his attention back to his surroundings and he smiles as he sees Dae approach.

"My mother always calls tonight i annan-dû thand nan ethuil-onnad - the long night, shield of spring birth. It's rather a longwinded way of saying winter solstice, but that's elven for you I suppose." He shifts along on the log, silently offering Dae the space next to him, should he want it. "Legend has it the very first wood elves were warned that the longest night of the year was approaching by a mouse-hard time to be a mouse, that, if the owls are going to be out for hours. The way my mother tells it the elves showed their thanks to the mice by staying awake all night to guard them against preditors while the mice slept. Not entirely sure how much of that I believe, but I have to admit it would feel wrong not to stay awake and wait for the sun to come back after such a long night."

As always Ilbryn speaks without much thought, and without the need of an answer or input. It's not that he likes the sound of his own voice, exactly, so much as stories like these are always better shared. It's cold, it's dark, and elves guarding sleeping mice is just whimsicle enough that it might stave off some of the gloom. Turning his head back to the sky he hums, thoughtful. "Maybe those elves were just worried the sun wouldn't come back and were too embarissed to admit it, and the mice were just an excuse. Either way I'm going to follow in my ansestors footsteps and forgo my trance for the night. You're welcome to join me if you wish, or to catch up on sleep-goodness knows we all need it."

[sephinot]

Got tagged by @that-one-empty-skull

Rapid fire questions go

1.coke or pepsi? Don't care, just make it sweet

2.disney or dreamworks? DreamWorks def makes the better movies (looking at you, HTTYD)

3.coffee or tea? Coffee unless I'm sick then tea

4.books or movies? Can't decide, either one would be a devastating loss

5.windows or mac? Windows, what even is MAC?

6.dc or marvel? DC bcs Batfamily

7.x-box or playstation? PC Master race

8.dragon age or mass effect? Never played either of them, but dragons are hot soooo

9.night owl or early riser? Switches at random

10.cards or chess? Cards if I'm in a silly goofy mood, chess for serious occasions and special talks

11.chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla

12.vans or converse? My kicks are CAT (and I don't own any other)

13.Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar? I have no clue what that means

14.fluff or angst? Both. Both is good

15.beach or forest? Forest

16.dogs or cats? Cats. And I stg it's not only bcs of warrior cats

17.clear skies or rain? Clear skies

18.cooking or eating out? Cooking...except for the cleanup...

19.spicy food or mild food? Spicy. Can't handle it too well but what's life without pain, right?

20.halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas? I'm blasting Christmas hits in the summer so there you go

21.would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? Too cold

22.if you could have a superpower, what would it be? Stop time. I'd get so much shit done and still be well-rested for the entire day

23.animation or live action? Animation

24.paragon or renegade? The jeep renegade is a superb vehicle

25.baths or showers? Showering while in a bath

26.team cap or team ironman? I dunno man

27.fantasy or sci-fi? fantasy (star wars is fantasy fight me)

28.do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they?

"Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement" - Tolkien (my favourite quote is basically the entirety of LotR I love that books to bits)

"You failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me" - Luke in Ep 6, when he overcomes the dark side

"Mistakes are teachers" - my brother

29.youtube or netflix? Youtube

30.[REDACTED]

[R3D4C73D]

31.when do you feel accomplished?

After a day of work

32.star wars or star trek?

The love people have for star trek is justified and the message and all that runs deeper than most things star wars, but I gotta stay with my first love...

33.paperback books or hardcover books?

Hardcover, looks better on the shelf

34.to live in a world without literature or without music? Either of those means living in a world without me

35.who was the last person to make you laugh?

Some kid at work today

36.city or countryside?

Countryside. With decent wifi pls

37.favorite chips? The kind I can exchange for a ride on a rollercoaster

38.pants or dresses?

Dresses.

39.libraries or museums? Libraries

40.character driven stories or plot driven stories? Character driven tends to resonate better with me

41.bookmarks or folding pages? Folding pages and yes I hate myself for it

42.Dream job? Singer or author

43.What gives you comfort?

Hugs and friends, a sheet of paper and a pen, a good song

44.what are some of your favorite song lyrics?

And today we're all brother/Tonight we're all friends/A moment of peace in a war that never ends

Today we're all brothers/We drink and unite/Now Christmas has arrived and the snow turns the ground white

Sabaton - Christmas Truce

The silence isn't so bad/Til I look at my hands and feel sad/ Cuz the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly

Owl City - Vanilla Twilight

45.favorite ice cream flavor ever?

Mint/after-eight (and yes I also like pineapple on my pizza and I salt my Nutella)

46.first fandom

First active fandom I participated in was either Eragon/Inheritance Cycle or Star Wars when I schooled a ton of adults at my first con at 7 years (I was an obnoxious child)

tagging others, add your own new question at the end if you follow up:

I'm kind of a lurker, I have contact with like one of my mutuals and I dunno who to tag so yeah...if anyone sees this, consider yourself tagged darling

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 19: weal

Today was her nameday. She’d just woken up, and she was dreading it already. The summer solstice was a feast in honor of Azim, and amidst all the roasting of dzo and chugging of kumiss, not too many people had ever bothered to remember it was also one girl’s nameday. Her parents had always set aside the choicest bits of lamb for her, but if anyone else noticed it was only to paint her face with gold paint and parade her between two bonfires, crying to the Dawn Father that one of His acolytes had come. It had rather put a dent in her desires for feasting and dancing.

When she’d washed up in Eorzea, at first she’d resigned herself to being the only person who even knew she was a year older. Except then Rita had asked, and she’d answered, and on the next solstice—and the next, and the next—there had been a little round chocolate cake all for her, with candles on top shaped like the numbers of her new age.

(It hadn’t been the only reason she’d stayed with the Scions, but it certainly hadn’t hurt. The Steppes had never heard of chocolate.)

But she’d been in Garlemald for a year now, and there were no little chocolate cakes. What there were instead, still, were her fellow Xaela, and after the winter solstice bonfires word had gotten out that she was Dawn-touched. A quiet day was definitely out of the question, she thought sourly as she finished applying her face paint.

Someone was knocking on the door of the yurt. While Theo barked frantically as though they’d somehow missed it, Alan got up to open it.

“We need to borrow Gan—”

“No, you do not,” Alan snapped, and slammed the door in the Mol woman’s face.

Gan almost blinked, but that would have messed up the lines. “Not that I’m not thankful, but...” What was that about?

Alan flashed her one of those soft smiles over his shoulder, the one that said without words, I love you, and I’m so glad you’re here. “It’s your nameday. You deserve to be left alone.” He paused, looking oddly guilty, and then added, “I...made sure you’d have time off, too.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Not all alone,” she shot back, just in case her man got any ideas about blending into the wallpaper. Today of all days! “You’re here, aren’t you? And...” She swept her gaze up his body, taking in his fine fur-trimmed coat and snug trousers, and then back down just to linger on those shoulders again. And those thighs. She was a weak mortal woman and it was her nameday, sue her. “Seems you’ve got plans.”

He was blushing. They’d been together for years and he still went red when she looked at him like that, it was adorable. “...Aye,” he muttered. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I thought it would be nice to just...take Theo for a walk. No expectations that we’ll bring back game, no formal patrolling. Just us. Does that sound good? I—I mean, if it doesn’t, we can just—stay in. Do whatever you want.” He was bright red by the time he finished speaking.

“That sounds amazing.” It really did. Once, the merest flake of snow had sent her into shaking fits. But Garlemald had forced her to confront her old, vicious memories, and now...well, she’d never like snow or the cold, but it was incredible how much Alan’s presence warmed her up. Besides, summer in the Magna Glacies was almost bearable if you didn’t mind mud. “Lemme get my coat...”

As she started assembling her various layers, Alan added, “But we have to be back by sundown.”

So there was a time limit. Interesting. Her tail flicked thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Breakfast was tea, piping hot pancakes—with chocolate syrup, and when had they gotten that in?—and well-wishes from her fellow craftsmen. Theo bounded around their feet and then ahead of them as soon as they set out on their leisurely stroll around the perimeter, but she didn’t play tag with him like she normally did. That would’ve deprived her of Alan’s hand at the small of her back, Alan’s quiet laughter against her horn. And if she stopped, overflowing with love, to kiss him breathless behind a tree—well, she didn’t have anywhere else to be.

They made their way back to Laterum eventually, footsore but smiling, and then Alan announced he had another present for her—he’d arranged for private use of one of the baths for two hours, just for them. “So I can take care of your scales for you,” he murmured, but there was a flush to his face and a heat in his voice that let her know her scales were definitely not the only thing he was hoping to take care of.

Gods, she loved this man. Grinning, she breathed, “Lead th’ way.”

He did. And he was very, very thorough.

It was sundown by the time they finished. Alan hurried her past the commissary, which was odd. There was light shining under the door of their yurt, which was odder still. She was aware of quiet voices within.

More importantly, Alan was saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but...” as he opened the door.

“Surprise!”

As far as she knew, Rita was in Thavnair and Hoary Boulder was in Gridania—and yet here they were, grinning at her. They’d been joined not only by most of their other coworkers but Hoelun and Evrard as well. Avery and Thancred had even forgone their usual brooding in corners, though that might’ve just been because yurts didn’t actually have any. Portia was beaming as she joked, “I’d imagine you’re probably bloody sick of seein’ half our faces, but you couldn’t think we’d miss out on your nameday! And the cake!”

“There’s cake?!” she blurted out. And then, “’Scuse me, that’s mine—”

“Not this one,” Rita informed her. She was clearly trying for ruthless, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Your Alan had it special ordered from the Bismarck. It’s a mocha ice cream cake with chocolate ganache frosting and serves about a dozen people. Even you couldn’t eat th’ whole thing by yourself!”

All of a sudden, some of the overheard conversations—alright, overheard threats—Alan had been hissing into his linkpearl made sense. She felt a grin split her face. “Aww, honey...”

He turned lightly pink. “You deserve it.”

She did.

Maybe this nameday would be worth celebrating after all.

[joylee56]

We Have Snow for Solstice, Rather Too Much of It

A Rumbelle Secret Santa Gift for #Idesignedthefjords Summary: Solstice is approaching. Rumple is away and Belle is snowed in at the Dark Castle. Will he make it home for the holiday? And what is causing this mysterious and foul weather? ....... Snow fell from gray skies. At least Belle assumed they were still gray. Peeking through the curtains that she had reluctantly replaced on the windows when the temperature had dropped below freezing, she could only see white flakes descending. Well, the curtains that Rumplestiltskin had replaced. Since she fell from the ladder while taking down the curtains she had been forbidden from climbing anything higher than her waist, “Have to protect my investment, Dearie. Might not be there to catch you next time.” Dropping the curtains back in place she sighed and returned to the chair she had pulled up close to the fire. The blizzard had started shortly after Rumplestiltskin had left with the Hatter. They were headed for another realm. One where an evil wizard had raised an army of Orcs. Apparently Rumple was going to trade some magical potions which allowed the user to determine if someone was under the influence of the evil wizard for an elvish blade which gave the bearer endurance ‘beyond the scope of man’. “Which I interpret to mean at least as much as your average elf.” Rumple had told her. “And no, you may not come with me. We’re going into the middle of a war zone. I would have thought you’d have had enough to those.” She had actually. Although it would have been interesting to see an entire community of elves. So she had packed several days rations for Rumple and Jefferson and waived them on their way. That was a fortnight and a half ago. She was getting very concerned. In this weather it was not surprising that the driver from the village who made the weekly delivery of supplies had not been able to get up the mountain road that led to the Dark Castle. The larder was well enough stocked with staples that she was not going to run out of food any time soon. The menu was growing a trifle repetitive, but having lived on short rations during the war with the Ogres she was certainly not going to complain about having to make do with dried fruit rather than cream on her morning porridge. What concerned her was that the Castle had started to cut back on the fires it kept going. Normally she found them blazing away in any room she happened to wander into. Over the last week though the fires had decreased to three. One in the Great Hall, the kitchen oven and a small blaze lit only in the morning when she awoke and when she went up to bed in the bedroom she now shared with Rumple. She moved to the master suite after her nearly disastrous return from her run in with the Evil Queen. She would light a candle this Solstice in thanks that she had been able to able to make him understand that she had not been trying to steal his power with the kiss, but had been duped by Regina. If he had not listened she suspected things could have gone very badly. Now she wore a golden armband that kept her kisses (and other activities) from stealing away his power. It was not lost on her that the armband had been made to resembled the ribbon ties the people in these lands used in their binding ceremonies. She hoped her candle would not be the only fire they had left this Solstice. Despite the way the castle was cutting back on fires the wood pile along the wall of the snow covered kitchen garden did not seem to be running low. It renewed regularly through magic. It appeared that the Castle itself was conserving magic for some reason. Belle had no idea whether the Castle operated off some supply of magic of its own or whether Rumple kept it going directly. If the former it might mean that it was conserving because this blizzard was putting a strain on its ability to keep up with the cold and so it was deliberately cutting back to make sure the most used rooms stayed warm. If the latter… She really did not want to think about what it meant if Rumple had found it necessary to conserve on the magic he was using. It had not taken long for her to realize that when Rumple said all magic comes with a price he was not talking about some merchant like transaction he was making, but rather the costs pf producing the magic itself. It appeared the magic set a price when it was called upon. Usually Rumple set his deals up so that the person receiving the benefit of the magic provided something that met the magic’s requirements for what was owed. It made her rather proud that she, or rather her service, had been deemed worthy of the cost of ending the war and driving the Ogres from her homeland. According to Jefferson, the people of her Duchy understood what she had done and honored her for it, even if her father and Gaston did not. If Rumple needed to conserve magic to the point where he was rationing it to the Dark Castle it meant either he could not find someone to pay the price of the magic or he was using it for his own purpose and he had to pay directly. Both options left her deeply concerned about his welfare. Not that she could do anything. Sighing she went back to braiding gold thread into a cord which she was turning into bows and little bobbles to decorate the Great Hall. She had a few yards of ribbon to add to the decorating, but a few yards did not go very far in decorating a room the size of the Hall. At home there would have been swathes of bunting draping the room, along with greenery and candles. She could come up with candles, but without the cloth it all looked rather stark even with the gold decorations she was making. Late in the day just as Belle was thinking about dinner she heard the doors of the entry hall slam open. “Rumple?” She was only half way to the doors of the Great Hall when they burst open and a very wet Dark One strode in. Tossing the sword he carried on the table, he stripped off a dripping cloak to reveal an only slightly dryer coat and leather trousers. His boots made squishing sounds and left tiny puddles in his wake. “Why is snow piled up blocking the gates and the main doors and why the fuck is it so cold in here?” “Thank the Gods you’re home. I was so worried.” Still she stopped short of embracing him. Aside from not wanting to get wet, he had the outraged look of a cat that had fallen into the bath. His hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. “Here let me help you with that. How did you get so wet?” “The wards around the castle, which should be sending the worst of this snow outside the grounds, decided to repel the portal from Jefferson’s hat instead and dumped us into the biggest snow bank I’ve ever seen.” He let Belle strip off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, leaving him bare chested and shivering. Belle grabbed the lap rug she had been using and draped it over his shoulders. “Where’s Jefferson?” She glanced back toward the entry hall. “You didn’t leave him out in the snow?” “Jefferson, wisely, took one look at the snow, spun his hat and headed home.” Rumple pulled the lap rug around himself and sat down in the chair next to the fire to start unlacing his boots. Belle knelt next to him to start on the other boot. She knew from experience this was a several minute task. “He’s not staying for Solstice after all?” It had actually been Rumple’s idea that they have Jefferson and his daughter for Solstice dinner. Suggesting in an off hand way, “You should ask him, Dearie. Give you both a bit of company.” It was only after she had done so and Jefferson had gratefully accepted that it occurred to her that a widower with a young daughter might have neither the means nor the skills to provide the girl with a Solstice feast. “He needed to go home to get Grace anyway.” Rumple reassured her. “He’ll be back tomorrow night. “Assuming he can get here.” He growled. “When did the spells to clear the snow around the castle stop working?” “I’m not sure they have.” There had been plenty of time for her to consider this. “It’s just the blizzard has been going on almost the entire time you’ve been gone. I think they’re working. They just can’t keep up.” Rumple stopped midway through unlacing his boot. “The blizzard has been going for three weeks>?!” “It hasn’t let up at all,” Belle told him. “That’s not… natural is it?” “No.” Rumple agreed. “Even the worst blizzards I’ve seen, and I’ve seen my share, start and stop.” He signed. “I’m going to have to look into this. But I want my tea and some food before I do. Not to mention a bath and dry clothes.” There more than enough of the soup she had prepared for both of them for dinner. But she toasted some of the bread and melted cheese on it as well to make it a heartier meal. She had never seen Rumple affected by the cold before. She had the table set and the food in place by the time he came down from his bath. His usual leather replaced with heavy wool in a deep burgundy. It was a good look on him. He took the cup of tea from her with gratitude. Then noticed, “Where is the lemon?” “We’re out.” “Out?” Frowning he sipped the tea anyway. “There hasn’t been a delivery of supplies since you left.” Belle told him. “No word at all from the village. I assumed it was because of the weather.” “The town hasn’t been late in delivering supplies in a century.” Rumple narrowed his eyes. “I need to go down to the village and check. If someone has been interfering with my lands...” “First eat your dinner.” Belle directed. “After three weeks a half an hour won’t make much difference. And if it is only the weather, there are supplies I would like to have for Solstice. I’ll make a list.” By the time she was half way through explaining the list, Rumple decided, “You might as well come with me and do your own shopping. If there is something amiss down there I’ll just port you back to the castle.” Rumple said he was transporting them to the village headwoman’s door. And dramatically pounded on it when they reached it. “You’ll frighten them.” Belle admonished. “If they failed to deliver supplies because there was a little snow to inconvenience them, they deserve to be frightened.” Rumple growled. Belle rather pointedly looked around the village square. The snow removal magic seemed to be doing a slightly better job of keeping the streets clear than it was the castle grounds, but there was only a single track and the piles of snow that had been cleared from the roads towered over their heads. “A little snow?” The door swung open. “Praise be! Rumplestiltskin, you’re all right! We were afraid…” A tall woman with graying hair and a soldier's build waved them into the house. “Just what were you so afraid of that my share of supplies has not been delivered, Liath Luachra?” The, presumably, headwoman was clearly well enough acquainted with Rumple that his posturing did not intimidate her. “There was an avalanche just past Old McDonald’s farm. The road to the castle is blocked, which is why the supplies didn’t get delivered. McDonald’s grandsons have been trying to dig a path so they could at least ferry some of the supplies up by mule, but the snow hasn’t let up and they’ve only been able to get as far as the Widow Ramsey’s place. Her hired man fell from the roof trying to clear it and they had to bring him back to town so the healer could treat his concussion. “What frighted us was that you didn’t turn up to stop the storm or at least clear roads.” Luachra, went to her fire and held up a kettle. “Peppermint tea?” “Yes, please.” Belle accepted for both of them. “Ah, Lady Belle, may I present Liath Luachra the village headwoman.” Rumple dropped his posturing and introduced her. “Luachra, the Lady Belle.” “Honored to have you in my house, my lady.” Luachra gave her something between a bow and a curtsy. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Belle took the offered tea. Glad to have something to warm her hands. The civilities taken care of, Luachra got back to business. “Now that you’re here, can you clear the roads? At least to the point of keeping them passable? It’s not just getting up to the castle. The road down to the river is blocked as well. Nobody is going to go hungry, but there are a lot of trade goods stacking up and some of them are perishable.” Rumple frowned. “It’s a tricky bit of magic. The snow needs to be removed quickly enough to keep the roads clear, but not so quickly some of it melts and stays on the road to freeze. That’s why the snow has backed up. It’s been coming down faster than the spell is set to remove it. I’ll have to be careful in shifting it at this point or some of it could melt and we’ll either have an ice rink or flooding. Not to mention we don’t want to accidentally dump several hundred barrels of snow on top of someone’s barn or worse head.” “Uhm, no,” Luachra agreed. “That would be bad.” “I’ll need to do a bit of calculating.” He pulled a coil of paper from an inside pocket along with a quill. “In the meantime take Lady Belle and help her complete her shopping. After I’ve taken care of the roads I want to look into what’s causing this blizzard. Has anyone reported anything or anyone unusual?” “Healer Beth says this kind of storm is not natural, but she hasn’t enough magic to be able to tell much more than that.” Luachra shrugged into a sheepskin jacket. “What sort of shopping do you need to do, my lady?” Most of the food items Belle wanted were already part of the supplies that were waiting to be taken to the castle. Luachra took her to the butcher for the suckling pig Belle decided to roast for the Solstice feast. As the butcher packaged it up, Belle realized. “Rumplestiltskin didn’t give me any coin. Does the castle have an account?” “In a way.” Luachra lounged against the pickle barrel. “We keep track of what goes to the castle and at the end of the quarter each tradesman sets off their contribution against their tax liability. If it’s more than they owe, Rumplestiltskin either balances the account with gold, or more usually someone else barters goods with them for an offset on their taxes.” “Rumple collects taxes?” She should not be surprised. These were his lands and it was a lord’s right. “He takes a share out in supplies for the castle. The bulk goes for things like road maintenance and paying the teachers and healer.” Luachra told her. Handing over the pig, dressed and wrapped for ease of carrying, the butcher put in. “We pay half of what they do down the river valley and get far more for our money.” “It helps that Rumplestiltskin doesn’t have to pass a third of what he collects to one of the monarchs.” Luachra put in. “And the supplies for the castle amount to so little we’ve plenty left for up keep on the town.” Belle had noticed that the town appeared prosperous and well kept up. “So you don’t mind living under the Dark Ones shadow?” The butcher snorted. “My cousin always asks that. Worries that I’m being ‘corrupted’ by dark magic. I don’t know what ‘corruption’ looks like, but I do know I don’t have to worry about M’ Lord taking my children to fight some war or warm his bed. “Uhm, not that I meant…” The butcher suddenly looked very worried. Belle smiled at the poor man to ease his concern. “I took no offense. My… position at the Dark Castle is by choice not coercion.” By the time Belle picked up the fabric she needed to finished her decorating the streets of the village were starting to clear. Rumple was waiting for her. “I’ll take you and the supplies back to the castle, but then I need to head over the Northern Sea. From what Healer Beth was able to tell me it looks like this blizzard is coming in from across the sea. My guess is some idiot over there with more power than sense cast a spell to change the wind patterns and send us their storms in addition to our own. Once I locate the source I can cancel it and let the wind patterns go back to normal. It will take a few days for everything sorts itself out.” “Can’t you just,” Luachra made a sweep with her hands as though brushing the storm away. Rumple sighed. “I could. But weather is a chancy thing. Sending away the storm now could very well result in a drought this summer. Better not to mess with it.” Dropping her in the kitchen along with the supplies. Rumple told her, “The source of this mess should stand out like a beacon. A lot of magic went into it. In all likelihood I’ll be back by breakfast. If it takes longer than I expect you’ll have Jefferson and Grace to keep you company for Solstice.” “I’d rather have you.” Hugging him through all their outerwear was not very satisfying. “Hurry home? I missed you.” After a long lingering kiss, Rumple said, “And I you. I’ll be quick as I can. This idiot who’s playing about with the weather has a lot to answer for. I was looking forward to sleeping beside you tonight.” “Just sleeping?” Belle grinned. “Get a long with you, minx.” He swatted her backside. “We’ve both work to do. Rumple did make it back it back by breakfast. By which time Belle was elbow deep in Solstice dinner preparation and had no time for anything more enjoyable if she was to be ready for Jefferson and Grace. He helped peel vegetables as he told her about tracking down the mage who had done the casting. “Damn fool cast the spell so that the idiot Prince he works for could have a hunt on his name day. Then miscalculated when he tried to stop it and made it worse. Well at least I got some pearls and the promise of a future favor from him out of the deal when I corrected it.” Two of the pearls he’d gotten were mounted on earrings and now adorned Belle’s ears. “So the blizzard should let up soon?” “Be a few days before it blows out, but it’s already started lessening.” Rumple dropped the last of the parsnips into the bowl. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to get some sleep before our guests arrive.” As he did not suggest she join him, he clearly needed it. She shooed him off to bed. Solstice dinner was shaping up nicely. The suckling pig, which had been Belle’s greatest concern seemed to be cooking thoroughly without burning the skin. A prospect the cook in her father’s castle had always feared when preparing the meal in Belle’s childhood. She had collected the drippings for some Yorkshire pudding and popped it in with the potatoes, other vegetables, and pears she was roasting. Everything seemed to be coming along nicely. The mead, fudge and gingerbread she had prepared in advance. She was also cooking Grünkohl with Bremer pinkel for herself. Her grandmother had always insisted on the kale and sausage dish at Solstice and it would hardly seem like a Solstice feast without it. Jefferson had arrived with his daughter a while ago. The girl had shyly presented her with a fruitcake. “Papa and I made it. I hope you like it.” “I’m sure it will be delicious. Thank you.” Belle had told her. Adding the fruitcake to the other sweets she had placed on the table. “And I have presents for you and Rumplestiltskin.” Grace announced. Turning to Rumple, she added severely, “And you’re not allowed to peek into it’s time to open them.” Rumple mimed shock. “Me? You think I would do such a thing?” “Yes.” The girl told him bluntly. Jefferson laughed. Rumple grinned. “Well you’d best keep me busy until sundown then. Shall we see if we can beat your father at dice?” Belle had left them playing to check on the food. She was just taking the pig from the oven when Grace appeared. “Rumpelstiltskin says it’s nearly sundown and you should come up to light the Yule log and candles.” “That was good timing. Here you can help me carry the food up.” In the end it took all of them to ferry the food to the table. The roast pig surrounded by roasted vegetables and pears looked especially festive. After everyone had eaten their fill presents were exchanged. Rumple had picked out a lovely green wool and some matching linen for new dress for Grace and more of the linen and some green silk with gold embroidery to be made into a waistcoat for Jefferson. Belle had added a book for each of them. “We shall look very grand in our new clothes.” Jefferson declared. “Thank you.” Grace had embroidered a handkerchief for both her and Rumple. Who declared, “These are very well done, Gracie. I shall show it off the next time I meet with the Queen. I doubt she has any as fine.” Jefferson had brought her a box of oranges from Avonlea. She and Grace split one as they were both too full to eat one entirely. “Thank you so much. We always had these for Solstice before the war.” “I thought you’d enjoy a taste of home.” He told her. “And for our host. He produced a bottle and handed it to Rumple. “Frontland’s single malt?” Rumple took the bottle carefully. “Ye Gods, Jefferson, who did you have to kill to get this?” “Let’s just say there is a clan leader who badly needed to get as far away from an irate husband as he could and was willing to part with it. Is it really that good? I mean they make whiskey all across the northern lands.” Three small glasses appeared on the table. “You’ll try some and see.” To Belle it was far too strong and she let Rumple finish off her glass. Jefferson, however, sipped his and went wide eyed with pleasure. “That is smooth!” “What did you get cloth for new clothes for Solstice as well, Lady Belle.” Grace asked her, uninterested in the liquor. “Rumple brought me back a lovely blue silk robe from the eastern lands.” Belle told her. “That sounds pretty.” Grace agreed. For some reason Jefferson was glancing uncomfortably between herself and Rumple. After a few more minutes of conversation, Belle rose to clear the table. “Let me help.” Jefferson jumped up to get his and Grace’s dishes. “You’re a guest. Belle objected. Jefferson’s smile was a bit forced. “And in houses where the hostess does the cooking it is considered good manners to help her clean up, my lady.” Her disbelief must have shown as Rumple commented. “It’s fine Dearie. Meals are a more collaborative effort when servants are few or nonexistent. Let him help. Gracie has promised me a rematch of our last game of backgammon.” She put the large kettle on for water for the dish washing as Jefferson brought down the dishes and left over food. After he had everything in the kitchen she started to box up some of the food for him to take home. Leaning against the counter, he cleared his throat nervously. “Belle, I hope you regard me as a friend.” “Of course I do Jefferson.” She wondered where this was going. “So I won’t be overstepping by saying...” He seemed to be having trouble finding words for what he had to say. “If you need to get away from here there are lands I could take you to that Rumplestiltskin can’t reach unless I take him. You’d be safe from him.” “I’m perfectly safe right here. Why would you think otherwise?” Jefferson pursed his lips. “I saw the silk robes he was looking at when we were in the east. That was not the kind of garment one buys for ones maid. If he’s taking liberties...” Belle had to laugh. “Oh, Jefferson. You’re very kind, but I’m the one that took the ‘liberties’. Rumple offered to let me leave and I turned him down. Well, I went to the village and come back, but it amounts to the same thing.” “Are you sure?” Jefferson was not convinced. “Sometimes women… become attached to their captors. You don’t have to stay if he’s forcing you to… do things.” “I’m sure I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.” Belle told him. “And I was never his captive. I made a deal of my own free will. I’ll grant you I thought he was going to demand ‘things’ of me when I first came, but he never did. He’s really a very sweet man under all his posturing.” “Sweet?” Jefferson laughed. “it must be true love if you can look at the Dark One and call him sweet. Well, I’m glad to hear you’re happy here, but if that ever changes my offer stands.” “And I thank you, but there’s no need.” She assured him. After seeing their guests off, Belle went upstairs to bathe and change into her new robe. After brushing out her hair, she headed into the bedroom. He was already in bed reading as he waited for her. She paused just before the fire as she entered. Giving him a good look at the how well the silk of the robe complimented her coloring. Taking her in he grinned, “Ah, I knew that blue would match your eyes. You look lovey, my dear.” “Thank you.” She took off the robe and slid into bed next to him. “You caused Jefferson a good deal of consternation buying that robe you know. He was very much afraid that he would need to rescue me from your evil intentions. He offered to take me away to somewhere you couldn’t follow.” “And what did you tell him?” “That if anyone needed rescuing it was you.” She leaned in to kiss him. “As I fully expected to finish my Solstice celebration by thoroughly ravishing you.” “I am at your disposal.” “Good.” She straddled his hips. “Happy Solstice my love.” He pulled her down into a deep kiss. “The happiest I’ve had in centuries, my dear.”