#manon weaver

[thegrayascendancy-if]

Hello! First I'd like to say that I've absolutely enjoyed reading your work so far! The characters are intriguing and so is the premise. Your writing is very smooth, for lack of a better word, but I very much mean that as a compliment! I also have a question (I apologize if it's already been asked): is Mort's name a reference to the french word? And more generally, did anything in particular inspire the names of the major characters? :)

Thank you, sweet anon! Your message warms my heart 🤍

Mort's name is certainly intentional. Isn't "death" a rather apt name for a healer? :)

If you take a closer look at them, some of the names do tend to follow patterns. The last names of the ruling bloodlines of both mages and Daelan are of French origin*, for example: Arnaud (eagle + power) and le Tellier (weaver). On the contrary, Arthur's lineage, van der Garde, needed differentiation, hence the sort of Dutch* last name and "margrave" instead of "marquis".

In line with that, some of the characters have French names: Manon and Yvette/Yves, for instance. Regarding the latter, in the game's ideation phase, the Gray Regent was female, and Yvette just sort of popped into my head and stayed. Lo and behold, when I decided on making them gender-selectable, the name already had a perfect male counterpart (both mean "yew"), so that was a happy accident, I guess!

I wanted something tender for a name to accentuate Darla's armor-clad look and brash attitude, so that was the inspiration behind her name. For Jax, I always knew their name would be quite gender-neutral and sort of sharp, business-like to reflect the way they carry themself. Gale's doesn't have any particular significance other than sounding rather princely to me. For Arthur it's simply that all my writing has to have an Arthur in it, so that's just a personal quirk. And last but not least, I knew the character that would later be known as Ianthe would have a name from Greek mythology, and I wanted something ethereal, something that sounds like it might just slip through your fingers.

*[at least according to the internet®]

[nikethestatue]

I would like to ask you which HC is quite accepted in the Elriel fandom but you don't like it?

Elriel being spies and Elain becoming one.

Elain being a witch.

Elain being a healer.

Don't particularly care for any of those.

Mostly because it's all been done before, I don't like for Elain to be a repetition of another character. She is not Manon or Jesiba. Or some Weaver-like witch of the woods.

She is not Fury, or Nesryn, or Danika, or even Elide and Feyre.

She is not Yrene.

I don't want her to be Azriel's sidekick, like Nesta became Cassian's.

I want her to be uniquely her.

Give me Elain who controls Fanged Beasts or becomes one herself.

Give me Elain who rides in the Wild Hunt with Death Gods.

Give me Elain who revives dead Courts or opens up Rifts.

Give me Elain who has the power of the Four Elements.

Give me Elain who negotiates with the Princes of Hel or the Daglan.

Don't give me a recycled version of someone else. Give me a unique character who is powerful and wily and terrifying all at once.

[wandyring]

aesthetic sideblog to @wandyrlust​. do not follow.       ✧ main blog       ✧ resources.

tags.

Wanted Faceclaims Musings Cassian Eris Vanserra Gwyneth Berdara Kallias Morrigan Lucien Vanserra Nesta Archeron Rhysand Emily Nelson Barbie Casteel Da’Neer Kieran Contou Poppy Balfour Aidas Baxian Argos Fury Axtar Hunt Athalar Hypaxia Enador Ithan Holstrom Jesiba Roga Ruhn Danaan Tharion Ketos Tristan Flynn Percival de Rolo Vax’ildan Vessar Matthew Murdock Jess Mariano Blair Waldorf Dan Humphrey Nate Archibald Serena Van Der Woodsen David Kostyk Jesper Fahey Matthias Helvar Cardan Greenbriar Larkin “The Ghost” Garret Dabria Marcie Millar Patch Cipriano Brianna Randall Fraser John Grey Tiberias Calore Evangeline Samos Leon S. Kennedy Velma Dinkley Dean Winchester Chaol Westfall Dorian Havilliard Kaltain Rompier Lorcan Salvaterre Manon Blackbeak Rowan Whitethorn Sam Cortland Omen Reyna Bonnie Bennett Elijah Mikaelson Liv Parker Rebekah Mikaelson Stefan Salvatore Tyler Lockwood Alicia Clark Althea Szewczyk-Przygocki Glenn Rhee Judith Grimes Maggie Greene/Rhee Rick Grimes Rosita Espinosa Geralt of Rivia Bigby Wolf Alba de Rossi Apollo Stockholme Ezra Castor Merritt Ward Amaris of the Night Court Ava Vanserra-Livianus Emil Rose Isolde Taeyang Gray Lambert Kai Wildgazer Zelda Ysiris Isaac Crane Knox of Fenmont Roman Gray Wes Engerman Zariah Arkour Calixta Verak Lore Weaver Magdalena Leblanc Seraphina

[offtorivendell]

I love that you linked Manon's invisible current with the Cauldron's swirling eddies, but now I'm thinking again of "the rock against which the surf crashes."

This is a bit of an aside, sorry, but I included in this post - I think, I've lost track of what I included where hahaha - that if the Void/Space Between is "the sea" referred to in the Weaver's Song, that "the surf" could be an onslaught against which the Valkyries defend, and Hope is necessary in such times! It's also very interesting that Gwyn thanked the Cauldron that Merrill had moved on to researching the ancient Valkyries, when discussing it with Nesta.

I love it when our theories mesh well together. 🤌🏻

Three Witches Sisters

Thank you to @offtorivendell, @silverlinedeyes, and @psychologynerd for our discussions which inspired this theory. This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there may be spoilers for all Maas series. Please proceed with caution.

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers…” (Amren, acosf)

The acotar series begins with three sisters: Feyre, Nesta, and Elain. Given their ironwood origins and the fact that Ironteeth witches in Erilea use it to carve their brooms, many of us suspect the sisters have witch heritage or are connected to witches in some way.

The room was large enough for a rickety dresser and the enormous ironwood bed we slept in. The sole remnant of our former wealth, it had been ordered as a wedding gift from my father to my mother. It was the bed in which we’d been born, and the bed in which my mother died. In all the painting I’d done to our house these past few years, I’d never touched it. (acotar)

In Midgard and Erilea, witches worship the Three-Faced Goddess, and she is sometimes conflated with Fate…

Again, Manon felt that ebb and flow in the world, that invisible current that some called Fate and some called the loom of the Three-Faced Goddess. (hof)

In this quote, Manon feels an invisible current that goes by different names. That current sounds a lot like Urd in Midgard, Wyrd in Erilea, and the divine trio (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be) in Prythian. The Fae believe this being controls fate, including fated bonds. Bonds, like spells, are described in terms of threads. Does this being weave threads of fate together with her loom, like witches seem to believe? She (they?) appears to be inspired by the Norns of Norse mythology, one of which is named Urðr (Wyrd). Together, these wise women preside over fate. In some folklore and literature, they are considered witches, like the Three Witches or Wyrd (Weird) Sisters in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, who deliver a prophecy.

The Three-Faced Goddess is also known, albeit rarely, as the Three-Faced Mother:

Manon couldn’t look at them, couldn’t do anything but close her eyes and pray to the Darkness, to the Three-Faced Mother as she held her hands over the bleeding gashes. (koa)

I’ve talked about links between the Archerons, witches, Three-Faced Goddess, and divine trio (Mother, Cauldron, Fate) before, so this isn’t new, but something caught my attention when reviewing the text recently. Ironteeth witches believe that they return to the Three-Faced Goddess when they die, and they are reborn within her womb. It’s called the Mother’s Womb.

“We’ll collect the dead tomorrow,” Manon said, her voice low. “And burn them at moonrise.” As both Crochans and Ironteeth did. A full moon tomorrow—the Mother’s Womb. A good moon to be burned. To be returned to the Three-Faced Goddess, and reborn within that womb. (koa)

This belief reminded me of the three sisters’ rebirth, particularly Nesta and Elain. We gain insight into this experience in Nesta’s book:

In the beginning

And in the end

There was Darkness

And nothing more

She did not feel the cold as she sank into a sea that had no bottom, no horizon, no surface. But she felt the burning.

Immortality was not a serene youth.

[…]

They would pay. All of them.

Starting with this Cauldron.

Starting now.

She tore into the darkness with talons and teeth. Rent and cleaves and shredded.

And the dark eternity around her shuddered. Bucked. Thrashed.

She laughed as it recoiled. Laughed around the mouthful of raw power she ripped out and swallowed whole; laughed at the fistfuls of eternity she shoved into her heart, her veins.

[…]

Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star. (acosf)

While Feyre is not reborn in the Cauldron, we do get insight into her experience. When telling the Bone Carver about what appeared to her after death, she said this:

But if he knew … I turned again to the boy-creature. “There was a choice—in Death,” I said.

[…]

“I knew,” I went on, “that I could drift away into the dark. And I chose to fight—to hold on for a bit longer. Yet I knew if I wanted, I could have faded. And maybe it would be a new world, a realm of rest and peace. But I wasn’t ready for it—not to go there alone. I knew there was something else waiting beyond that dark. Something good.”

[…]

“I knew there was no coming back from what I’d done,” I said, wondering if the blue flame in the Carver’s eyes might burn my ruined soul to ash. “And once I broke their curse, once I knew I’d saved them, I just wanted enough time to turn that dagger on myself. I only decided I wanted to live when she killed me, and I knew I had not finished whatever…whatever it was I’d been born to do.” (acomaf)

Feyre was broken, but she wasn’t finished with whatever it was she had been born to do. Nesta also chose to fight in the Cauldron like a warrior. When we finally get insight into Elain’s rebirth, I am willing to bet that she fought with her own brand of strength.

It’s clear the dark womb of the Three-Faced Goddess is the same divine trio (Mother, Cauldron, Fate) the Fae in Prythian worship. When discussing the sisters in acosf, Amren emphasizes, there are no flukes, and the Cauldron—like the invisible current Manon described—can influence others without their awareness, especially those it has reforged. The sisters are blessed by fate with immortality and rare gifts for a reason. What plans does it have for them, and who would it enlist to help them on their path?

“May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters,” said the pale-robed young woman directly in our path. (acolyte, acotar)

From the beginning of the series, various religious influences have played a role in the sisters’ journey. Children of the Blessed are the first religious influence we see, and they are largely reviled as religious fanatics by humans. The acolyte who blesses the sisters wears pale blue robes like Fae priestesses, and it is this blessing that serves as foreshadowing for their immortal fate. The acolytes’ imitation of Fae priestesses also makes me wonder if they are part of the priestesses’ extensive spy network.

Like witches, Fae priestesses worship the divine trio, and in their full garb, they represent the Voice of the Cauldron:

Ianthe had shown me once what the panel looked like when down: only her nose and full, sensuous mouth visible. The Voice of the Cauldron. I’d found the image unsettling—that merely covering the upper part of her face had somehow turned the bright, cunning female into an effigy, into something Other. (acomaf)

Their powers stem from their rituals and they can be deadly, if desired:

Among the High Fae, the priestesses oversaw their ceremonies and rituals, recorded their histories and legends, and advised their lords and ladies in matters great and trivial. I hadn’t witnessed any magic from her, but when I’d asked Lucien, he’d frowned and said their magic was drawn from their ceremonies, and could be utterly lethal should they choose it. (acomaf)

It was a High Priestess who informed Hybern about Feyre’s sisters, leading to their eventual capture and rebirth. Hybern also possessed the Cauldron at the time—did it influence him and Ianthe, weave their actions like threads in a tapestry?

Lucien’s face had slackened. “She sold out—she sold out Feyre’s family. To you.”

I had told Ianthe everything about my sisters. She had asked. Asked who they were, where they lived. And I had been so stupid, so broken … I had fed her every detail.

“Sold out?” The king snorted. “Or saved from the shackles of mortal death? Ianthe suggested they were both strong-willed women, like their sister. No doubt they’ll survive. And prove to our queens it can be done. If one has the strength.” (acomaf)

According to the Bone Carver, dark makers created the Book of Breathings and used the Cauldron to make terrible things. The Book of Breathings can control or nullify the Cauldron, and because like calls to like, only someone who is Made can speak the spells and wield its power.

As three Made sisters with potential witch heritage, were the Archerons chosen to wield the divine trio's power, a Three-Faced Goddess in the flesh? Each sister is associated with a different kind of light, so could they be light makers? And is that ultimately what it means to be Starborn? Blessed by fate, their purpose written in the stars or woven into the Goddess's loom...

The weaver went on, "I have to create, or it was all for nothing. I have to create, or I will crumple with despair and never leave my bed. I have to create because I have no other way of voicing this." Her hand rested on her heart, and my eyes burned. "It is hard," the weaver said, her stare never leaving mine, "and it hurts, but if I were to stop, if I were to let this loom or spindle go silent..." She broke my gaze at last to look at her tapestry. "Then there would be no Hope shining in the Void." (acofas)

...to be threads of Hope shining in the Void.

In acosf, priestesses continue to remain directly in the sisters’ path. They help Nesta in various ways, including scrying and locating the Harp during their dusk ritual. It belongs to the Dread Trove and it is the Trove that Nesta uses to save Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. Was the divine trio pulling the threads here as well, and if so, to what end? To help another world defeat an old enemy? Combat an ancient death-god and sorcerer? Bring peace and healing through a different sort of world?

Now that Nesta has tracked down three Trove objects, and we know the Cauldron can be used alongside them by those who are Made, it seems inevitable that we will see it again.

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.” (acosf)

In the original trilogy, we learn that the Cauldron gave Elain such powers and found her so lovely.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Her story might bring us even closer to the divine trio, witches, and priestesses with her gift of Sight. Among the Ironteeth, Bluebloods were especially known for their connection to divine Sight and even had their own priestesses:

“I see now,” Manon said softly, “why my Blueblood sisters still worship you.”

“Do they, now?” The spider remained motionless, but the three behind her crept closer, silent and observing with their many dark eyes. “We can hardly recall the last time the Blueblood priestesses brought their sacrifices to our foothills. We do miss them.” (Manon to the valg spider, hof)

Like a Blueblood, Elain is different from her sisters. She has a different sort of strength. Manon comments that the Blueblood Matron, who represents the maiden aspect of the Three-Faced Goddess, is more priestess than warrior. Her heir, Petrah, is similar to Elain: she is gentle and caring and is rumored to have her head in the clouds. Their clan is full of oracles, mystics, zealots, and they supposedly require more iron to remain tethered to their world.

Elain’s connection to the Cauldron—marked a mental, iron crown—mirrors her unique strengths and gifts.

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns.

[…]

If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar)

Rather than a brutal ancient fortress (the Prison?), Elain’s iron crown is covered in vines and sleeping buds. It is peaceful and lovely and full of budding life. With her oracular and mystic sight, Elain might be able to move and influence like the divine trio, a rose among the thorns constantly shifting form. She could use these gifts, or the Cauldron itself (the flower of life), to weave threads of Hope through protection, healing, and creation. Both Feyre and Nesta have used raw magic to heal and create, weaving their own threads of Hope. Elain may also participate or learn a ritual in the light-bringing dawn service to help her channel her powers. It’s no coincidence that we’re told about a dawn ritual called groundings before her story. Not when she is described like this:

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

And there she was, a vision of hope and healing, glowing like a new dawn during the longest night of the year.

If you’re interested in related posts about Elain, the divine trio, witches, and Archerons, here are some of my favorites:

Murky Realm of Dreams (Elain's connections to oracles and mystics)

Seer. Wise Woman. Witch. (Elain’s connections to witches, shifting, sight, herbs and healing, rituals, etc.)

Sister-Glass Caverns (Prythian’s underground caves behave like sister-glass)

A Rose in the Thorns (Elain moves like the Cauldron)

Elain and the Flower of Life (The Cauldron is the flower of life and Elain is a gardener on a larger scale)

[mcousland]

a new wifey approaches 🗡️

[therandomfandomgal-insta]

Theory: The Weaver is the Three-Faced Goddess.

1. The Weaver has a “young supple body”, “voice sweet and beautiful”, and “skin [that] was gray— wrinkled and sagging and dry”. The Three-Faced Goddess is mother, maiden & crone... so is the Weaver.

2. “Manon felt that ebb and flow in the world, that invisible current that some called fate and some called the loom of the Three-Faced Goddess.” The Weaver has a loom. And she weaves people. So the loom has life in it I guess? And Feyre also mentions a “tapestry of Fate” so that’s a common theme in two different worlds.

3. “[The Weaver] had a collection of mirrors in her black castle”. One of those mirrors is the Ouroboros, which is a witch mirror. Witch mirrors can show the past, present, and future, and other things too. What the Ouroboros showed Feyre is totally a witch mirror type thing. Also, a “black castle”. Most of the time when things are black they’re either Valg or wyrdstone; the Keys, the rings, the collars, the clock tower, the gargoyles, Valg infested eyes, Valg magic, Morath... the list goes on.

4. The Valg came to Erilea through a Wyrdgate. And so did the Gods. And the Weaver came to Prythian through a gate too. Maybe that was her home world and Aelin sent her back through the gate?

5. When the Weaver came to Prythian, the ancient fae there worshipped her, if they would worship her and make her a God, then it’s not too crazy to say that the witches acted similarly in worshipping her.

6. When the Bone Carver talks about him and his siblings, he draws “three overlapping, interlocked circles” which is what the Eye of Elena, a witch symbol of the Three-Faced Goddess, is.

7. The Blueblood witches are the ones most devoted to the Three-Faced Goddess, and bear the closest resemblance to the High Priestesses, with blue robes and a crown of stars on their brows, another similar theme between worlds, relating to the Three-Faced Goddess.

-please tag & credit @therandomfandomgal if reposting to Instagram

[shallyne]

ACOTAR Aesthetics List

Feyre Archeron:

High Lady of the Night Court

Little Wolf

Huntress Feyre

Warrior Feyre

High Lady Feyre

Feyre in Adriata

Domestic Feyre

Artist Feyre

Lady of Spring

Under the Mountain

Young Feyre

Feyre Archeron

Feyre Archeron

Feyre Archeron

The youngest Archeron Witch

Witchy Feyre

Goddess of night

Feyre Archeron

Winter Solstice

Feysand:

Feysand

Feysand

Mama Feyre

Daddy Rhys

Feysand Family

Feysand

Feysand

Feysand

Domestic Feysand

Feysand

NYE at Feysands

Feysand Merfolk

Inner Circle:

Inner Circle

Inner Circle Ladies

Bat Boys

The Morrigan

Morrigan

Amren

Rhysand

Cassian

Azriel

Feyre and Mor

Cassian & Feyre

Platonic Soulmates

Archeron Sisters:

Nesta Archeron

The oldest Archeron Witch

Elain Archeron

Flower Girl

The middle oldest Archeron Witch

Elriel

Elriel

Elriel

Monsters of Prythian:

The Suriel

Bryaxis

The Weaver

Courts:

Spring Court

Summer Court

Autumn Court

Winter Court | Viviane x Kallias

Dawn Court

Day Court

Night Court | Starfall

What If:

What If...Feyre and Mor

What If...Feyre and Manon

What If...Feyre and Cassian

What If...Mor and Lysandra

Villains:

The Villains of A Court of Thorns and Roses

Original Characters:

Nyx Archeron, Nemesis Archeron & Bragi Archeron

[msommers]

literally why didn’t anyone stop me with any of these

adahlena who marries and becomes a duchess.

cordelia who was born into a noble family, don’t remember exact titles.

delilah who married the father/king figure in a group of deities so that’s kinda royalty if you squint.

elena who is part of the new noble granger family.

elide who was not only from the noble house westenra, but was given two (2) titles in the city of rhogain and became a countess. also an andar descendent.

emma who is the daughter of a duchess and duke.

greer who is part of the noble trevelyan family.

isseya from the noble ar’thallan family (daughter of adahlena up there).

juliet who was from a rich ass upper-class family before she left that life, as close to one could get to nobility in the western setting.

maeve who married into the sommers family and became a lady. 

manon who is part of the noble weaver family.

margaery part of the royal pendragon family AND andar descendent. 

meredith who was the lady of highever and then eventual queen of ferelden.

raina who married the king of gradmyre and became queen.

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Upcoming Manorian Fic Preview

I’m hoping to have this up tonight, but just in case it’s delayed, here’s a chaste little preview from one of the 2 pages that is not NSFW.

I couldn’t resist :)

Lead in- Manon and Dorian are scouting outside a creepy looking cottage hidden deep in the woods, inside is said to live a vicious and powerful witch...

[books-rain-sex-blog]

OMG...is the spider in Heir of Fire the weaver in ACOTAR? She wanted Manon’s beauty, and the weaver was obsessed with her beauty? And the spider is part valg. 

[theatredirectors]

268 Directors and the end of the blog

This post marks the end of the Ask a Director experiment. I’m so grateful to all who have contributed, supported and engaged with it over the past six and a half years. 

This blog was started at a time when I felt incredibly alone in the directing field. I had always been taught that a director operates solo, that it was a lonely career and above all, it was based on scarcity. This was a style of working and living that didn't fit for me. I wanted to talk to other directors about their practice and thoughts about the field, both national and international. This blog was started as a way to connect, to uplift other directors and to create a conversation about the changing field and practices. 

It's surpassed all of these goals and brought me more joy than I can name. 

I'm now at a moment where my practice and advocacy are taking different and exciting paths and it's time for me to put this site to bed. I remain committed to uplifting other directors, to talking about the practice, to flattening hierarchies, to opening doors for new ways of working, and leading rehearsal rooms, companies, and classrooms away from silos and vacuums. Featuring these 268 different directors was just the beginning. 

I encourage you all to hire them (and others), advocate for them (and others) and choose to work in a system that values connection and generosity. 

Abhishek Majumdar

Adam Fitzgerald

Alice Stanley

Aliza Shane

Amanda McRaven

Amy Corcoran

Amy Jephta

Anisa George

Ana Margineau

Andrew Scoville

Anna Stromberg

Anne Cecelia Haney

Ariel Francoeur

Arpita Mukherjee

Ashley Hollingshead

Ashley Marinaccio

Andrew Neisler

Beng Oh

Ben Randle

Ben Stockman

Benjamin Kamine

Beth Lopes

Bo Powell

Bogdan Georgescu

Bonnie Gabel

Brandon Ivie

Brandon Woolf

Brian Hashimoto

Cait Robinson

Caitlin Ryan O’Connell

Caitlin Sullivan

Catie Davis

Cara Phipps

Carol Ann Tan

Carsen Joenk

Chari Arespacochaga

Cheryl Faraone

Chloe Treat

Christin Eve Cato

Christine Zagrobelny

Christopher Diercksen

Colette Robert

Colleen Hughes

Cyndy Marion

Dado Gyure

Dan Rothenberg

Daniel Irizarry

Danielle Ozymandias

Danny Sharon

Dara Malina

David Charles

Dennis Yueh-Yeh Li

Derek Spencer 

Donald Brenner

Doug Oliphant

Eamon Boylan

Elena Araoz

Emily Lyons

Emma Miller

Eric Kildow

Eric Wallach

Eric Powell Holm

Estefania Fadul

Evelina Stampa

Evren Odcikin

Evi Stamatiou

Francesca Montanile Lyons

Gabriel Vega Weissman

Gian Marco Riccardo Lo Forte 

Graham Schmidt

Gregg Wiggans

Hannah Ryan

Hannah Wolf

Heather Bagnall

Horia Suru

Ilana Becker

Ilana Ransom Toeplitz

Illana Stein

Ioanna Katsarou

Ioli Andreadi

Irina Abraham Chigiryov

Iris Sowlat

Isaac Klein

J Paul Nicholas

Jack Tamburri

Jaclyn Biskup

Jacob Basri

Jake Beckhard

Jaki Bradley

Jamie Watkins

Javier Molina

Jay Stern

Jay Stull

Jenna Rossman

Jenna Worsham

Jennifer Chambers

Jenny Bennett

Jenny Reed

Jeremy Bloom

Jeremy Pickard

Jerrell Henderson

Jess Hutchinson

Jess Shoemaker

Jesse Jou

Jessi D Hill

Jessica Burr

Jessica Holt

Jillian Carucci

Joanne Zipay

Jo Cattell

John Michael Diresta

John Kurzynowski

Joe Hedel

Jonathan Munoz-Proulx

Jose Zayas

Josh Kelley

Josh Sobel

Joshua Kahan Brody

Joshua William Gelb

Julia Sears

Justin Schlabach

Kareem Fahmy

Karen Christina Jones

Kate Bergstrom

Kate Hopkins

Kate Jopson

Kate Moore Heaney

Katherine M. Carter

Katherine Wilkinson

Kathy Gail MacGowan

Katie Chidester

Kendall Cornell 

Kendra Augustin

Kholoud Sawaf

Kimberly Faith Hickmann

Kim Weild

KJ Sanchez

Knud Adams

Kristin Marting

Kristin McCarthy Parker

Kristin Skye Hoffman

Kristy Chambrelli

Kristy Dodson

KT Shorb

Kyle Metzger

Kylie M. Brown

Larissa Fasthorse

Larissa Lury

Laura Brandel

Laura Steinroeder

Lauren Hlubny

Lauren Keating

Lavina Jadhwani

Jenn Haltman

Leta Tremblay

Lila Rachel Becker

Lillian Meredith

Lily Riopelle

Lindsey Hope Pearlman

Lisa Rothe

Lisa Sanaye Dring

Liz Thaler

Lori Wolter Hudson

Lucie Tiberghien

Luke Comer

Luke Tudball

Lyndsay Burch

Lynn Lammers

Mallory Catlett

Manon Manavit

Margarett Perry

Maridee Slater

Marina Bergenstock

Marti Lyons

Martin Jago

Matt Cosper

Matt Ritchey

Max Hunter

Megan Sandberg-Zakian

Megan Weaver

Meghan Finn

Melissa Crespo

Melody Erfani

Michael Alvarez

Michael T. Williams

Michaela Escarcega

Michelle Tattenbaum

Mimi Barcomi

Miranda Haymon

Molly Beach Murphy

Molly Clifford

Molly Noble

Morgan Gould

Morgan Green

Murielle Borst-Tarrant

Nana Dakin

Natalie Novacek

Neal Kowalsky

Nell Bang-Jensen

Nick Benacerraf

Noa Egozi

Norah Elges

Normandy Sherwood

Olivia Lilley

Orly Noa Rabinyan

Oscar Mendoza

Pablo Paz

Padraic Lillis 

Patrick Walsh

Pete Danelski

Pirronne Yousefzadeh

Portia Krieger

Rachel Karp

Rachel Wohlander

Randolph Curtis Rand

Raz Golden

Rebecca Cunningham

Rebecca Martinez

Rebecca Wear

Renee Phillippi

Renee Yeong

Rich Brown

Rick St. Peter

Robert Schneider

Ryan Anthony Nicotra

Sammi Cannold

Sammy Zeisel

Sanaz Ghajar

Sara Holdren

Sara Lyons

Sara Rademacher

Sarah Elizabeth Wansley

Sarah Hughes

Sarah M. Chichester

Sarah Rose Leonard

Sash Bischoff

Scarlett Kim

Seonjae Kim

Seth Pyatt

Sharifa Elkady

Shaun Patrick Tubbs

Sherri Eden Barber

Simon Hanukai

Sophia Watt

Suchan Vodoor

Stephen Cedars

Steven Kopp

Steven Wilson

Talya Klein

Tana Siros

Tara Ahmadinejad

Tara Cioletti

Tara Elliott

Tatiana Pandiani

Taylor Reynolds

TerryandtheCuz

Tommy Schoffler

Tracy Bersley

Trevor Biship

Tyler Mercer

Wednesday Sue Derrico

Will Dagger

Will Davis

Will Detlefsen

Will Steinberger

Yojiro Ichikawa

Yoni Oppenheim

Zi Alikhan

Zoya Kachardurian

[rufousnmacska]

Goodbye and Hello - 5

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

Previous chapters:

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

Squeezed up against the wall, Dorian tried to get out of the way as the rukhin poured from the dining hall. Breakfast was the one meal he and Manon did not join them for, and it was the one meal for which they filled the hall, eating as a single, enormous group.

Some of the larger wyverns were going to attempt the crossing today and the air was thick with excitement. The chosen riders came out last, beaming with pride as they strode by him. Each one gave him a solemn nod in greeting.

After the hall emptied, Dorian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying not to think about how little time they had left here. He would be leaving the day after tomorrow. Manon as well, depending on how things went today.

After her first inspection of the young wyverns and meetings with the squad leaders selected by Orghana, Manon planned the week out in detail: training runs through the mountains, flight formations, lessons in hand-to-hand aerial combat. Until today, those flights had been easy, incremental steps to strengthen not just the mounts, but their new riders. No one expected that a handful of wyverns would be advanced enough to go up against the deadly currents of the Ferian Gap.

Privately, Manon had confessed her doubts to him. She’d known the rukhin were disciplined and excellent flyers. What she didn’t know was just how quickly wyverns could develop. Abraxos came to her as a full grown adult. In some regards, she was as inexperienced with this as the rukhin.

Though she shared the aerie’s excitement, he felt the tang of nerves emanating from her while they ate this morning. The crossing was dangerous, even with the precautions they were putting in place. Sentinels on ruks and the smaller wyverns would be positioned at intervals along the descent and near the valley floor, ready to assist if anyone needed help. Prudent planning, but no guarantee it would prevent tragedy.

He was just about to go back and check on Manon when she came around the corner.

“You take forever getting ready,” he teased as she stopped to fasten a few straps on her flight leathers.

She smirked. “If I’d taken a bath with you in the room, we’d both still be there.”

He took her fur-lined cloak, draping it over his arm while she adjusted her sword. “That’s probably true,” he admitted with a grin. “You know me so well.”

“I assume you will be joining us then?”

During the days, while she worked with Orghana and the riders, Dorian spent his time meeting with various small groups. Not everyone who moved here from the Tavan Mountains wanted to be part of the aerial legion. Along with the riders came their spouses and families, including, to everyone’s enjoyment, a clan storyteller who’d accompanied her daughter.

There were caretakers to look after the ruks and wyverns, as well as the people. Yisu, an engineer who'd relocated with her young family, was working to improve the water system inside the Omega while her wife Naran tended some of the livestock. Several teachers had made the trip, ensuring the children would continue their studies.

Then there was Qara, the head cook. After proclaiming “The witch needs more meat on her bones,” the tiny, old woman helped Dorian prepare breakfast each morning. The hot, spiced chocolate drink she made for them was currently Manon’s most favorite thing in the world. When she had told Qara that - not necessarily in those words - the woman grinned from ear to ear, shoved a few pastries into their hands, and turned back to her giant stove.

Dorian met one family of weavers who ventured north in search of new sources of wool for their rugs, as well as new buyers. “No middleman this way,” they’d reasoned. With other craftspeople making their homes here - a blacksmith, tanner, potter - the place was practically self-sufficient.

But he never got the impression that they wanted to be closed off in any way. When he’d brought up the possibility of opening the ranks up to Adarlanians, the rukhin were welcoming.

Despite his daily activities, he was surprised by Manon’s question. Everyone would be out for at least part of the event. It was odd that she didn’t expect it of him.

“I am. In fact, I thought I’d help out. You can use another full grown wyvern in the air, in case anything goes wrong.”

Manon looked up at him. Fear lined her eyes and she opened her mouth to say something, but a deep voice echoed down the hallway.

“Wing leader. May I have a moment?”

Dorian turned to see one of the older riders jogging towards them. Erden wasn’t old exactly. No gray salted his hair, but he had a ruggedly handsome face that only came with age. When he reached them, he stared with open admiration at Manon, completely oblivious to Dorian’s presence.

“Is there something you need?” Dorian asked, not masking his annoyance at the interruption.

Erden looked over, his dark eyebrows raised in what could only be surprise. The man truly hadn’t seen him. Dorian almost laughed.

Addressing Manon, Erden said, “Yes, well, I have some questions about the crossing.”

With a clear expression of dismissal, Manon said, “I’ll be right there.”

Erden didn’t need to be told twice. He gave her a sharp bow, ignored Dorian, and returned the way he had come.

Dorian watched him go, not noticing when Manon took her cloak back and swung it over her shoulders.

“Jealous, princeling?”

Turning back, he found her smirking again, all the tension of a moment ago gone. “How can I not be? Half of them are in love with you. And the other half are in love with you.”

The riders all seemed to worship her, looking at Manon as if she was a warrior goddess sent from above. Which, she was, he happily admitted. Beautiful, clever, lethal, immortal. He really couldn’t blame them.

Manon shook her head and started down the hall. When he caught up to her, she said, “You should stay above, on the platform. Orghana will be below with me, so we’ll have plenty of help along the descent.”

Dorian wanted to protest, but he didn’t, telling himself this was her area of expertise. Even though it was a bullshit excuse. And she wouldn’t look at him. Neither said anything more as they made their way outside.

On the platform, Manon stopped to speak to the riders who’d be undertaking the crossing, giving last minute warnings and answering questions. While everyone else would fly across the valley, they would go on foot, taking the narrow bridge that linked the Omega and the Northern Fang. Someone had suggested it to make things more ceremonial, as if the crossing needed more drama.

When everyone dispersed, Manon hopped onto Abraxos and twisted around, an expectant look on her face. For some reason he couldn’t explain, part of him thought she’d just leave him here. But instead, she waited to fly him over to the Northern Fang.

Settling in behind her, Dorian pulled her to his chest. Where his hands rested against her waist, she laced her fingers into them with a vise-like grip. The fear was back. But, he couldn’t see it this time. He felt it. As if his magic was constantly reaching towards her, reading her emotions.

Her reticence to let him take part had nothing to do with his lack of knowledge or flying experience. It had everything to do with the fact that people could die today. It wouldn’t matter that the riders were pulled from a group of volunteers. If things went badly today, she would hold herself responsible. Just as she did with her coven.

“I’ll stay above. Safe and out of the way,” he said.

Her body relaxed at his words. “Thank you.”

And with that, Abraxos leapt into the air.

***

Cheers echoed between the peaks of the gap as the final wyvern swooped up sharply and flew high into the sky. Every crossing had been a success. As the sentinels took off to join their fellow riders for the celebration awaiting them, Manon stayed behind, guiding Abraxos to land on a rocky slope nearby. Her celebration was letting herself breathe normally for the first time all day.

With her eyes closed, she sat and listened to the wind coursing through the pass, concentrating on the rise and fall of Abraxos’s chest.  

As nervous as she had been today, he’d been distant, lifeless. Her wyvern had his own memories of this place to overcome, something she’d considered before leaving the Wastes. Their arrival had been so happy and he’d been so well taken care of, she thought he was fine.

But today was different. Abraxos had conquered the crossing to the sound of her Thirteen and others cheering him on, to the beating wings of his fellow chained wyverns. None of them were here anymore. Narene wasn’t here.

Before her mind could replay memories she didn’t want to see, and before anyone came looking for her, she tugged on the reins. Two flaps of his spider silk wings had them rising into the chilly air.

As he flew up to the Omega, Manon leaned forward and ran her hand over his neck. The wounds he’d received in Orynth had healed to silvery stripes, brighter than the old scars that criss-crossed his body. Now, they shined red in the sunset, rippling with the movement of his muscles, a sickening reminder of how close she’d come to losing him.

Abraxos landed on the edge of the platform, jolting her back to the present. The raucous laughter and smiling faces pierced through her dark mood like a beacon. As she dismounted, she was pulled into the mass of people, and to her surprise, she didn’t flinch away from the contact.

Manon thought back to when she and Abraxos had survived that first flight across the gap. Despite the cheers that sent them over the ledge, despite her undiluted joy at his victory, their post-crossing celebration had been... nothing. Brief applause, most of it mocking, then another dinner of bland mush in the dining hall. Another emotionless performance in the hopes of not attracting her grandmother’s attention.

This, though. The excitement and camaraderie of these humans was infectious. It became clear to her in that moment just how lacking the lives of the Ironteeth were. How lacking her life had been.

Witches were not and never would be human. But as she watched the rukhin laugh and tease each other, embrace and kiss, she thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if witches adopted a few human traits.

A sudden wish to have her Thirteen by her side and watch their reactions to this happy chaos hit her like a crushing weight. She staggered backwards, away from the crowd as they began to move into the entrance hall.

A warm presence steadied her with a hand on her back. “Are you okay?” Dorian dipped his head to look into her eyes.

Manon didn’t know what he saw there, but she could see the worry in his. With a quick shake of her head, she said, “It’s been a stressful day.” Not a lie but not the whole truth. He knew it, she could tell, but he didn’t prod for more.

Dorian waited for her to say something and she looked backwards to Abraxos. Her wyvern was waiting too, staring off into the distance.

Another memory came to her, unbidden, but more welcome than most.

Abraxos’s first day outside. Unchained, free to walk wherever he chose, free to roll around in a field of wildflowers. He’d never seen the sky before that day. Never felt the wind against his wings. And while she’d railed against his decidedly unbeastly behavior, cursing and looking around to make sure no one witnessed it, inside, her heart had been breaking for the pain he’d endured. For the pleasure he found in peacefully smelling flowers that he’d never known existed.

Facing Dorian again, she said, “I need to see to Abraxos.”

As she turned away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “You didn’t answer me. Are you okay?” He spoke low so no one else overheard, but there was a hard edge to his voice, a quickening of his pulse. “I care about you, Manon. I...” He trailed off and shook his head. “I’m worried about you.”

“Today has been difficult for him,” she said, still not answering his question. “I want to be the one to stable him tonight. I’ll be back soon.”

Dorian examined the wyvern, his eyes softening in recognition of whatever emotion he saw in Abraxos’s face. She waited for another round of questions, but none came. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a long moment before he released her hand and walked away.

Once he disappeared into the crowd, she returned to Abraxos and led him into a smaller cave entrance set apart from the main hall. The other wyverns were kept in the Northern Fang, their cages large, clean, and warm. The ruks, used to being exposed to all sorts of weather, preferred their nests perched high on the cliffs above the Omega’s platform.

This little cavern, while not made exclusively for Abraxos, was refitted to accommodate him. It seemed his reputation as an alpha warrior had preceded him here, so he was treated accordingly.

Torches lit the entry and lined the curving passage that led back to his quarters. Abraxos lumbered past a freshly butchered goat and curled up on the hay bedding piled high against the back wall of the cave.

Manon knew exactly how he felt, but she refused to leave without trying to get him to eat. Not bothering with her knife, she sliced through the goat with her nails, separating a leg.

“You can sleep as soon as you eat something,” she said, putting the meat right in front of his face. Big, black eyes shone in the torch light, staring back at her without emotion. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she coaxed. Still no reply, no desire to eat. Sighing, she sat down and leaned against him.

Although she had her own rooms in the keep back home, she often spent part of her nights with him. His aerie was in a nearby tower that was half falling over. It was stable, but just barely. He’d refused to be put with the other wyverns, and the tower overlooked her windows. So even on the nights she didn’t visit him, they could still see each other.

Muffled footsteps sounded from the passage and Manon was surprised to see Orghana walk into the chamber.

“Everyone is asking for you at the aerie.”

The aerie. When she’d lived here, they just referred to it as the entrance hall. It still was the entrance hall in her mind, even after a week. She made a mental note to change that.

“Did the king send you?”

Orghana stroked Abraxos’s snout, eliciting a deep sigh, then sat down next to her. “No. But he did tell me where to find you.”

They sat for a while in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft popping of the flames and Abraxos’s steady breathing. His eyes were closed, but Manon knew by the pattern of his breaths that he was only dozing.

“Why did you come here?” Manon asked. It was something she’d been wondering but never had the nerve to ask. With her impending departure, she let her curiosity got the better of her.

“The riders wanted me to bring you back.” With a hint of exasperation, she added, “I think Erden has it in his head to ask you to dance.”

Manon choked back a laugh.

Orghana sighed. “He is a very good flyer, but sometimes his eyesight is... lacking."

“I think it’s worse than lacking. He might be blind,” Manon said. They both burst out laughing.

Abraxos jerked awake and twisted his head around to glare at them.

“Sorry,” Orghana said. Seeing the uneaten meat, the captain pulled out her knife and sliced a piece from the bone. When she offered it to Abraxos, he took it without hesitation.

It was Manon’s turn to glare at him. “Spoiled worm,” she muttered, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto her face. Orghana fed him the meat, chunk by chunk, until it was gone. When he settled back down, Manon said, “Actually, I meant why did you come to Adarlan?”

The woman stiffened and Manon thought she might not answer. But Orghana said, “I came because Prince Sartaq asked me to.” After a long pause, she added, “And because my husband died two years ago and I wanted to start over somewhere new.

“He was a healer. Not like those at the Torre. He had no magic, just the usual gifts. Compassion. Intelligence. Because of his skill, he was often called to other aeries when they were in need. So when sickness spread through the Berlad aerie, he went immediately that morning.” Orghana smiled faintly. “He told me he’d be home by dinner, but we both knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It was a rare illness and the sick were already being isolated.”

Damn her nosiness. Manon wished she could go back in time and not ask the question. Glancing sideways at Orghana, she thought about offering her condolences and then changing the subject. It would be rude as hell, and she’d hate herself for it, but she didn’t think she had it in her to listen to more. Clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking, Manon willed Orghana not to continue.

But continue she did. “I received messages from him each day, full of reassurances. He was always so positive. It made him a good healer. The problem was that to a cynic like me, it could sometimes be annoying.” A small laugh escaped the woman’s lips. “He always said... “ She cleared her throat. With a deeper voice to imitate her husband, she went on speaking in Halha. For Manon, she translated: “You are the cloud to my sun. We are lucky the world needs both in order to have balance.”

As quickly as it had come, the levity in Orghana’s face faded. “When two days went by without a message, I knew.”  

Silence returned and Manon didn’t know what to say.

“There were stories that came back to our mountains from the war. I heard of the sacrifice made by your hearth-sisters,” Orghana said quietly, then shook her head in frustration. “No, that’s not the right word. Your coven?”

The world dropped out from under her and Manon felt like she was floating and falling at the same time. Squeezing her eyes shut tight in the hopes of steadying herself, all she saw was white. That white light of their yielding.

Whenever the scene played in her mind, there was always a kernel of awe in her heart. There had never been a witch who yielded anything other than darkness. For that was the source of the power, the Darkness. 

Somehow though, the Darkness, or perhaps their Three-Faced Goddess, had gifted her coven with light. Not only a power used to kill, but to save. The light from their twelve souls had saved the city, their armies, the world.

What had Orghana called them? Hearth-sisters?

In some ways, that was a better word than coven. Witches often referred to each other as sister or cousin, regardless of any actual familial connection. But the words were meant to declare their clan allegiance, their common origins and otherness from humans and fae.

The bond she shared with the Thirteen was that of true sisters. A bond woven into their very souls. From now until the Darkness claims us.

Orghana reached over and grasped Manon’s hand. “My heart cries for your loss.”

With those words and that touch, Manon felt a release in her chest and heard herself begin to speak. “I’m always looking for them, waiting for them. As if they will return at any moment, coming back from scouting or training. Every day I wait. And they never come.” A tear slid down her cheek but she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “All of my life, I had them with me. Even when we were sent off on different missions, it was never long before we’d be together.” Looking at Orghana, Manon said, “I have no one left who shared my life. No one who shares my memories.”

The woman squeezed her hand but said nothing. Manon blinked, then brushed her face on her cloak. “I must sound mad,” she offered in apology.

With a sad smile, Orghana said, “You are not mad. It took months for me to stop looking for Oktai to walk through our door. You lost an entire family, Manon. I cannot imagine your pain.”

“Does it ever change?”

Everyone kept telling her it would get better, that time would heal her broken heart. She’d seen it happen to some of the witches who lost loved ones in the war. They mourned, but eventually, moved on.

Objectively, she understood it was possible. Even she’d had moments when the grief no longer felt all consuming. More often than not, she felt stuck, mired in this heavy sorrow that she could only break free of for short bursts of time.

This week, with Dorian and Orghana and all the rukhin, with the wyverns and the routine… It had felt like she could see more clearly, breathe more deeply, move more freely. But today had flooded her with reminders of the things she’d been able to temporarily forget, and she was being dragged back under.

“It has changed for me,” Orghana said. “Things that started as distractions became more real, more meaningful. They became things that I looked forward to. New people entered my life. Not to replace, but to… expand.” She waved a hand. “I’m not sure of the words. I should teach you Halha. We have better words.”

Manon sniffed, the edge of her mouth turning up into a hint of a smile. “Your words are fine. But you’re right. I should learn your language.”

In full captain mode, Orghana nodded in approval, looking like she was already planning the lessons in her head. After a pause, she asked, “Do witches have an afterlife?”

"Yes.”

“And do you believe you will see them there one day?”

“Yes.”

“Even after two years, I still have hard days. They are fewer now. But on those hard days, I remind myself that Oktai is waiting for me.” Orghana smiled and let go of Manon’s hand with a soft, reassuring pat. “He loved listening to peoples’ stories. So I made a vow to bring as many with me as I could. I suppose that is the real reason I came here. Not to run from the past. But to make a future that I can one day share with him.”

Manon heard Asterin’s last words to her. Live, Manon.

She hadn’t done it, not really. She’d survived. So many days were devoted to just that one thing - survival. And most of the time she’d only barely managed it. Shame welled up inside as she admitted to herself just how badly she’d failed at that final request. Failed not just Asterin and the rest of the Thirteen, but her people. And herself.

“One of my sisters” - Manon tried the word with its new meaning - “liked collecting stories. Her room was always filled with books.” She smiled, thinking of how testy Ghislaine got when anyone interrupted her reading.

Orghana spoke a word in Halha, then said, “Your first lesson. That means story keeper. They preserve our histories and tales and are respected across all the clans.” With a nod in the direction of the aerie, she added, “I’m sure Jullian will be performing tonight. Do witches have such a thing?”

Manon was embarrassed to say no. Ghislaine was truly unique among the Ironteeth. Crochans, however, did have elders who were renowned for their storytelling, though they weren’t given official titles.

As with Orghana’s empathetic touch, her question triggered something in Manon. She began telling this women she’d only known for a few days some of her stories. Terrible stories of battle, mundane stories of everyday life as a witch, even a couple that were humorous. Her early, messy attempts to hunt goats for Abraxos received quite the laugh.

Most weren’t her stories so much as they were the Thirteen’s.

Vesta’s ability to make anyone feel at ease. Sorrel’s quiet, steady wisdom that was always offered at just the right time. The demon twins’ trouble-making that first earned them their nickname. Lin and Imogen’s protectiveness of everyone in the coven. Ghislaine’s lectures on everything from history to wyvern care.

She spoke about how she’d never learned the secret of the shadows’ ability to sneak up on her undetected. And how she’d always watched Thea and Kaya, curious to know what made them look at each other the way they did.

In speaking it, she thought of Dorian, and realized that was no longer something she wondered about.

Manon saved Asterin for last. She didn’t tell Orghana all of her second’s story, just enough to convey what Asterin meant to her. How much she loved and missed her. And how Asterin had changed her life. For the better.

When Manon was done talking, Orghana said, “Thank you for telling me about them. For the rukhin, sharing stories like that is a way to honor your loved ones. It keeps them alive and with you.”

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Manon said. “I’d like to hear more about him sometime.”

Stretching her arms high over her head, Orghana groaned as her back cracked. “I would like that too. But I am hungry. And the others will be looking for us.” She stood and offered a hand. Manon took it and was pulled up.

Abraxos slept soundly, but Manon still went over to say goodnight to him, rubbing the spot between his eyes. There would be plenty of difficult days waiting for them. Borrowing Orghana’s outlook, if she stayed on her current path, she would end up face to face with a pissed off Asterin in the afterlife. Manon truly didn’t want to let that happen.

Leaning down to Abraxos, she whispered a promise to him, to her sisters, and to herself. “From now until the Darkness claims us, we are going to live.”

They started out of the cave. With perfect innocence, Orghana said, ���Perhaps it would be nice to also tell your stories to the king. Then you will have more people who share your memories.”

Manon stopped and shook her head. “You’re not as subtle as you think, Captain.”

The woman shrugged. “I’m not familiar with that word. Sut-tell?” Continuing on her way, she called back, “Let’s go, Your Majesty. I’ll distract Erden so you can find your king.”

***

Altai slapped Dorian on the back as the small group surrounding him laughed. Although he’d had lessons in Halha and spoke it rather well, he wasn’t fluent. And he certainly wasn’t fluent in the more colloquial aspects of the language.

He’d learned that the hard way, when Altai had taught him an expression he unwittingly repeated to Qara. To his relief, she immediately turned to Altai, her grandson, and cuffed him on the side of the head instead of Dorian. The young man was now regaling his friends with the tale.

He was smiling and laughing with the rest, but Dorian wasn’t really paying attention. Manon still hadn’t returned.

Where this anxiety was coming from, he didn’t know. He just wanted to see her, to know she was alright. When Orghana had asked after her and then left, something in the woman’s eyes had calmed him enough to keep him from following.

As it became clear that Altai wasn’t going to give them the real ending, Dorian took the opportunity to go into great detail about the phrases Qara unleashed upon her grandson for fooling the king. With the group now focused on teasing Altai, Dorian stepped back and found a quiet spot away from the crowd.

From his seat along the cavern wall, he watched the flames of the bonfire rise high above the edge of the pit.

Until this morning, he thought he’d been making progress in helping Manon. It took some time, but he’d gotten her to talk about her life in the Wastes - Glennis and the other witches, their struggles this past winter, their plans for the coming year.

One topic never came up.

More like twelve, he thought with a sharp punch of his own grief. The twelve witches he’d considered friends were part of his daily thoughts, and not always in relation to Manon.

They hadn’t been mentioned this week and he never asked, choosing to wait and let her decide when she was ready to talk.

Her expression from that first morning sprang into his mind. After finding her afraid and shaken, Dorian had made sure to wake her each morning before he left to get their breakfast. It hadn’t happened again, and he’d convinced himself it was nothing more than a nightmare. Waking from a bad dream in a new place would cause anyone to react that way. Deep down, he knew there was more to it. But beyond mourning the Thirteen, he had no idea what it even was.

Music began to play and several women stepped down into the pit, drawing everyone’s attention as they started to sing. People gathered closer to the fire, some sitting on the floor and benches, others beginning to dance. Dorian stayed where he was, staring at the dark, cloudless sky outside the aerie. Waiting.

Looking back on this week, back to their goodbye in Orynth, and even further back to that last night together in their tent, he began to see something taking shape. Each puzzle piece was a mistake made. Some were obvious, things he should have noticed at the time. Others were harder to make out, only visible with hindsight, after the puzzle was half done.

Dropping his head into his hands, Dorian scrubbed his fingers through his hair. When he sat back up, Manon was standing in front of him.

“Hello princeling.”

He jumped up, standing so close he had to bend a little to see into her eyes. “Hello witchling.”

The red lining her eyes told him she’d been crying. Seconds ago, he convinced himself that they could no longer ignore whatever walls were standing between them. Her tear-streaked cheeks were the push he needed to say something.

But she was smiling at him. And it was so easy to ignore the walls and the puzzles. What with the music sounding through the aerie, and the light of the fire dancing across her hair, and her smile…

Manon reached up and ran her fingers lightly through his hair, rearranging what he’d just messed up. “I believe our official duties here are done. So, I propose that we spend tomorrow together. Just us. And Abraxos. There’s a meadow on the other side of the gap that I think he’d enjoy seeing again.”  

Before he could reply, and, as if she’d just been reading his mind, Manon added, “I think I’m ready to talk. About them. If you’re willing to listen,”

“Of course,” he said, trying to hide his relief. “Anything you want.”

“In that case…” She bit her lip and glanced behind them. In a shy voice he’d never heard from her, she asked, “Would you dance with me?”

It was the absolute last thing he expected her to say, and he had no way to stop the grin that spread across his face. A grin she mirrored, if to a lesser degree.

“I was just about to ask you that,” he said.

Turning back to the gathering once more, Manon confessed, “I don’t know how. I’ve never danced before.”

The tempo of the music had quickened and the women who’d been singing were now part of small circles of dancers. Everyone joined in, belting out lyrics here and there.

“I’m not familiar with this style of dancing actually,” Dorian said, leaning down to speak into her ear over the loud chorus and clapping. She arched an eyebrow in teasing disbelief. Once, he’d mentioned the dance lessons he suffered through as a boy, overly harsh punishments for very minor rule-breaking. “Sadly, my instructor never strayed from traditional Erilean dances.”

They were already apart from the crowd, but Dorian took her hand and gently led her back into the shadows. Positioning her arm around his waist, he pulled her in close against his chest and cradled her hand between them. They began to move, swaying back and forth.

“How about this, witchling? We’ll start off slow and work our way up to the more advanced steps over time.”

Her reply was the soft, faint smile he loved most. The one she never realized she was making.

As Manon melted against him, Dorian rested his chin on her shoulder and began to turn them in a slow circle. They were hopelessly out of sync with the music, but they ignored it, keeping time with their heartbeats instead.

  To be continued...

Tagging  @itach-i  @nestasbucket  @manontrashbeak  @blackhavilliard  @bookishwitchling @jimetg98

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged. My posts no longer show up in tag searches (thanks tumblr), so reblogs are very appreciated. 😊  

[horcrux7750]

Prints and other products of my art are now available on society6 for those of you who are interested! Currently for sale are Feyre and the Weaver, Manon vs the Matron, Kaltain Rompier, and my painting of Feyre. I will continue to post there as I create more. :)

[ferian-gap]

the ultimate Throne of Glass playlist

Spotify (x)

YouTube (x)

ACoTaR Playlist (x)

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius:

Lorde - Yellow Flicker Beat “I’m a princess cut from marble Smoother than a storm And the scars that mark my body They’re silver and gold My blood is a flood of rubies Precious stones keep my veins hot The fires find a home in me”

Within Temptation - Iron “You can’t live without the fire It’s the heat that makes you strong Cause you’re born to live And fight it all away You can’t hide what lies inside you It’s the only thing you know You’ll embrace it all And never walk away”  

Halsey - Castle “I’m headed straight for the castle They wanna make me their Queen And there’s an old man sitting on the throne That’s saying that I probably Shouldn’t be so mean”

Lauren Aquilina - Ugly Truth “This changes everything I could tear your world to shreds It don’t mean anything If I live to regret”

Mercedes Lackey - Battle Dawn “I saw the wreck you made of her My herald and my friend In the name of all the gods You’re all that I despise Who planned to take by treachery My kingdom as your prize”

Celaena Sardothien:

Lauren Aquilina - Ocean “So vast, so free These deep blue waters Drown me in jealousy I lost my head Somewhere between the surface And the seabed I’ll stay beneath Where my voice makes no noise Trapped in my body”

Sleeping At Last - Mercury “Rows of houses, sound asleep Only streetlights notice me I am desperate, if nothing else In a holding pattern to find myself And somehow, I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground At the cost of my soul”

Chaol x Celaena:

dodie - Even If It’s A Lie “I’m going darling, I’ll step lightly Live on as if you still love me Just say it one more time Even if it’s a lie, even if it’s a lie”

Ryn Weaver - Octahate “Oh, you let me down From the day I saw my heart Start breaking No one saved me”

Manon (and the Thirteen):

Beth Crowley - Battle Cry “And if it’s true that I was made I still don’t know if I can change But hear my battle cry I’m out for blood To claim what’s mine”

Ruelle - Invincible “So bring on the fire And bring on the storm We’ll still be here When it’s all said and done”

Dorian Havilliard:

Halsey - Hold Me Down “My demons are begging me To open up my mouth They fight me Vigorous and angry Watch them pounce”

Lysandra x Aedion:

Jamie McDell - Falling “I move like a gypsy And I sing like a bird Calling for freedom In an all caging world If we’re falling for love We’re not falling at all”

Rowan Whitethorn:

Sia - Bird Set Free “Now I fly, hit the high notes I have a voice, have a voice Hear me roar tonight You held me down But I fought back loud”

Celaena x Sam:

Karmina - All The King’s Horses “I knock the ice from my bones Try not to feel the cold Caught in the thought Of that time When everything was fine Everything was mine”

Fleurie - Hurts Like Hell “I loved And I loved And I lost you And it hurts like hell”

Zella Day - 1965 “Can we go back to the world we had With a love so sweet it makes me sad Can we go back to the world we had Cut like diamonds, we were made to last Can we go back to the world we had It’s the world we’ve been dreaming of”

Birdy - Not About Angels “How unfair, it’s just our luck Found something real that’s out of touch But if your heart was full of love Could you give it up? Don’t give me up”

Sleeping At Last - Saturn “You taught me The courage of stars Before you left How light Carries on endlessly Even after death”

Chaol x Yrene:

Inquillery - Tell Me Where It Hurts “Tell me me where it hurts Tell me where your soul’s on fire Where your skin, your heart burns Tell me where it hurts Tell me where you’re buried What scars you’ve hidden beneath the dirt Tell me where it hurts”

Sleeping At Last - Woodwork “All our love Came out of the woodwork All our strength Came out of the woodwork We only notice light When darkness crashes against it We only notice light Deep in the wookwork” *note: the whole song definitely doesn’t fit this ship, but the parts that do fit match it well enough for me to include it*

A Fine Frenzy - The Beacon “Burning beacon in the night Can’t feel it’s heat or see its light That single solitary guide It must get lonely there sometimes”

Rowan x Aelin:

Ruelle - Fear On Fire “Hold on for dear life Until it’s all gone We’ll come alive And set fear on fire”

Lauren Aquilina - Fools “What if we ruin it all And we love like fools And all we have We lose”

Inquillery - Burning Heart “I am not afraid of destruction It’s just the thought of losing you That keeps me awake”

Ruelle - Find You “I will find you here inside the dark I will break through no matter where you are I will find you I will find you”

Ruelle - The Other Side “We are buried in broken dreams We are knee deep without a plea I don’t wanna know The other side Of a world without you”

Zella Day - Sacrifice “If we’re closer to the other side And the heaven all start to cry I will find you in a burning sky Where the ashes rain in your mind”

Lana Del Rey - Young & Beautiful “Hot summer nights, mid July When you and I were forever wild Crazy days, city lights The way you’d play with me like a child”

Beth Crowley - All I Know “And I wish I knew How long we’ll have It’s like you blink And so much time has passed But at the end When my heart beats it’s last I will still want you”

[mcousland]

i already have a strong attachment to manon because most of my ocs leapt into action and/or were waiting for adventure, meanwhile she's here content in her life as a little noble where she gets to eat waffles whenever she likes and go to parties. then smashcut to her being cornered in an alleyway by some shady figures, talking about some dragon cult business and she's just all

[ataurusinabookshop]

ACOFAS Thoughts...

...So does this mean Amren is non-binary?

is the darkness from Rhysand’s speech the same from Manon’s? aka “To the blessed Darkness from which we are born, and to which we return” vs “From now until the Darkness claims us”

Elaine REALLY needs to get over greywhat’shisface. I understand she’s hurting, but I feel like she’s completely disregarding the fact he rejected her because she didn’t ‘really’ belong to him. I don’t know, this just proved to me that he only wanted her because she had money and a pretty face that he could claim. Her rose tinted glasses have lenses that are extremely thick

Azriel is the mom friend of the group

Azriel laughing and acting all embarrassed when Rhysand caught him drinking wine straight from the bottle is my antidepressant  

Cassian giving bear hugs and cheek kisses is my kryptonite 

Mor, the MOST FABULOUS high fae in Prythian, is a terrible gift giver

I would totally buy the Void tapestry

I totally didn’t cry at the tapestry weaver’s story

My heart goes out to the little fae with the red painting

WAIT! The Weaver is actually dead???? Like I get the Bone Carver dying because of the cauldron death ray but seriously??? Wasn't the Weaver suppose to be a death God?? You’re telling me a death God died by neck snapping???

I think what Rhys means by “Elaine is Elaine” is that she is kind of the ditsy younger sister who had little self awareness. And let’s face it with how fragile she was as a human she would have gotten kidnapped or worse if she went out to work. I mean this is the same chick who, when in poverty, asked if they could use their newly earned money...for a new cloak for herself. ALSO Elaine never intentionally meant to hurt anyone. Her harm toward Feyre was ignorance not maliciousness.

So the Archeron sisters (as humans) were DEFINITELY born out of order. Feyre is the responsible older sister, Nesta is the angry and misunderstood middle child and Elaine is the innocent youngest sister who believes one day her prince will come

Hmmmm giving people space and not pushing a person to talk when they don’t want to seems to be the go to trauma care for the inner circle

I love Feyre...like so much. She’s gonna leave her world a better place than how she found it

“If someone propositions you tell them we’ll both be free in an hour” This made me laugh and swoon and oh my cauldron Rhysand is totally into either threesomes or Feyre being open to her sexuality...or both

Feysand for the win

Chapter 22 10/10 will read again

DAMMIT CASSIAN WHAT WAS IN THE BOX?!?!?!?