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featherymalignancy · 5 years ago

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Like a Lonely House, Part VII

JFC, I finally did it. PLEASE ENJOY! Also, if you need a refresher because it’s been a GD age since I updated, please check out the PARTS I-VI RECAP. Also please enjoy!

Like a Lonely House: A Nessian Story Of Betrayal and Redemption

“so I wait for you like a lonely house

till you will see me again and live in me.

Till then my windows ache.”

-Pablo Neruda

Warning: NSFW for language, mild violence, mentions of sexual assault, and smut. This story is not ACOFAS complaint, but it will borrow elements from the story. oh, also tons of angst. Synopsis: Fifty years after the Hybernian War, Prythian is finally at peace. For Cassian and Nesta, animosity has turned to something more amorous, and they stand on a precipice of something that scares and excites them both. However, it only takes one night of weakness on Cassian’s part to change everything, and with a young Illyrian prince gaining power in the North, Nesta agrees to an marriage alliance, both to protect her family and get her as far away from Cassian as possible. As things unravel between them, Cassian begins to suspect there is something more deliberate seeking to keep them apart, and he struggles to uncover the truth and win Nesta back before it’s too late.

If you’re new to the story, please click HERE for the masterlist.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.

Part VII

The Macaran crowd roared its approval as Adan rose to his feet at the High Lords’ invitation, but Cassian couldn’t hear a single voice.

It was as if all the sound had been sucked from the world, leaving only a roaring silence in its wake.

Cassian had the sensation of falling, of drowning, of he didn’t even know what. All he did know was that he couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe—as he watched the prince turn to offer Nesta his hand. The smile she offered the spoiled little prick in return ran Cassian straight through, and he wondered if the female from the Corona was somewhere in the crowd smiling too, reveling in all she’d done to steal this moment for her Şehzade.

Blood slicked Cassian’s teeth as he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The muscles in his back screamed at the effort of keeping his wings pinned, his every instinct demanding he find the female—whoever she was—and simply shred her to ribbons, all the rest of this theatre be damned.

His body was so tense it had grown hard to breathe, but he called on the promise he’d made to Rhys to play his part and managed to settle, if only slightly. Gritting his teeth behind pursed lips, he willed the ire which bubbled under his skin to cool, trying to force it out of his scent. He needed to wait until he was alone, until he could speak to Rhys and Az...

He glanced at the latter to find his friend already watching him, hazel eyes glittering as the shadows slithered up to neck towards his ear as if they meant to tell him a secret. Cassian couldn’t speak to Azriel mind-to-mind the way he could with Rhys, but Az knew him well enough by now to read his body posture, even as Cassian fought to keep his face and scent neutral.

Casually as he could manage, he reached up to touch his collarbone with both hands before sweeping his fingers across his chest. To the uninitiated it would have seemed little more than a stretch, but Cassian knew Azriel would recognize the message coded in the gesture, one of many they’d invented to convey information when traditional communication was impossible.

We need to talk.

Azriel rolled his neck as if simply trying to relieve some stiffness in the muscles, but Cassian knew it was meant as confirmation. It wasn’t enough to settle him, but it was enough to bolster his control as the gates of the Hewn City boomed open and the High Lords, the Macarans, and their respective retinues were all welcomed inside by a seductive string symphony typical of the Night Court.

The temptation to look at Nesta weighed Cassian’s every step, make his feet feel as if they were made of lead. However, he resisted, knowing that seeing her so near the prince would be enough to break the tenuous grip he had on his fury. It had melted from a burning in his blood to a frigid blade he could almost feel pressing against his palm.

Three moves, he told himself.

That would be all it would take to reach the prince and sever his spine. Three moves to rid himself of the threat, and two more to remove her from danger entirely. In less than a minute he could have them both in the sky, up and out of bow range in no more than thirty heartbeats.

He felt a warm hand slide into the crook of his arm as a soft, feminine scent twined around him.

“Peace, Love,” Mor breathed, linking her arm through his as she casually peeled them away from the prince and towards their own side of the grand dais. “We’re not yet unobserved.”

“I need—“ Cassian began, voice quaking with effort as his eyes remained on Nesta. He could feel her hovering near the edge of his consciousness, closer now than she’d been for months.

It was enough to drive him out of his mind.

His heart surged and sputtered in his chest, breaths becoming too shallow as his face began to grow numb from lack of oxygen.

“I can’t—“

“Cassian—”

Cassian brushed off Mor’s hand before she could protest, pealing away from the assembly and down the nearest corridor, not caring where it took him.He burst into the first door he found—which turned out to be a servants’ pantry—slamming it behind him before letting out a scream of undiluted rage.

All the time he’d spent searching, all the time he’d wasted not being at Nesta’s side, and now the female was here as a member of the Macaran court.

He screamed again, shattering the gritted mirror hanging on the wall with a fist.

It was too much; it was all too much, and Cassian felt it tugging at his every seam, unstitching him one pulled thread at a time. He warred with the violation seeing the female had riled in his gut and the vengeance he felt stirring in his bones.

It was in the Illyrian blood to meet every transgression committed against you blow for blow. It keeps the soul unblemished, his mother had always told him; that which is left to languish will eventually begin to fester and rot.

He could feel that rot now, coursing like venom through his system as he struggled for control.

He’d been right, all this time. The Macarans were behind everything, and still they were here, dining at the High Lord’s table and—

Cassian screamed a third time, picking up a jug of wine and hurling it at the wall with all his might before crumpling to his knees, breaths sawing through him.

“Sorun nedir, arkadaşim?”

Cassian lifted his head at hearing the Dalyanian dialect of his childhood, so different from the Atalyan they’d always spoken in the war camps.

Azriel had appeared out the shadow in the corner of the room, eyes lambert in the dim light.

Cassian bent his head, still fighting savagely from composure. He knew that after all they’d been together he and Azriel were beyond being ashamed in front of one another, but still he felt a gelid wave of it wash over him as his friend knelt at his side.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Azriel repeated, this time in the common tongue.

Cassian let out a shuddering exhale, falling back onto his haunches as he ran hand along the plait in his hair.

“She’s here. The female from the Corona. I saw her in the crowd earlier.”

Azriel’s brows drew together as his hand on Cassian’s shoulder tightened. He clearly needed no clarification on who Cassian meant.

“Are—“

“Please don’t ask me if I’m sure,” Cassian croaked. “You know that I am.”

Azriel bowed his head for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I should have—it shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

Cassian’s throat felt too tight for words, so he only nodded, hauling himself to his feet and cuffing Azriel’s neck to pull him in close until they were brow-to-brow, an old gesture of respect among Illyrians he knew Az would understand.

“It’s not your fault, Az.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a cold fury his expression would never betray.

“I failed you,” he said, pulling from Cassian’s grip and flexing and unflexing his knife hand. “You and Nesta both.”

Cassian shook his head, unable to bare Azriel’s self-recrimination on top of everything else.

“Then make it up to me. Help me find a way to get her away from the Macarans.”

Azriel nodded, seeming to gather his composure.

“Does Rhys know?” He asked.

“No, I—“ Cassian broke off, running a shaking hand over his lips. “I didn’t want to rouse suspicion.”

He didn’t need to add that he’d also been losing his composure and had to get away to avoid making a scene; one look around the ruined storeroom was proof enough of that.

Azriel nodded again, jaw working as he considered.

“I will send Nuala and Cerridwen to scout the Macarans’ rooms. It’s possible whoever is holding her leash wants to keep her out of sight.”

“The smarter move would be to keep her close,” Cassian pointed out. “I’m sure that’s why they took the risk in bringing her here.”

A muscle worked in Azriel’s jaw.

“Adan knew I would send spies to Macar to search for her while the territory was unmanned.”

“Then he’s not as stupid as he looks,” Cassian said through his teeth.

“If he was really clever he would have killed her,” Azriel pointed on, hand straying to Truth-teller as if he was imagining doing just that.

Cassian had thought the same. The fact that they hadn’t—

“We need to be on our guard; it could be they’ve spared her for a purpose.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed in the semi-dark as he ran a hand over Truth-Teller’s obsidian hilt.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Cassian nodded, feeling his own resolve growing as Az clapped him on the shoulder.

“I promise, brother,” Azriel said, voice cold steel. “Tonight you'll get your answers. Right now we need to get back; we’ve been gone too long already.”

Cassian nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face and straightening his leathers as Azriel disappeared out of the door. Picking up a pewter goblet from one of the shelves, Cassian filled it with a mouthful of wine before he too slipped from the room.

He forced a slight stagger into his stride as he re-entered the grand hall, draining the small measure from his goblet before dropping it with a slightly-drunk chuckle and grabbing another from a passing servant girl. A cluster of Summer Court guards who stood nearby cheered as he drained the new goblet, and he raised his empty cup in salute before taking a third and heading for his place at the head table.

Mor laughed at seeing him, though the merriment didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you drunk, Lord Commander?” she said, patting his arm as he dropped into his seat before adding in a whisper, “Cas, are you alright?”

He flashed her the lazy, edged grin he knew everyone expected from him.

“It’s a party; we should all be drunk.”

He raised his glass to closest Illyrian dignitaries, who all laughed obligingly as he did. Ellaria—who sat to Mor’s left—seemed to understand the diversion for what it was and turned to engage the Macaran finance minister in small talk to give him and Mor a reprieve from prying ears. Cassian was so grateful that were Ellaria not Mor’s mate, he would have kissed her.

“What is it?” Mor said, flashing Ellaria a smile as well.

“She’s here,” Cassian breathed. “The female. I saw her in the crowd when the Macarans arrived.”

The only indication that Mor had heard was the pallor in her ordinarily-bronze skin. She glanced down at the table in a casual gesture before whispering, “Have you told—“

“Az already knows,” Cassian said into his goblet, still not looking at Mor directly. “He’s going to tell Rhys and Feyre.”

“What are you going to do?”

Cash took another drink of wine, this one not entirely for show.

“We need to find her first. Then—“ he blew out an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure.”

“My gut says she’s here,” Mor murmured, pretending to straighten the skewed collar of his leather doublet with the affectionate fuss of a nursemaid.

“Mine too,” Cassian admitted. “How many of these servants do you recognize? the smart thing to do would be to hide her in plain sight.”

Mor scanned the room over the rim of her gem-studded goblet.

“Not enough,” she murmured. “Especially with all the other courts here as well.”

“Black hair,” he said into his own drink, quiet enough he couldn’t be overheard. “Dark eyes.”

“That’s half the females in the territory, Cas.”

“You’ll know her when you see her.“

Mor nodded her assent before casually turning her attention back to Ellaria to keep the conversation from seeming suspiciously intense.

Maintaining the pretense of drunken content through dinner was almost unbearable, but Cassian managed to hold on until the plates were cleared and Rhys stood, a hush echoing over the crowd as his power swirled around him like a onyx-studded cape. He raised his glass, his smile resplendent even as his gaze remained shrewd.

“Tomorrow,” he began. “We will celebrate the union of two great houses with all the solemnity and pomp such an occasion is due. But tonight, let us simply drink and get to know one another! Every hospitality my house has to offer is open to you all, and I only command you honor the Night by indulging in all its pleasures. May we look back on this evening years from now and celebrate all the friendships forged, memories made, and perhaps even the younglings conceived.”

At this there was a titter of heated laughter, and Rhys raised his goblet.

“Please, begin!”

There was a ripple of shock and applause as all the banquet tables disappeared at once, the soft, honeyed music growing dark and drugging as a haunting waltz began. Rhys offered a hand to Feyre and they descended onto the floor and began moving across it with the ease of two people who’d memorized how the other moved.

Cassian watched as the dance drew more participants from other courts, the space Rhys had cleared quickly refilling with bodies as the wine continued to flow.

Cassian was afraid to look too and see Nesta spinning across the floor in Adan’s arms, though curiosity quickly got the better of him. He glanced to where Nesta had been sited at the center of the grand dais to find her deep in conversation with the prince, Adan’s smile as effortless as the arm which he’d strung behind Nesta’s chair as he listened to her speak.

Red fizzed at the edge of Cassian’s vision at seeing the female he so adored with someone else, especially one as unworthy as the spoiled, treacherous princeling. Though his expression was mild, Adan still looked at Nesta like a target and not the arrow Cassian knew her to be, and it was enough to drive him mad.

Needing to do something productive, Cassian peeled off the wall and started towards Mor. He needed a way to survey the room without seeming suspicious, and the easiest way to do that was to go to the place he was least likely to be observed. Mor obliged him as he slipped a hand around her waist, fingers skimming the soft skin of her bare back as he swung her around and onto the dance floor.

She didn’t miss a beat. Using one hand to keep her voluminous plum skirts from underfoot, she strung the other around his shoulders, letting him guide her around the room as if the floor were made of glass.

 “Anything?” She breathed.

He tried to keep his focus muted as he scanned the faces of the hundreds of servants scattered around the room, as terrified as he was eager to see that face—her face—again.

“Not yet.”

By the third time around the floor he knew they needed to take a break; too long in his arms and gossip would spread in a bleed pattern Cassian didn’t want staining Mor’s reputation so close to her mating ceremony.

Just as he was preparing to release Mor back to Ellaria, who stood patiently waiting, he saw something which caught his eye.

Amidst the beehive of activity, there was one servant who’d remained in the same place the entire time he and Mor had been dancing. He didn’t dare look at the female head-on, but Cassian couldn’t help the way his fingers tightened on Mor’s waist as he swung her around again, using the diamond comb she wore as a mirror to get a better look.

Cassian couldn’t breathe.

The female stood with a jug of wine in her hand, but she made no move to refill any of the rapidly-drained goblets of the guests surrounding her, her back instead remaining glued to the wall.

“Where?” Mor said as he twisted her again in time to the music.

“Far wall,” he said, leaning in like they were sharing a private joke as he directed Mor to look where he’d indicated. “Standing behind the prince’s cousin.”

Mor’s face didn’t change from its beautific smile as she surveyed Lazar briefly, but disgust limned her eyes.

“We need to get Rhys and Azriel,” she said quietly as they spun a final time. “Meet me at the far refreshment table in two minutes.”

Cassian only forced a grin in reply, giving Mor a slightly drunken bow as he kissed her hand and headed for the table she’d indicated, looking for all the world like a drunken male in search of his next fix.

Indeed, when he arrived the long drought he took from the proffered goblet is was not merely for show. Cassian couldn’t be certain what would happen next, but he knew in his belly it would be painful. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he didn’t want to have to face it entirely sober.

Azriel appeared at his elbow several heartbeats later, and Cassian fought down an almost frantic anticipation as he turned to his friend.

“Where?” Azriel said in greeting, and Cassian indicated with his eyes as he took another heady sip.

“She hasn’t moved from that spot for ten minutes at least,” he explained, forcing his posture to remain languid.

“Lazar,” Azriel surmised, and Cassian nodded.

“We need to draw his attention elsewhere,” Cassian said. “Any ideas?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Azriel admitted. “I suppose I could—“

“I have one.”

Cassian’s heart squeezed almost painfully as he turned to find Elain standing behind him, her expression solemn but more gentle than he’d seen it in weeks.

“You would help me?” He asked.

Her brows knitted as she pressed forward to lightly cup his cheek. He couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered closed at the touch. It wasn’t just Nesta’s company he’d missed these long weeks alone; it had been Feyre and Elain’s as well.

“Forgive me I didn’t do it sooner,” she said, eyes glassy. “Az told me the female from the tavern is here, traveling with the prince. I was wrong to doubt you, Cassian.”

“You were protecting Nesta,” he said, pulling her hand away to kiss her palm. “I will never fault you for that.”

Elain nodded, clearing her throat as she seemed to collect herself. She turned to her husband, the famed Archeron steel flashing in her eyes.

“When I give the signal, grab the girl and go. Feyre will be in position to take her place should anyone care to look.”

“What is the signal?” Azriel said, eyes scanning the dais to ensure that Adan was still suitably occupied.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Elain replied. “Stay out of sight until then.”

With a final smile tossed in Cassian’s direction she swept off, her sage gown adorned with burgundy rosettes so at odds with the darkness surrounding her. Between her gown and her beauty, the crowd parted easily for her as she made her way across the room to where Céres—Tamlin’s wife—stood beside him lost and somewhat lonely.

Tamlin remained deep in conversation with Tarquin as Céres wistfully studied the couples dancing, her face brightening as Elain came to loop an arm through hers. Elain made the proper greetings to both Tamlin and Tarquin before gently steering Céres away to take a lap about the room. Cassian felt for the girl as he watched her chatting animatedly to Elain, clearly grateful for someone to speak to at last.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what part Elain needed her play. He could tell—even without looking at him—that Azriel was thinking the same, though Elain didn’t leave them wondering for long.

Cassian caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd as he tracked their progress around the room, and he couldn’t fight a sardonic smile as he watched Elain press a hand to her rounded belly and winced, understanding now what she intended.

Céres paused in just the right spot as Elain doubled over slightly in pain, reaching for Céres’s arm to steady herself as she seemed to recover. A second later Cassian watched, his heart beating nearly out of his chest, as Elain pretended to stumble, sending an unsuspecting Céres sprawling backwards—

And straight into Lazar.

Surprised, he grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling to the floor, his attention fully diverted away from the female who remained glued to the spot when Cassian had first spotted her.

It was enough.

In an instant Azriel had disappeared from Cassian's side, reappearing as nothing more than a long shadow behind where the female stood, watching the exchange between Céres and Lazar with alarm. Cassian's heart thundered as her grabbed her by the wrist and they both vanished.

By now Tamlin was there, an abashed Céres scuttling behind him as he wrapped a protective arm around her and bared his teeth at the younger Illyrian.

"How dare you," Tamlin snarled.

Lazar put his hands up, bronze skin paling at the fangs Tamlin now had mere inches from his throat

"Please, High Lord, this is a misunderstanding!"

He looked somewhat helplessly to Rhys as he approached, hands tucked into the sable pants he wore under his floor-length velvet great coat.

"My Lord, please!" Lazar begged

Rhys clicked his tongue as he surveyed the scene with dispassion, crushed sapphire eyes glittering in the low light.

"Oh Lazar, you do like to make trouble, don't you?"

"I swear, My Lord, she fell into me!"

Tamlin snarled, the sound entirely ursine.

"You had your hands all over her!"

"Lazar, what's going on?"

Adan appeared at his cousin's side, subtly inserting himself between the Tamlin and the younger male. Cassian didn’t dare look to see where Nesta was.

"I'm afraid Lazar's found himself in a bit of trouble," Rhys purred, eyes glittering behind the mask of the cruel High Lord Cassian had seen him wear so many times before. "He seems rather good at that."

Cassian heard Rhys speaking in his mind, voice markedly less amused.

Azriel has her in the dungeon, last door on the left. Be discreet. Make sure you aren't seen, and don't be gone too long. I'll keep the Macarans distracted.

Cassian needed no prompting. Casting a final look to ensure the Illyrians were suitably occupied, he slipped into a shadow and out into the hall, trying to steel himself for what was coming next.

The trek down into the labyrinth of dungeons that coiled beneath the great hall felt like it lasted both an eternity and an instant, and Cassian felt himself—his sanity, his control—unspooling with every step he took.

Azriel had the female, and in mere minutes Cassian would finally know—

Cassian’s heart was in his throat as he pushed open the heavy wood door, making a deliberate show of closing it behind him before turning to face the room’s only two occupants. Azriel stood against the far wall with arms crossed, arctic fury glazing his eyes as he waited for Cassian to speak.

And in the center of the room, seated in a chair with hands and feet bound, was the female Cassian had spent the last three months turning the territory inside out to find.

She looked just as he’d remembered her: a curtain of blue-black hair, eyes dark as pitch and skin the bronze of the Northern climbs. The only thing that had changed was her expression. The morning after their—coupling, she’d first been content and then, seemingly, afraid, and Cassian often wondered what face she’d wear when he finally caught her. He’d expected smugness at what she’d managed to wrought for her Illyrian masters.

What he got instead was...devastation.

She wasn’t making a sound, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks, fresh ones welling in her eyes as she took in his thunderous expression. Somehow, they made him angrier than if she’d been arrogant, and he bared his teeth.

“Save your tears. I won’t be ensorceled by your treachery a second time.”

“Please,” she began, her voice devoid of the sensual husk she’d used on him before. “You don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Pain lanced through him at those words, the same ones he’d pleaded to Nesta so many times since this nightmare had begun. He’d lost a great deal of conviction as time had worn on and Nesta had drifted further and further out of his reach, but here now was the truth—long sought—sobbing in his face.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s your name?”

The female’s brows pulled together as if she meant to resist him by remaining silent, but when she caught the flash of True-Teller’s blade from the corner of her eye, she relented.

“Rabia.”

“Who sent you to Velaris, Rabia? Who told you where I’d be that day?”

The female shook her head, tears falling to soak the unadorned servant’s livery she wore.

“Please, it’s not what you think.”

“Speak plainly,” Azriel commanded. “If you cannot use your tongue, we’ll have no further use for it beyond supper for the hounds.”

“Please!” Rabia said a third time,straining at her bonds. “I didn’t have a choice!”

“Why not?” Cassian pressed. “You’re not Macaran; you’re not even Illyrian. Why do this for them?”

“For my son!” she burst.

This stopped Cassian in his tracks, some of the anger bleeding out of him. Even without Mor’s gift, he could tell from the look in Rabia’s eyes that she was telling the truth.

“What would the Illyrians care for one high fae child?” Azriel said.

“He’s half-Illyrian,” Rabia said. “And his father threatened to have him sent to the camp at Kaletaş if I didn’t help. I would never have been allowed to see him! Please, try to understand.”

Cassian and Azriel traded a look over the female’s head. Kaletaş was the Northernmost camp, and one famous for its brutality even among people undaunted by harsh measures.

“Who is his father?” Azriel said, peeling off the wall the circle the female. “He must be well-connected if he has the power to influence the Kaletaşi camp-leaders.”

Rabia winced as if the question had dealt her a physical blow.

“He’ll kill me,” she said, voice growing hoarse from her tears. “If he found out it was me who’d told you. He’ll kill me, and send Safet to Kaletaş. Please, he’s only ten. I’m all he has.”

“If the Macarans succeed in starting a civil war, your boy won’t stand a chance whether you are there to protect him or not,” Azriel snarled quietly. “Tell us who his father—“

“It’s Lazar,” Cassian said, watching as the remaining color drained from the female’s face. “Isn’t it?”

Her sobs began anew, trapped in her throat as she fought to master herself. Cassian wasn’t surprised. It was just the sort of cruel and foolish thing Lazar would do, using the mother of his child to achieve his selfish ends.

“It was a mistake,” Rabia breathed. “A horrible mistake, but by the time I realized it was too late; I was already pregnant. I tried to flee, but someone told Lazar I was with child and he dragged me back. We have been beholden to him ever since.”

“Why did he send you to Velaris? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing!”

Cassian bared his teeth, temperature rising again as she sputtered, fighting her bonds.

“He didn’t tell me why he wanted me to go,” Rabia said. “He just gave me orders and sent me South.”

“And what were your orders?” Azriel prompted.

Color flooded Rabia's cheeks even as she withered under Cassian’s unceasing stare. It was the question he’d dreaded to ask, even as every part of him strained to hear the answer. Rabia shook her head, and Azriel’s hand went to Truth-teller in warning.

“Speak,” he snarled.

The female bit her lip.

“To seduce the General.”

Cassian felt his axis tilting. It was the answer he’d been waiting for, been hoping for since he first began putting the puzzle together weeks ago. Still, the confirmation was a knife in the ribs. He felt sick when he remembered the score marks on his wings the next morning, the realization that Lazar had likely instructed her where to touch him in order to scent-mark him enough to drive him mad with humiliation and grief.

“And Adan? Was he in on this as well?” Azriel said.

Rabid shook her head, brows synched.

“I don’t know.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I don’t know!” Rabia repeated with more conviction. “I’ve never even met the prince. If he is complicit in Lazar’s scheming, I have no knowledge of it.”

It was exactly what Cassian hadn’t wanted to hear. They still had no evidence Adan was involved, nor any to prove he was innocent either. And if he was innocent, what would it mean for his betrothal to Nesta? The idea was enough to make Cassian’s tomach roil, and he forced himself to focus on Rabia’s interrogation instead.

“I was sick for weeks after,” he said. “What did you give me?”

“I—“

The door boomed open as Nesta swept in, Mor on her heels. The latter eased the door shut and locked it behind them as Nesta’s blazing eyes took in the scene before her.

She looked every inch the commanding Şezhana in the resplendent ebony gown she wore, the conical gold combs in her hair resembling a corona of spikes. She stood completely motionless, the glimmer off the torchlight against the gems studding her bodice the only indication she was even still breathing.

Cassian’s heart became an exploding star in his chest, its force threatening to tear his soul from its mooring as he watched Nesta. He could see the exact moment Rabia’s scent hit her from the way her back when rigid, as if she could no longer feign indifference or miscomprehension. Finally, she turned her burning gaze on him. It was the first time she’d deigned to look at him full-on since this had all begun, and her beauty made his knees weak even now.

“What is this?” She said, hands forming into such tight fists that her knuckles had gone white.

“You know what this is,” he said.

He could hear her heart as it began to beat faster, her ribcage struggling to expand against the corset she wore. He longedto cut the damn thing off her so she could get a good breath, but he knew he had to stay where he was.

After a moment she looked at Azriel.

“Is it true?”

Azriel in turn faced Rabia, crossing arms across his chest.

“Tell her. Tell her what you told us.”

Rabia swallowed, voice thin when she finally spoke.

“I was sent to Velaris by Lazar to seduce the Lord Commander.”

“And if he couldn’t be swayed?” Azriel prompted.

The female bowed her head.

“I was given a tonic. I was told it would make him—pliant.”

“And was he?”

It was Mor, her voice hammered thin by a fury Cassian rarely saw from her.

Rabia looked around, eyes wide.

“Was he what?”

“Swayed. Were you successful in seducing him?”

Rabia’s throat worked, and that she settled for looking at Cassian and Azriel was a testament to the fear both Nesta and Mor managed to inspire.

“No,” she admitted. “I offered myself to him, but he—“

She broke off, trying to master herself.

“Speak,” Mor snarled.

Rabia swallowed a sob.

“He said he was flattered, but that he was in love with another female. That they were...” she made a sound that was half-sob, half-wretch. “That they were mates.”

Cassian felt dizzy. It was the first time any of them had formally acknowledged the word out loud, and it clanged through him with such violence that he felt for a moment he might be ill. He waited, breathless, for Nesta to deny the claim, but she didn’t, jaw set as Mor pressed, “So you drugged him, and had your way with him while he was too incapacitated to stop you, is that it?”

“No!” Rabia said. “I would never—“

“But you did!” Mor snarled, drawing a dagger from the folds of her gown and advancing on the still-bound Rabia with alarming speed. “Can you deny it? When he rejected your advance, you slipped something into his drink!”

Rabia sobbed.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Mor said, teeth bared. “After you rap—“

“Enough, Mor,” Cassian said, not able to hear the next word said aloud. “You’ve made your point.”

“I’m just getting started,” Mor snarled, but then Azriel was there, slitting the bonds on Rabia’s hands and pushing her into Mor’s arms.

“Take her to Rhys,” he said. “Tell him to alter her memory and let her go; we can’t afford to let Lazar know we suspect him yet.”

Mor’s lip curled in disgust, but she took Rabia’s arm without further comment, dragging her from the room.

Cassian hardly noticed. His full attention was on Nesta, who was staring at him almost as if she’d never seen him before.

“I will leave you to talk,” Azriel said with a glance between them.

Before Cassian could think to reply, Az was gone and he and Nesta were alone.

For a minute they merely stood looking at each other, the silence deafening. Finally he couldn’t bear it, and Cassian broke.

“Nesta,” he began, advancing a step. “I’m sorry.”

Her only reply was several steps in the opposite direction. After everything they’d endured—that she’d been forced to endure—he wasn’t sure why it surprised him; he’d been foolish to think of few words from Rabia would undo all the hurt that festered between them. Still, he knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to explain.

“Please, Nes,” he said. “I—“

“Why are you sorry?” Nesta interrupted, voice clipped and cold.

His brows drew together, her sharp tone a freshly-whetted blade he knew she would use to carve out his heart even now, even knowing the truth.

“Because I failed you.”

Her expression grew stormy, and he wondered where things had gone so wrong that even now she still hated him. However, after a moment he watched the thunderhead raging in her grey eyes swell and erupt, her face melting into something sorrowful and stark.

“No,” she said, and he realized the tightness in her voice wasn’t anger—it was tears. ”It’s I who has failed you.”

“No, Nes—“

She held up a hand to ward him off when he chanced another step in her direction, several tears skidding down her cheeks as her lip trembled with the effort of maintaining her composure.

“I should have listened to you,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I listen?”

Cassian’s heart strained to near-bursting.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Her brows synched as her anguish seemed to gain some ground on her composure. He knew that besides Elain and perhaps Feyre, he was the only one who’d ever seen Nesta Archeron so undone, and it was not a burden he took lightly.

“Of course it does,” she said, voice brittle but no less edged. “How can you stand to look at me knowing how I’ve wronged you?”

Cassian’s throat grew tight, everything he’d learned from Rabia coalescing with his missing Nesta to form a leaden knot in his stomach.

“Because I love you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, tears flowing freely now. “I know that now.”

Cassian’s eyes burned.

“Then please, won’t you let me hold you?”

Nesta let out a choked noise, eyes almost fearful as she looked up at him.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Please Nesta, let me—” 

Nesta shook her head, arms wrapped around herself like she was afraid she’d physically fall apart.

“If I let myself near you, I will never find the strength to do what I have to.”

The words were a knife to the gut.

“You can’t mean to go through with the betrothal.”

Nesta bit her lip.

“What choice do I have?”

“We have proof—“

She shook her head, seeming somewhat resigned now.

“It’s not enough, and we both know it. If we truly mean to expose Lazar’s treachery, we must have hard evidence of his crimes.”

“And Adan?”

She flinched a bit at thename, though her back remained straight as she said through her tears, “perhaps Adan is my penance, for what I’ve put you through.”

Cassian couldn’t fight the tear that slipped out at that, at the blade Nesta had turned inward upon the realization she’d been wrong.

“You haven’t put me through anything I wouldn’t have gladly endured for your sake,” he said. “Please, don’t do this.”

She shook her head, jaw set despite the tears shining in her eyes.

“Our problem remains the same, Cassian. Unless we can prove the Macarans have ill intent, we risk civil war. I can’t put my sisters through that, not again. I have to—-“

Nesta covered her hand with her hand and began to sob, and it was a sound so stark in its grief and Cassian felt it tremble through every cell in his body.

Damning the consequences he dropped his shield, his consciousness racing down the bridge towards hers as he surged for her, just in time to catch her as she sagged to the floor.

He gathered her into his arms as she unraveled, her face buried in his neck as her whole body shook with the force of her tears.

“Forgive me,” she sobbed. “Please, say that you forgive me.”

Cassian coaxed her head from his shoulder, brushing the loose hair from her face as he gazed into her eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive, minu südame süda. None of this is your fault.”

Nesta’s eyes fell closed as she rested her cheek against his palm, even as her long nails dug into his arm.

“I will kill her for what she’s done to you. I will spike her head to the gates of this foul city, and Lazar’s alongside it. You have my word.”

He brushed away a tear skidding down the apple of her cheek.

“I would rather have your promise that you will not go back to Macar. Please, Nes. I’ve only just gotten you back. Do not ask me to send you away.”

She pulled his hand away from her face.

“You would go, if our places were reversed.”

“Not if you asked me to stay.”

Her gaze was steady but unyielding as she studied him.

“I know what beats in your heart; you cannot lie to me.”

He felt the pressure building behind his eyes at the realization she was right. He fended off a choked exhale as she reached forward to press a hand to his heart, gentle in a way he rarely imagined Nesta being.

“I must go, and you must let me.”

“And if it turns out to be only Lazar? If Adan is innocent in all this?”

A muscle feathered in her jaw.

“I don’t know.”

“You would be honor-bound by the kilhamine to marry him. He would steal you away to Macar, and we would never—“

Nesta shook her head, fingers brushing his lips in a silent command.

“Our path has never been easy, but still it’s always found a way to lead us back to one another. For now that must be enough.”

“Nes...”

“Te cакам,” she breathed.

Had Cassian not already been on the ground, his knees would have given out to hear her say it. He’d all but given up hope that he ever would.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I can’t lose you.”

“No,” she said, eyes fluttering closed. “You cannot, because I am already yours.”

There was a long pause in which neither of them spoke, and despite everything Cassian had longed to say to Nesta all these weeks alone, in that moment he knew there was nothing he needed to say that she didn’t already know.

He would have assumed it was the bond, but he realized it was nothing so complicated as any of that; it was simply the ease of two people who’d known and loved one another long enough not to need to speak to be mutually understood.

Instead Cassian reveled in her light, elegant scent and the softness of her skin as he breezed his thumb across her cheekbone. When she didn’t pull away from his touch he leaned a fraction closer, lips brushing the remaining tears from her cheeks before gravitating towards her mouth and hovering.

“Nesta,” he breathed, free hand tangling in the mass of curls coming unspooled from the heavy gold pins.

At her name she seemed to snap from her trance, pressing her fingers to his lips as she shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. “We can’t.”

Mastering herself she pulled away, wiping her eyes as she struggled to her feet amidst the obsidian sea of her gown.

“I have to go. Adan will be suspicious.”

Cassian would be surprised at her composure but for the fact that Nesta seemed to possess strength beyond what the Mother had given other, lesser creatures. Even now with her gown rumpled and her eyes slightly red-rimmed, she was a pillar of steel.

“Go,” he said. “I will wait before following.”

Nesta nodded, though her lips tightened as she studied him with increased scrutiny.

“Promise me you’ll do nothing rash until we can speak with the others and formulate a plan for dealing with Lazar.”

Despite everything he found himself smiling weakly. He’d missed hearing his Nesta giving orders. However, the mirth faded at seeing her grave expression and the spectre of fear still shading her bright eyes.

“You have my word,” he said.

She nodded again, and he bowed his head as she turned to slip through the door. Even knowing why she had to leave, he didn’t think he could bear to watch her physically go, especially knowing who she was going back to.

“Cassian?”

Surprised, Cassian glanced up to see her still standing in the arched doorway, the torchlight dancing off the gems in her gown making her appear as if she were tongued in dark flame. Her brows drew together as they studied one another for a moment in silence. Finally, she continued, voice soft but resolute.

“I’m sorry for what she did to you. I understand you may need time to process or to grieve, but when you’re ready to speak, I will be here to listen.”

Cassian’s throat was instantly, unbearably tight, and all he could manage was a croaked, “I love you.”

She didn’t repeat the sentiment, but Cassian could feel echoes of it drifting down the bond between them as she gave him a final look and disappeared.

Cassian didn’t know how long he remained there in the dark after that, knowing there were a million things that needed tending to without being able to make himself do a single one. All he could think about was Rabia admitting she’d slipped a tonic in his drink, and Nesta saying ‘I love you’. Pain and joy coalesced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob in weighing what he’d both lost and gained that evening.

In the end he found himself too fragile to do either, and he pushed them down instead, rising to his feet as he transformed from a heartbroken male to the General of the Night Court legions.

If he had to be patient to get his hands on Lazar, so be it; the wait would make his death all the sweeter. And if he had to wait for Nesta—he sighed, expelling a shaky breath before steeling himself and exiting the dungeon cell. If he had to wait a thousand years for Nesta, he would do it. For now he could only do his part and pray it wouldn’t come to that.

The morning after the welcome feast, Nesta found herself once again in her dressing room, though this time she wasn’t alone. She tried to ignore the faint echo of her pulse which buzzed in her ears, a symptom of stress she’d suffered from on and off since childhood. It had largely subsided the last fifty years, though it had begun to occur with more frequency since things had gone to pieces with Cassian. After what she’d learned the night before, it had been pounding non-stop, the ringing enough to nearly drive her mad.

It had been so loud and persistent when she’d first torn herself away from Cassian’s side and rejoined the feast that it had been difficult to hear anything being said as she fought to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

It had grown from a buzzing to a roar when she’d felt the slide of a warm, calloused hand at her elbow.

“There you are,” Adan had breathed in her ear, close enough that his lips nearly brushed the pointed tip. “I thought I’d lost you.”

It took a lifetime of unassailable self-restraint not to stiffen at the proprietary touch, especially as Adan continued, “come, dance with me.”

With that he’d slipped a hand around her waist, the other tucking behind his back as she brought her hand to his shoulder, the other going to keep her sea of skirts from underfoot. She wondered if he could hear her heart as they turned across the floor, other guests stepping out of their path as Adan maneuvered her with ease.

Adan had watched Nesta with curious scrutiny as they danced, but Nesta hadn’t been able to bring herself to smile at him as she perhaps should have. The female’s confession had still been ringing in her ears, fraying her sanity.

Cassian had been right; all this time he’d been telling her the truth, and she’d been too guarded and selfish to see the truth. And when she thought of what had been done to him in order to sow discord between them...

“Are you alright, prensesim?”

Nesta had forced herself to look at Adan, trying to mimic the guileless expression Elain used when she wished to feign sweet ignorance.

“Fine,” she’d said. “Only fatigued from the day’s festivities.”

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your chambers, then.”

Nesta had glanced around for someone who might spare her from this fate, but finding no one she’d merely nodded. They ascended into the royal apartments in silence, and when they’d reached Nesta’s rooms she’d attempted a hasty kiss on the cheek as she bid Adan goodnight.

However, he’d gently caught at her hands, pressing her into the door as his soft lips found hers. Nesta had contemplated shoving him off considering everything she’d heard that evening. After all, this was a male who’d possibly been responsible for abusing Cassian, and that was enough to make Nesta want to gut him like a fish.

However, it was just as possible he was innocent, and they would need his support in punishing Lazar and breaking the engagement given that it had been made under false pretenses. With no proof of the former, she’d let him kiss her, even as she searched for a way to end it. If he was innocent, she didn’t want to be accused of fallaciously leading him on.

She’d been relieved when he’d pulled back, though the feeling was short-lived as he whispered, “I know I promised I would not force you, but may I come to you tonight after the city sleeps? I feel I will go mad if I cannot—”

“Nesta.”

The stricture in Nesta’s throat had loosened at seeing Elain, her smile benign but her doe-brown eyes flashing with a fire Nesta had been sure only she could see.

“Forgive me, I am interrupting?”

Adan had flushed at that, stepping back from Nesta and giving Elain a courtier’s bow. He’d then turned back to Nesta a final time, eyes full of yearning as he said, “Until tomorrow then, my princess.”

With that he’d disappeared, and Elain had pressed into Nesta’s arms, grip fierce.

“Azriel told me what happened,” Elain had said, touching Nesta’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I feel a monster,” Nesta had admitted. “I was wrong to doubt him.”

“No one blames you,” Elain had assured her. “Least of all Cassian.”

“I don’t believe you would have treated Azriel in such a manner, were our places reversed.”

“Don’t torture yourself, please. The good news is that you know the truth now, and we have a chance to stop all this before Lazar succeeds in whatever it is he’s planning. The others are waiting to discuss strategy. Would you—”

“I can’t,” Nesta had interrupted. “It’s all too raw.”

Elain had only nodded.

“We’ll speak before the ceremony tomorrow. Try to rest, my love.”

Nesta had nodded, Elain squeezing her hand a final time before turning to go.

“Elain? Please, tell Cassian…”

When she’d trailed off, Elain smiled.

“He already knows,” Elain had said. “But I will.”

Nesta had no further energy after that, and she’d slipped inside her room, staying only long enough to change into a more comfortable shift and slippers before summoning Nuala and asking she wake the tailor.

There was something Nesta needed done.

Now, sitting in her dressing room in the moonstone palace surrounded by the rest of her court, she felt more composed, though admittedly no less anxious inside.

Cassian had yet to arrive, but Rhysand, the Shadowsinger, the Morrigan, and both of her sisters were discussing their next move.

“We ought to use the girl to expose Lazar’s lies and be done with the whole affair,” Mor snarled from where she lounged on a nearby chaise. “This has gone on long enough.”

Azriel gave a dismissive sound from where he stood near the window, monitoring for unfriendly eyes and ears on the balcony beyond.

“Lazar will dismiss Rabia as a liar, and it will be her word against his.”

“So we force the truth out of him,” Mor said. “Between Rhys’s gift and mine, it would be over fairly quickly.”

“I tested them last night,” Rhysand said. “The Macarans mental defenses are impressive. Tunneling through would take more time than we have.”

“Besides,” Feyre added. “How will it look if the High Lord is caught trying to break into the minds of his vassals? We’d be facing the exact war we’ve been trying so hard to avoid.”

“Where does that leave us, then?” Elain asked.

“In the same place,” Nesta said tightly. “I must go forward with the kilhamine. I will use the time I have in Illyria between now and the wedding to discover proof of Lazar’s betrayal and determine whether Adan is involved as well.”

“If you fail, you’ll have no choice but to go through with the marriage,” Feyre pointed out in a soft voice. “You will be bound to Adan for the rest of your life, whether he is guilty or not.”

Nesta stiffened at the idea, even as she forced her shoulders back.

“It’s a risk we have to take. Cassian agrees.”

“This will be agony for him,” Mor said, tone edged with frost. “For you the bond will be easier to ignore, but for him it will be a physical and emotional torment now that you’ve acknowledged the claim.”

“There is no claim. He’s not some beast ruled only by primal instinct. He knows why I’m doing this, and that it does not change what lies between us, bond or no,” Nesta clipped.

“Does he?” Mor challenged.

“Yes. And I do not remember inviting you into our affairs, now or ever.”

“This decision doesn’t affect just you—”

“Mor, enough,” Rhysand cut in. “Nesta is right; this decision is between her and Cassian, and it is also the best one available to us right now.”

At this he turned to Nesta.

“Az and I will work on Lieutenant Na’ahmah while you are away. She seems an honorable female, and she’s in the prince’s confidence. It is possible she may know some of his secrets. At the very least, she’ll know where his skeletons are buried; it could be useful in scaring up proof.”

Nesta nodded, not wanting to discuss this any further. She knew in her gut that she was making the right choice in forging ahead with the kilhamine, but it didn’t make the idea of binding herself to a male other than Cassian—even temporarily—any easier.

“I need to get dressed,” she said in dismissal. “We can speak more after the ceremony; I don’t leave for Illyria until nightfall.”

The males and Morrigan—still looking displeased—nodded their understanding and filed out, leaving only the Archeron sisters.

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” Feyre again. “But for what it’s worth, Nes, I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t be. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Who among us hasn’t?” Elain said. “That you would acknowledge them at all is a testament to your character.”

Nesta’s throat tightened at this, and not wanting to delve further she instead asked, “Have you seen him yet today? How—” she swallowed, fighting to keep her voice even. “How is he?”

“He went on patrol early this morning,” Feyre said. “I think he needed something to distract him from—” Feyre broke off to squeeze Nesta’s hand. “He promised he’d return before the ceremony began. I’m sure this will be his first stop.”

Nesta merely nodded at this, grateful for Nuala and Cerridwen as they appeared, the latter bearing a garmented wrapped in soft linen.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Elain said, smiling.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Feyre added with a kiss to Nesta’s cheek. “We will send Cassian to you the minute he returns.”

With that her sisters disappeared as well, and Nesta half-collapsed into the small divan in front of her vanity, taking a deep breath. It all seemed so much more dire now that she was alone.

She hadn’t had the courage to ask her sisters to stay. Despite the fact she knew they loved her, it was difficult to let herself be vulnerable with them. She was the eldest, and yet she’d failed to protect them in so many ways whether they were growing up. The least she could do for them now was remain composed, at least when they were around.

“Are you ready to begin, My Lady?” Nuala said, a hand resting on Nesta’s shoulder.

Her touch was cool even through the silk of Nesta’s dressing gown, and she found it oddly reassuring.

She nodded, and the twins began on her hair. For the ceremony it would remain unbound in the Illyrian custom, save for a portion at the top. Nuala and Cerridwen brushed out the conker mass of Nesta’s hair before coaxing curls into the ends and teasing volume into a section at the crown.

When it was finished they helped her into her restrictive undergarments and tightened her corset before unwrapping the package which lay on the bed.

“Straight from the dressmaker, My Lady,” Cerridwen said, pulling the gown from it’s bed of linen. “And just as you instructed.”

Nesta exhaled a shaking breath, coming forward to brush the silken skirt. Originally the gown had been white and studded with diamonds. An unusual choice for a kilhamine gown, or so she’d been told, though in the end it acceptable for the occasion. However, after what Nesta had learned of Cassian the night before, she’d been desperate for some way to show him what he still meant to her.

So she’d gone to Rhysand’s famed tailor, waking the ancient female to ask her that the gown be dyed cardinal and that the diamonds be replaced with rubies. The gnarled faerie had grumbled at the inconvenience at first, but something in Nesta’s expression must have convinced her because eventually she’d agreed, informing Nesta it would be ready in the morning before all but slamming the door in her face. Nesta had listened to the soft purr of the female’s magic as she began coaxing color into the gems one by one before retreating to her own room again.

Cardinal was the color most closely related to glory in Illyria and as such it would make an obvious choice for a kilhamine gown. However, Nesta had been sure to explain the exact shade she’d wanted, and seeing it now, she was not disappointed.

It was somehow richer than an ordinary red, and the color perfectly matched the slumberous flame of Cassian’s siphons. It was an ode Nesta was positive would not go unnoticed by those who knew where to look.

Nesta accepted a hand from Nuala as she stepped into the gown, fitted through the low-cut bust before billowing out at the hips. She tried not to fidget as the twins trussed up the army of satin buttons which formed an orderly line down the back.

She could hardly breathe by the time Cerridwen ushered her to sit at the vanity again, easing an elaborate headdress out of a box and placing it atop Nesta’s head before beginning to secure it in place.

A coronet of blood-red roses formed the base, each in perfect bloom. On top of the roses sat a complicated gold crown of sorts, a ruby set into the center, and jutting above it all was a halo of iridescent blue-black macaw feathers which glimmered in the soft light.

It was magnificent beyond measure, offering a beautiful counterpoint to her gown and ruby painted lips. Mutely she accepted a pair of plain good earrings which hung to her bare shoulders from Nuala before meeting her own gaze in the mirror.

She looked no less fierce than she had the day before, but she could acknowledge that she looked less sad. The road ahead still reached farther than she cared to admit, but somehow it felt a little less dark now that she knew the truth: that she was not as weak nor as unlovable as she’d feared.

There was a knock at the door as Nesta rose to her feet, a glance out the window telling her the sun was nearly set. Her heart was in her throat as she reached for the knob, though it sank as she opened it to find Rhysand waiting for her.

He opened his mouth to speak and she merely held up a hand.

“Spare me; I’m not in the mood for your games, Rhysand.”

Rhysand gave a sardonic smile, though she could see something more sincere lurking below it.

“I was merely going to tell you that you look beautiful.”

“I always look beautiful,” she snapped, needing the vitriol to provide her some sense of normalcy.

Rhysand chuckled.

“You look particularly beautiful then.”

When she sniffed, he added, “That color suits you greatly.”

She turned to glare at him for the jibe only to find the mirth had evaporated from his face.

“When did you decide to change it?”

“Last night. After I heard—”

He nodded, offering her his arm as they began the long descent to the great hall of the Hewn City.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been forced to endure, Nesta. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“It’s Cassian who deserves your sympathy, not me.”

“And he has it,” Rhysand said, tugging her arm to halt her as he gently touched her chin. “But you were also deceived, and made to suffer for it. I know you don’t care for being fussed over, but know that you are allowed to grieve as well.”

Nesta gently brushed his hand away.

“When did you become so tolerable?” She said, beginning to walk again.

Rhysand laughed.

“I knew I would wear you down eventually, Nesta Archeron.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned.

Still, something warm had kindled in her chest, helping to fight off the darkness as they moved farther and farther into the belly of the beast. Soon enough they could hear the primal heartbeat of the bone drums, and Nesta felt her own heart’s rhythm falling into step, hammering so hard she was afraid her ribs would be bruised. The gown and her nerves made it difficult to breathe as they halted outside the large wrought-iron gates, the twisting metal meant to represent the scale body of some serpentine beast.

“Azriel will escort you down the aisle,” Rhysand explained, drawing her from her reverie. “But we have time, would you like me to wait—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I wish to be alone for a moment.”

“Alone” wasn’t what she meant and they both knew it, but it was clear from his expression Rhysand had decided against making a comment about it.

“As you wish,” he said, nodding. “Azriel will let you know when it’s time.”

She nodded, warring with the urge to ask where Cassian was. Still, she bit her tongue. If he needed time to gain his composure, she owed it to him without complaint; it was the least she could do.

Instead she found herself pacing back in front of the gates as the drums continued, accompanied now by Night Court strings meant to celebrate the High Lord’s mixed heritage. She couldn’t have said how much time had passed before she heard the rustle of wings and turned to face the Shadowsinger.

Except it wasn’t Azriel. It was Cassian, dressed in the same ornamental armor as the previous day, the same silver hoops strung through his ears.

She watched his throat work as he struggled to speak, and she waited, breathless.

“Nesta,” he said finally.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she admitted. “I would not have blamed you for wanting to stay away.”

“I could never stay away from you,” he said, though she noted he’d yet to come any closer. “Never.”

She nodded, glancing down at her velvet slippers.

“You changed your gown,” he said after a beat. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s for you,” she admitted.

Only with him had she ever felt safe enough to be so vulnerable, and it was a relief to know she still knew how after what they’d been through.

His syphons pulsed dully in response, as if the admission had awoken something in his very power. When he didn’t respond beyond that, Nesta forced herself a step forward.

“How are you?”

He exhaled a shaky breath.

“I would be better were this our kilhamine, and I were waiting for you at the end of that aisle instead of Adan.”

It was a thought she’d spent all day trying to avoid, and hearing him say it out loud made her heart ache.

“I may say the words to Adan, but my vows will be to you.”

Inside the hall the drums seemed to intensify, and Nesta felt the time between them slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

“I’m sorry I did not believe you when I had the chance. Perhaps if I had—” she could hear the tears in her own voice, even knowing she couldn’t let them escape.

Cassian only shook his head.

“I would forgive you anything,” he said. “And in this case there is nothing to forgive. I only ask now that you don’t give up on me.”

“I could never,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Even in my darkest rage I could not hate you the way I longed to.”

The drums changed again, growing more rhythmic. Nesta and Cassian seemed to realize at the same moment they’d run out of time, and in an instant he was there, crushing Nesta against the wall as he kissed her. She strung an arm around his neck to pull him closer and he lifted her nearly off her feet, his tongue brushing hers as he slid his leg between her thighs to keep her upright. Even that slight touch was enough to set her body on fire, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

“Nes,” he groaned, winging flaring slightly as she pressed closer, her breast flush against his chest. “Nesta.”

Her fingers dug into leathers as he moved to her neck, lips brushing the first spot on her body he’d ever touched. She forgot everything but him as he grazed her pulse point with his teeth. A primal fae part of her wanted him to sink them into her flesh in a claiming mark, even knowing such a thing would be damning giveaway—

“Cassian.”

The muscles in Cassian’s back stiffened at hearing Azriel’s voice, but after a breath he gently extricated himself from her embrace, easing her back to the floor and smoothing her rumpled gown.

“You’re needed in the great hall,” Azriel said. “People have begun to take note of your absence.”

Cassian nodded before turning back to Nesta, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“Cassian, now,” Azriel prompted, and as Cassian made to leave, the Shadowsinger caught his arm. “And take more care the next time. Anyone could have seen you two just now.”

Cassian didn’t offer a retort, just gave Nesta a last lingering look before disappearing down the hall towards the ball door into the great hall.

She felt hollowed out in his absence, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s as she fought to keep herself composed after his touch had threatened to undo her.

She was grateful at least that Azriel didn’t seem inclined to comment, and after several steadying breaths she accepted his proffered arm. As with the day before, her gown was heavy and unwieldy, and her corset tight enough that every step was an effort.

She found her breaths growing shorter and shorter as the gates groaned open, and she began to fear she might faint if her corset wasn’t loosened.

However, after a moment she felt an invisible shield of air forming around her nose and mouth, allowing her to take in her own oxygen.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Azriel whispered from her side. “I know it’s difficult, but take deep breaths and try to relax.”

Nesta might have snapped back at him where she not under such duress, but instead she simply did as he instructed, taking in great lungfuls of the cool, cedar-tinted air and blowing it out of her mouth as the gates yawned open and they started up the aisle under the watchful eyes of several hundred guests. At first Nesta tried to focus her attention on Adan, but she quickly found it only had the panic rising in her chest. After struggling once again to regain control, she let her eyes settle on Cassian instead.

It was like a dagger to the heart seeing him there, standing up and to the left of where he should have been, at the middle of the dais waiting for her. However, it was a pain Nesta welcomed, because it at least served as a reminder that this was real and not some fever dream born of loneliness and despair.

Cassian’s expression remained impassive as she made her way to the dais, but when his lips moved almost imperceptibly she knew what he was saying.

Te cакам. I love you.

She didn’t dare acknowledge the sentiment with even a nod, reaching instead to smooth the cardinal silk of her gown. His eyes glittered at the gesture, and though it wasn’t enough to fill Nesta’s aching heart, for now she let it be enough.

She was close enough to the dais now that she let her gaze drift to Adan. He looked as beautiful as she’d even seen him, the livery collar of syphons draped across his broad chest glittering the same color as his dark eyes. She studied him—his posture and the pair of ornamental curved blades hanging at either hip—and wondered for the hundredth time if she could trust him. Perhaps he was innocent in all this, and she could trust him to break the engagement without scandal or conflict once proof of his cousin’s treachery was unveiled. Or perhaps he’d orchestrated the whole affair, and they would end up with a civil war before the decade was out. Nesta hated herself for her selfishness, but what she feared more than war was marrying Adan, whether he was guilty or not.

Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of Adan’s gaze as he watched her make her way up the aisle towards him, the silk of her gown hissing like a serpent as it dragged on the stone floor. He was smiling, his gaze still soft with reverence , but she could see the eagerness as well—the desire to possess that ran deep in the Illyrian male blood.

She would be his.

Perhaps not forever, if things went according to plan, but at least while they were bound by this betrothal, some part of her—of her freedom—would belong to Adan. The thought was enough to make her mouth water with impending bile as she made her way closer.

She could feel Rhysand eying her as she stepped onto the dais, Azriel melting from her side and taking his rightful place at the High Lord’s left. Unable to help herself, she glanced up at Rhysand .He was as resplendent as ever, having donned his crown of ravens’ wings whose glinting gems matched the sparkling in his mesmerizing blue eyes. There was a knowing in his gaze as he studied her, expression neutral but gaze keen.

I am different because I know what you’d be sacrificing,, he’d said to her in Illyria. I know what it is to cede your power, to bed and obey someone who you don’t love.

Is that what this was, a concession? It was hard to let herself believe so, especially if arrangement turned out to be temporary. Still, some part of her couldn’t deny what she stood to lose.

You’re mine, Adan had told her in the nightmare she’d once had about him. Unless proof of his complicity could be unearthed, he’d been right: she would be his, and it wouldn’t just be for a few months.

It would be for eternity.

Nesta’s pulse had begun to buzz in her ears again as she accepted Adan’s hand, so loud now that she couldn’t hear Rhysand’s words as he addressed the assembly and offered his blessing to the union.

She could do this, Nesta reminded herself as Rhysand wrapped the customary silk around her and Adan’s wrists.

For Feyre, and Elain, and the baby. For peace in the realm and a respite from war and death.

It was the same refrain she’d played for herself the previous day, though it had begun to wear thin as her courage waned at the silk being tightened to signify the bond of the kilhamine.

So she added a final name, one she hadn’t dared to include before, even as it had haunted her every thought.

For Cassian.

For the life they may yet share. Despite the pain the truth had brought, Nesta felt hope—long dormant—swelling in her chest. Cassian was hers and she is, and she would find the truth and set them both free.

Her gaze slid to Lazar over Adan’s shoulder, his smile overripe with self-satisfaction.

Forcing all her remaining steel into her expression, Nesta met his eyes.

You will not win, she vowed to herself. You may be winning now, but I will see you laid low before the end.

She felt an echo of what felt like agreement resonate through her with surprising warmth, and she knew it must have been the bond. She was not alone, she reminded herself as she focused on Adan again. No matter the road she had to travel going forward, no matter how narrow or how steep, Nesta was not alone.

And neither was she powerless.

She was the heir of the dreaded Cauldron and the mate of one of the most powerful Illyrians ever born, and she’d come at last to see justice done. And not Adan, nor Lazar, nor the Mother herself would be able to stop her.

She was Nesta Archeron, acolyte of Death, and she was about to be unleashed.

Next Time on Like a Lonely House…

Lieutenant Na’ahmah stiffened.

“You wish me to betray my prince’s confidence, is that it?”

Rhys shifted in his seat, gaze steady.

“I wish to know where there is cancer in Illyria so that I may cut it out before it spreads. I am not accusing your prince of anything, merely asking the question.”

“You speak of Illyrians as if you are not one of us.”

Rhys shrugged.

“I am only half-Illyrian, and I have faced my fair share of prejudice for that fact. You will forgive me if I lack your ardent patriotism, admirable though it may be.”

A muscle feathered in the lieutenant’s jaw, but she otherwise remained silent.

“Have you something to add, Na’ahmah?’

She shifted on her feet, wings rustling.

“May I speak freely, My Lord?”

Rhys’s eyebrows rose.

“Of course. Always.”

Na’ahmah nodded, glancing down at her polished boots as if to compose herself before looking Rhys straight in the eyes.

“Also long as you consider Illyria to be brutal and backwards, it will be. And every time you treat us like savages, you support those who seek to uphold the old ways and silence those who would see things change. Adan is a bright light after centuries of darkness, and he would sooner destroy himself than see Illyria harmed.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

If you’d like to be tagged, please comment below. As always, I look forward to hearing what you think! Love you all, and stay safe 💗

POST SCRIPT: I don’t often include links to the clothing or character references I use because I think it undercuts my story-telling ability if I simply post links to the things I describe. HOWEVER, the reference for the headdress Nesta wears is SO divine you simply have to see it, so click the link to see this gorgeous kinaree headdress with macaw feathers from a vendor called SerpentFeathers. You will not be disappointed.

TAG LIST: @mydarlingrhys @flourishandblottsx @empress-ofbloodshed @santas-dwynwen @katexrenee @verifiefangirl @urbisie @nalgenewhore @mariamuses @moonbeammadness @rhysanoodle @lady-therion @julesherondalex @kingdomofbrokenhearts @faequeenaelin @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @missing-merlin @maastrash @tswaney17 @keshavomit @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @fourshizzle149 @randomtogacotar22 @azrielismycinnamonrollprimary @dreamerforever-5 @girlreadingaboveherlevel @twlightscourt @wraithsmercy @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @sezkins79 @mightymorphingayagenda @iwishistayedd @kamustyles @donnarosemary @tinylittlebluebird @cutie-bug @fucking-winchester-trash @tea-drinker25 @wolffrising @dreamsofg0ld @sunsummoner @goths-eat-electricity @snoobolit271 @highlordrhysie @aelinfeyreisa @easkyrah @nessian-girl @goldbooksblack @hellas-himself @abillionlittlepieces @togreblog @marnz @shadowsofthenightcourt @brittpetersen @chocolateserialkiller @overgrown-bat @illyrianbeauty @elaiassian @xxrattlethestarsxx @mis-lil-red @kamustyles @cinemaaddict @nesta-cassian-love @izou1204 @a-august-t @umbrellabrass @thatsubtleblush @moids @theogvodkaaunt @theminorfallandthemajorlift @lord-douglas-the-third @booksstorm @jessicawooten @b00kworm @tothbalintkoka @astreia-oniria @lordof-bloodshed @

#nessian #cassian x nesta #acotar #nesta x cassian #nessian angst #featherywrites

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bilgibirikim · 4 years ago

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Fuar Standı Nedir, Nasıl Türleri Mevcuttur?

Gelişen yaşam koşulları ile birlikte toplusallaşma giderek artmaktadır. Bu da topluluk fikrini ortaya koyar. Bu bağlamda ortaya bazı fikirler atılır. İnsanların toplu olarak katılacakları fuarları gün yüzüne çıkarır. Fuarlar için stand tasarımı yapmak da iyi bir iş kapısı olarak yer bulur. Sürekli olarak stand tasarımı yapan firmalardan güvenle stand temin edilebilir. Firma kaliteli bir iş çıkardığında fuarın veriminin kat be kat artacağı bilinmelidir.

Fuar Standı Nedir?

Fuar standı, gelişen eğitim seviyesi ile birlikte ortaya çıkan bir gereksinimdir. Kültürlü ve okuma oranı yüksek toplumlarda daha çok rağbet görmektedir. Yapılacak olan fuarın amacına yönelik olarak en hızlı, en kaliteli ve estetik çözümler sunmayı vaat eden fuar standı en işlevsel olandır. Bu açıdan talebinize yanıt veren ve sizi çözüme ulaştıracak olan firma ile el sıkışmalısınız.

Fuar Standı Tasarımları Nasıl Olmalıdır?

En uygun fuar stand yapılacak olan fuarın amacına uygun, görsel açıdan zengin, geniş ürün yelpazesine sahip, çok yönlü ve dinamik bir sistem üzerine temellenmelidir. Ziyaretçilerin olumlu izlenim edinmesine yardımcı olacak ve pozitif bir yapıyla fuarı sarıp sarmalayacak olan stand en değerli olandır. Bu nedenle stand seçimi yaparken tercihinizi sistemli ve disiplinli firmalardan yana kullanmalısınız.

Fuar Stand Türleri Nasıldır?

Oldukça fazla fuar stand türü mevcuttur. Reklam ve tanıtım alanında işlevsel olan stantlar markanızı tanıtmanıza ya da ürün yerleştirme yoluyla siteniz için gelir çıtasını yükseltmenize olanak tanır. Renkli ve ışıklı stantların yanı sıra; hareketli, resimli, parlak malzemeden üretilen fuar stantları da mevuttur. Ayrıca fuarın amacına yönelik olarak çeşitli özellikler de barındırır. Tercihe göre müzikli, gölgeli, büyük ya da küçük ebada sahip stantlar da yapılabilmektedir. Klasik ve özel stand olmak üzere iki farklı şekilde karşımıza çıkmaktadır. Klasik stantlar hazır ölçülerle yapılan fuar stantlarını kapsarken özel stantlar talebe yönelik olarak dizayn edilen ve esnek çizgiler barındıran stantları kapsamaktadır. Satın alabilir ya da dilediğiniz firmadan fuar standı kiralayarak talebinizi dile getirip gönül rahatlığıyla kullanabilirsiniz. Ayrıca firmanızın içeriğine ve fuarın kapsamına göre standı temin ettiğiniz firmadan fuar mankeni talebinde de bulunabilir ve ürününüzün daha çok akılda kalmasını sağlayabilirsiniz.

Kaynak:https://www.monotasarim.com/

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littlefrenchfryesblog · 5 years ago

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Visitor Students (Part 2)

Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader

Characters: Jacob Frye, Evie Frye, Ethan Frye, Henry Green, Arbaaz Mir, Kaur Pyara, Ezio Auditore, Maria Auditore, Claudia Auditore, Mario Auditore, Arno Dorian, Elise De La Serre, Edward Kenway, Connor Kenway

Modern AU

Summary: The reader lives in Turkey (The reason I choose this country because I want the reader to talks a language that none of the characters can speak or understand.) And the characters visited the school, that reader studies. The reader studies in one of the most successful schools in Istanbul. Reader and reader's friends have talents just like Assassins. The reader meets with visitor students. But the thing she didn’t know is the reader’s dad is the friend of Ethan Frye.

Note: (T/I/Y/W/T/P) = The Instrument You Want To Play

(Y/N) = Your Name

(L/N) = Last Name

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From now on I will have some songs to you guys to read my stories with!! So, can you open the song from One Direction - Story Of My Life Luv You All!!

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(Y/N)'s POV

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We continue to talk with Jacob when I told him how many things our teacher can do with a pencil, he just surprised. Because our teachers did not just write with a pencil. They can throw them in air and catch 'em in the same place and they can do that forever. And they are not stopping, not fail, every time. And so many things like that. That conversation starts when Jacob saw in his Twitter a text but it was Turkish so he wants me to translate it, and of course, I said ''Yes'' because how can I say no to his smirk and those hazel eyes of his. I look to the text message, it says ''Avrupa'da avukatlık okuyorum, Galatasaray Lisesi mezunuyum ve önüme geçen her testin tamamını doğru yapabiliyorum, sizin yetenkleriniz nedir?'' I looked to the text message with impressed and Jacob quickly realizes it and said ''What was it, love?'' I said ''Damn, this girl is so successful. It says ''I study to be a lawyer in Europe, I graduated from Galatasaray High school and I could solve any questions that come in front of me. What is your talent guys? And Galatasaray High School is the most successful school in Turkey. If you want to get into that school you should at least get the LGS exam full correct and all of your subjects and exams should be 100 and it means in your education system A+.'' When I told him that he was impressed. And I continued ''So, what is your talent, Jacob Frye?'' And he smirks at me and I felt a heat goes to my cheeks. I hide my cheeks with the sleeve my loose sweater. He looks at me and says with a grin and a smirk ''Well (Y/N) (L/N) I can fight so deadly and I can take aim from so far and I can shoot my target from there.'' He looks at me like he asks me to say him my talent. And I realized he is quite sexy. When I realize it he asks with his low voice ''So, (Y/N) (L/N) what is your special talent?'' I answered him with nervus. ''Well, Jacob Frye I can remember everyone's teacup on an occasion that includes 100 people. And I don't think I have another talent.'' He still looks at me with one of his elbows on the kitchen counter, and he said to me when I just finish my sentence ''Lie. I saw the paintings you do, I heard you memorize everything you see and you prove it in the history class. And I saw your ballet and how you play (T/I/Y/W/T/P) in videos...'' He continued but After my dad calls me, I got the coffees and put them on a tray.

I went to the living room, give everyone coffee. And went back to the kitchen, I found Jacob looking at his phone with worry. He looks like some child on a swing and looks for the sky with worry when it rains.

''What happened? I just went to the living room to bring others coffee.'' He didn't react to me. I go near to him and I saw an emotion like... Like... Heartbreak?

''My ex...'' And I say with ''Oh...'' He continued ''I saw her story on Instagram.'' And he showed me the story for like five seconds ''As I say, she just gets over me...'' and he takes the phone to his direction and I stop him ''No, No, show that again.'' He looks to me with a smirk and gave me his phone. I looked again and I said ''I know this guy.'' I lead the phone between us and said ''Look for the man behind them. And look at the zippo he uses to light his cigarette. It has a Turkish flag on it. And if you look for the view it matches with the Barırköy coast. Wich is not a real coast. Wait, I know here. I was in there!'' And I took my coat from the chair.

''Wait!? What are you doing?'' I shout at him and I say ''If you want to see her, Quick! We don't have any time to waste''

When I saw that he is not making any move, I grabbed his hand and lead him to the outside. First-time my luck smiles to my face and I found a taxi. I told the driver where we should go and he shakes his hand and we start to go.

I looked to Jacob he looks like a villager who saw an alien. I said to him ''What?! Didn't you want this?'' He said when he stands straight. ''No... Well, maybe. But not like that.'' And when he said that we arrived. ''Too late.'' When I look back I saw he didn't move. He looks at me with a smirk and le relaxes more I shout at him ''Okey Mr. Sexy if you want to see her we need to go.'' And I picked his hand and lead him outside. When I lead him outside, he said with a huge, flirty and in my option sexy, smirk that sends a shiver down to my spine ''So, you think I'm sexy?'' I rolled my eyes and say ''Don't you dare start.''

When we arrived, I felt a huge pain in my stomach. And as a normal human, I cry for the pain I felt. And when I almost fell to the ground Jacob pick me and looked me in the eye. ''(Y/N)! Are you okay?!'' I said when I got up. ''Y-Yes, yes. I'm good.''

Shit.

This shouldn't happen here. Like a bad memory, It was two years earlier, my friends turn their back to me. They shoot me behind. And when I was alone at home. All I want is to be free. So I go to the window and I close my eyes then open them again, I thought that look was my last look to the world. The last thought I have was ''When people say you're worthless, that does not mean you are worthless. When people say you're a wrong person, that doesn't mean you're a wrong person. That's just prooves they are just stupid.'' And I jumped. But I didn't think I will live. But when I learned to make a child to me is nearly impossible, I want to die twice. And the doctors said to me ''You jumped to an iron bar. And the iron bar enters your stomach and damage the wall of the womb. So, you have a serious stitch. You shouldn't be in so hot and so cold.'' And if I will be somewhere like that it could bleed. For that, I take some pills to it. But I remember I forgot to take them today.

So, when I got up he was still looking at me so I showed him the girl named Teressa I think ''Look she is there! Let's go!'' And when we go near to them, I felt pain again and I touch the wound. I look to my hand again and when I looked, all I could saw was blood.

I got up and said to Jacob ''I'm in the toilet!''

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Jacob's POV

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(Y/N) wnt to the toilet with panic in her eyes. So I started to look for Teressa. There is a man that looked familiar to me. Of course, That was Trevor, he is one of the popular guys in my old school.

I came closer to them and I start to hear the conversation they have. Trevor said ''I will make you happier than that Jacob. When I get his gang called Rooks, I will win.'' I start to get angry. How could he say something like that? Then they continue to that conversation, some people go to that table too. When I take a closer look I saw my traitor friends. They were the first Rooks and the first friends I have in middle school. The first one I met was Ed, I was best friends with him, then someday Nigel came and when I so busy with making a gang in school, I didn't realize they were hiding secrets from me and after that, they start to talk among themselves. And after all of the time they just... They just... Go...

After like thirty minutes I started to worry about where (Y/N) is. And I looked around for her. When I saw her she saw me too and she smiles at me.

She sat next to me and said with a warm smile ''So, what happened?'' And I look back to the crowd. And back to her. When I saw Teressa and Trevor kissing I just got up from the chair and start to walk over to the table Teressa and others are sitting. But when I feel something on my arm. It wasn't hurting me, when I look for it I saw it.

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(Y/N)'s POV

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I took Jacob's arm and when he looks back at me I saw something at his eyes, a child, broken and crying for help. And I saw it, his soul was wounded.

''Jacob, don't. If you will do that, you won't feel better than before. Believe me, they don't deserve someone perfect like you.'' He looked at me with sad eyes, ''How could you feel sure about that?'' I know that was an S.O.S. came from him, that no one looks for. ''Cause, I see it in your eyes. Let's just get out of here and I promise you we will talk about it.'' He just nodded. And we started to get out of the restaurant.

We walked a little bit and arrived at the rocky place on the coast. I jumped to the rocks and Jacob came behind me. When we sat to rock and look for the sea, I was the first one to talk. ''What happened? I mean when you look to them, you are not looking to them with anger or revenge ''What did they do to you, Jacob?'' He stopped a little bit. I was sure that he remembers the thing or things happened. I was just like a child who waits for her lollipop from her parents. He took a deep breath, ''It was two years ago, I have the most perfect friends around me. Or I was thinking like that. When I started high school, I was the most popular guy at school as usual. Come on, look to this face.'' And he shows me his face, I giggled ''And I planned to start a new gang. I joined all of the sports clubs I could join as possible, that's where I meet with Teressa, but that's another story. I was busy with my gang, and I think I get away from my friends. I still don't know how I didn't I get caught by teachers eye, I think that's Evie's thing. My friends start to ignore me, and '' When he didn't even finish his sentence I continue. ''Let me guess, and they tell you to move on and they finish their friendship with you, you start to feel like you are so weak and you are not enough for their attention. You became a depressive person, sometimes you feel numb and paralyzed. After some time you have new friends around you and you trust them very well. Is this how your story ends?'' His face looks like he was taken aback by my words. He just said ''Exactly.'' But I continued to my sentence I picked his hand and say ''Look, Jacob, people can be blind sometimes. Most of the time they don't see what's in front of them. If you're worried about you're not enough, all I can say to you is ''Enough to who and enough to whom?'' sometimes you see a beautiful person and an ugly person, you can say ''Wow! Look to the girl and look to the man with her he looks like her grandfather.'' and someone can say ''Wow! Look to the man and look to the woman with her. She isn't enough to him.'' so, don't forget, you are soo special, there is no other person like you. That means you don't need to worry about being enough for something or someone, cause you're always enough or more than enough. Ok? And you don't need to worry about the things you have a problem with. You can always come to me. Cause if you can't find a way to get out of them, maybe WE could find a way to get out of them.'' He looked to me with thankful eyes. ''I lived the same things too, so it looks like we share the same fate, Mr. Frye.'' I stood up and told him ''We can go now don't you think. We will have a lot of time to talk, Am I wrong?'' he stood up too and he said ''Oh, yeah lass.'' and he presses a thing in his hand and he moves to left a little bit and shows the car behind him. I ask with shock ''How did you?'' he said ''Oh, I have a lot of surprises.'' And he gave me his hand to help me get out of the rocky area.

When we got in the car, I feel like his eyes always are on me.

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Jacob's POV

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When we were in the car, I couldn't get my eyes off of her. She was the only person who spoke to me like that. She was soo merciful, kind and positive. When I was thinking all of them at the same time, she opened the window and her hair was flowing with the wind and her eyes were closed. I could saw her smile on the wind came to her skin. She was like the stars. She lights more when it gets dark. I could just look at her and see the stars in her. So I wanted to make her close to the atmosphere, where she belongs. I opened the top window. And she quickly looked to it. She said ''Why you didn't tell me you have a top window in the car!?'' I said with the usual smirk on my face ''I said to you love, I'm full of surprises.'' And after that, I saw some drops on the window. When I look up to the sky, I was full of dark clouds and I started to realize the rain was started. The storms are coming. And when I looked to (Y/N), I saw she isn't at the place that she was sitting. And I looked to her legs. I saw she was climbed to the car's seat and she was out of the top window. I said her ''(Y/N)! It's raining! What are you doing!?'' She said back to me ''That's why it's soo fun!'' After those words, I saw her hair was wet, and she smiles the brighter than the sun at the storm. She was different. I felt something. But I didn't care about it. I was busy watching her. She said ''Can you pull over?'' when she sat back to her seat and I closed the top window. I asked her ''Why?'' and she looked to me with naughty eyes and she started to talk ''Just don't think about it! It's my surprise for you.'' and after that, I pull over. And she said ''I knew you like surprises.'' After that, she got out of the car and rut outside with her arms and hands open with a smile on her face. I got out of the car and I yell at her ''(Y/N)! What are you doing?'' when she heard that I yell at her she came back to the car and opened the song ''One Direction - The Story Of My Life '' and she got the voice level as high as possible then she took me from my hands and lead me to the pouring rain. Then she yelled at me ''Thought you were brave to walk under the rain, Mr. Frye'' Then she leave my hands and started to run. I said ''Oh, I am Ms. (L/N).'' and she yelled at me again ''So prove it, Mr. Frye! Catch me if you can!'' After that, I tried to clutch her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Guys let's chance the song to Ruelle - Live Like Legends from here... All right! Let's continue to our story!

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When she was running I heard a voice came from behind when I turned my back I saw a woman with an angelic voice and a long white dress. Then she started to talk ''Hello Jacob Frye, we need to talk.'' I asked her who is she, she answered me with kindness ''I have so many names. But...It was Minerva when I was dead.'' I remembered the name. And she continued ''I learned that you are always praying for Juno to show you what your soulmate is doing.'' I started to feel awkward and a little bit scared ''There is no need to be afraid of. We are not the gods. We are just the ones that came before. I just want to know why you are caring so much about your soulmate.'' I answered her ''I just want to know who she is.'' and she continued ''I know you are so connected to her even now but I think I could help you more than Juno and when you need to make a choice I need you to promise me, child, that you won't release her.'' and I was so excited and I promised her I won't release her. and she contınued to talk ''All I can tell you is you are so close to being with her. Goodbye, my child, we will talk again soon.'' And then she disappeared. I turned to real-life when I heard (Y/N) called me. ''Jacob? Are you okay?'' And she came more near to me. When she was trying to hold my shoulder I caught her and swing her around. When I sat her to the ground she giggled at me and she said ''No! That's not fair!'' and I catch her once again and said ''Oh, isn't is fair, love?'' And after that so many times and rouns of running and catching. When I tried to catch her again she stopped and I jumped to her back ''Gotchya!'' she put his finger to my mouth and continued to talk '' Yes, of course, dad. We are on our way! Bye!'' she looked back to me and giggled ''Your face is so funny right now cause, you realize my dad was on the phone'' and I answered her with a smirk on my face ''Oh is it?'' and I catch her again and raise her to the air. And she said ''Why we don't take photos?'' and we started to take photos. And when we went back to the car we looked at the photos and send them to each other.

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(Y/N)'s POV

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And we arrive back home with all of our wet hair and clothes we went to our rooms secretly. I told him that I will take a quick shower and I make a beeline to the bathroom. When the hot water hit my shoulder I was soo relaxed by the feeling. And my brain went back to Jacob again and again. I still don't know why I feel so attached to him but I thought that's because we lived the same things, the same infidelities, same problems. When I was thinking those things I got out of the shower and quickly changed my clothes. I wished everyone a good night and I pulled over by Evie and I told her everything we do, not the special parts, of course, and she told me that there is a very good harmony between us and she told me to be careful about her stupid twin, and after a little chit chat with Evie I went back to my room.

When I was nearly sleeping, I heard Jacob's voice that calling me. I opened my eyes and ''Jacob? Why aren't you sleeping?'' and he answered me with puppy eyes ''(Y/N) I can't sleep. Can I sleep with you cause Evie sleeps with Henry my dad is in another room and I have a problem with sleeping in a place that is new for me?'' When I saw nervous in his eyes I said ''Of course Jacob, you can sleep with me. That's not a problem.'' and I made a space for him to sleep and when he sleeps next to me, his face was full of peace.

I woke up again at 4 a.m. and I found Jacob sleeping on my chest and my hand was on his hair. And I use the opportunity of playing with his soft chocolate brown hair. When I was nearly sleeping I heard a whisper came from him ''Thank you (Y/N), sweet dreams.'' And I leave myself to the arms of sleep.

@sassenach-on-the-rocks

#jacob frye x reader #part 2 #assassinscreed #assassins x reader #fanfic #music and writing #music and reading #modern au #assassin s creed syndicate #My AC Writings #jacob frye #assassins creed #assassins creed syndicate #evie frye x reader #elise de la serre #evie frye #assassin's creed #assassin's creed syndicate

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smellslikepetrikor · 5 years ago

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X - Men Evreni ve Deadpool

Spoiler içerir.

Öncelikle söylemem gerekiyor ki X men, Wolverine ve Deadpool’ un yaratıcılarından MCU gibi bir evren beklemeyiniz. Evet gerçekten karışık da olsa çok ama çok keyif aldığım bir seri izledim. X-Men, Wolverine ve Deadpool çizgi romanlarda iç içe geçmiş (Avengersla bile) bir oluşum. Her film kendine göre yorumlamaya değer nitelikteydi, bu yüzden tek tek yorumladım ve kendimce açıklama yapmaya çalıştım.

Film serisi ile ilgili not : yayın sırasına göre de izlesem gayet güzel olurmuş

X-Men First Class (2011) 🌟 4/5

Karakterlerin temelini gördüğümüz her şeyin nasıl başladığını anlatan kaliteli bir filmdi. İleri ki filmlerde her bir bölümde Charles ve Erik in nasıl bu noktalara geldiğini görecektik. Henüz tanımasak da Charles her zamanki gibi sakin soğutucu, Erik ise kaos yaratan ateş gibi bir karakterdi. Mistik ve Charles’ ın güzel ve kopmaz bağı, daha sonra göreceğimiz Charles x Erik bağının temelleri gerçekten çok güzel işlenmişti. (Bu yorumları filmlerin içinde geçtiği yıl sırasına göre yaptığımı unutmayın, normalde yaşlı Profesör X ve Magneto’ yu tanımamız gerekiyordu.Seriye 10 sene sonra başlamanın yan etikeleri)

X-Men Origins: Wolwerine (2009) 🌟4,5/5

Çok güzeldi. Wolverin karakteri ile herkes gibi 2000 yapımı olan X-Men filmi ile tanışmadan da onu çok sevdim çok sevilebilir kaliteli karaktere sahip olan bir adam. Onun çocukluğunu ve geçmişini görmek onun bugününü anlamak için gerekliydi. İzlemesi keyifli ve akıcıydı. Ayrıca Deadpool nasıl o halden bildiğimiz son haline gelecek merak ettirdi.

X-Men (2000) 🌟 3.5/5

Film bir çıkış filmi için gayet güzeldi. Ben şu an kronolojik sıraya göre izlesem de her zaman seyircinin ilk karşılaştığı X-Men filminin bu olduğunu aklımda tuttum. Matrix tadında görsel efektleri vardı, beğendim 2000 senesi için başarılıydı. Daha önceden izlediğim ve aslında seneye göre sonra yazılmış olan filmlerle 1-2 ayrıntı örtüşmüyordu.( Profesör X’ in sinyal engelleyici kasktan haberi olmaması ama ilk filmde bunu görmesi gibi, ayrıca 2. Filmde Prof. X’ in yürümesi ama X-Men de sandalyede olması gibi.) Buna zaman akışları mı neden olacak henüz bilmiyorum ama seri bir sonraki filmi heyecanla izlettiriyor ve beklettiriyor.

X2 (2003) 🌟 5/5

Kurgu ve karakterler oturmuş, artık ait olduğumuzu hissettiğimiz bir evrende bize hikaye anlatılmıştı. Gerçekten bu bölümü çok beğendim. Yine de bu filmler ilk izlediğim 2 filmden önce çekildiği için bana mantıklı gelmeyen noktalar oluyor. Örneğin Mystique’in Charles ile çocukluk arkadaşı olması fakat onu ölüme bırakması gibi. Yine de çok akıcı hem aksiyon hem de kurgu içeren çok güzel bir filmdi. Bu evren ve bu karakterler hakkında öğrenecek çok şey var bunu her yeni bölümde anlıyoruz. Ayrıca film boyunca afişlerin ne kadar kötü ama filmin ne kadar güzel olduğunu düşündüm. Küçük bir ayrıntı ama cidden o afişler nedir ya?

X-Men: the Last Stand (2006) 🌟 2/5

Dark Phoenix’i gördüğümüz ilk film. Serinin en kötü filmi diyebilirim. Bir saniyesinde bile etkilenmediğim, en iyi olması gereken sahnelerde tüylerimi diken diken edemeyen bir film. (Genelde güzel sahnelerde özellikle müzik desteği de varsa tüylerim diken diken olur👍🏻 ) Geçiş ve gişe filmi gibiydi evrene ve hikayeye ne katkısı oldu bilmiyorum tüm anahtar karakterler öldü. Gerçekten bu filme sinirliyim.

The Wolverine (2013) 🌟 3/5

Açarken Japonya’da geçtiğini öğrenince baya ilgimi çeken filmdir. İlk olarak seriye Prof. X ve Magneto nun gençliği ile başladığım için Wolverine ne kadar harika olsa da gözüm ve gönlüm hep genç Charles’ı arıyor.İyilik yap denize at demişler. Bir adama bu kadar da yüklenilmez. Bu adam size ne yaptı? Hayatını kurtardı sadece. Deli Japon adam. Gerçekten içim acıdı malum sahnelerde 🔪İlk 1 saat çok sarmasa da sonradan çok fena açıldı film. Jean seni gerçekten sevmiyorum özellikle Dark Phoenix olup Wolverine öldükten sonra bile kabuslarla işkence ettiğin için iğrenç birisin. Bu bölüm seriden ayrı ve gereksiz gibi gelse de ölümsüzlükle lanetlenmiş (!) olan Logan’ın aslında yaşamak istediğini fark ettiği, kendisi ile yüzleştiği bir bölümdü. Buna sevindim çünkü bu hesaplaşmanın yapılması gerekiyordu.

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) 🌟 5/5

Bana göre serinin en güzel filmiydi diyebilirim. Gerek MCU’da olsun gerek Doctor Who’da, gerek ise X-Men’de zaman yolculuğu her zaman favori konumdur. Her bir filmin bunu işleyiş şekli farklı. Bu filmde farklı bir paralel evren yaratıldığını görüyoruz. Bu da şimdiye kadar olanların olmadığını / olmayacağını gösteriyor. Onun yerine artık seri kaybettiği şeyleri geri kazanarak devam edebilir.Bunun dışında filmin sinematografisini, renklerini ve dinamiğini çok ama çok beğendim. 1973′ de geçen harika bir hikaye tam olarak olması gerektiği gibiydi her şey. Ne eksik ne fazla. Genç Charles ve Erik’i yeniden görebilme; üstelik Wolverin ile görebilme şansımız olduğu için çok mutluyum. Bana göre serinin en kilit ve en güzel filmi buydu. İyi seyirler.

X-Men : Apocalypse (2016) 🌟3.5/5

Serinin en güzel filmlerinden birisi. Erik yani Magneto’nun güçlerine daha derin bir bakış yaptık. Biliyorum bu hikaye çoğu orijinal karakterin character developmant yani karakter gelişimini görmemiz için harika bir fırsat olmuş. Jean, Scoot, Storm herkes çok genç. Erik, Mystique ve diğerleri içinse iyi olmayı isteseler bile dünyanın onlara izin vermemesini görüyoruz biraz da. Bana göre serideki güçleri açısından en şanslı kişi Profesör X. Erik gibi tüm bunlardan uzaklaşıp kendine bir aile kurup sonra yine kötülüğe zorlanmadı. Erik’in bu bölümde yaşadıklarını Tony’nin Endgame’de yaşadıklarına benzettim. Güçlü adamların büyük hassas noktaları olabiliyor.Quicksilver’ın sahneleri her zamanki gibi harikaydı. Onun hakkında bir sürü şey biliyorum ;)

Wolverine ve Jean in birbirini tanımadan kurtarması da çok güzel tatlı bir ayrıntıydı. Her şey baştan başladığı için olanları sadece Wolverine hatırlıyor ama onun da hafızası silinmiş. Başka bir paralel evrende aşık olduğu kadınla burada tanımıyor olması fanlara acı veren fakat çok güzel bir sahne olmuş.İlk iki filmde gördüğümüz Mystique karakterini canlandıran oyuncuya nazaran kadro değişmiş ve Jennifer Law yerine geçmiş. Onun sinematografik anlamda bu karaktere çok daha fazla şey kattığını söyleyebiliriz. Tüm karakterlerden bahsetmememin sebebi yazının gittikçe uzamasından kaçınmam fakat her bir mutantın performansını ve güçlerini sevdim.James Mcavoy’un yanında çoğu kişinin performansının çok kötü olması peki... özellikle etkileyici Dark Phoenix olması gereken Sophie Turner. Onu solo filminde daha iyi bir performansla bekliyorum. (Olmadı)

Dark phoenix (2019) 🌟 2/5

The Days of Future Past’de gördüğümüz üzere 1973′den sonra yaşanan her şey başka bir gerçeklikte kalmıştı. Bu gerçeklikte Jean Dark Phoenix güçlerine çok daha erken yaşta ulaşacak gibi görünüyor. Ayrıca onun ailesinden alınmasını da farklı bir şekilde işlemişler; sonuçta paralel bir evren.Mystique’ in kostümü/ makyajı yıl geçtikçe kötüleşmiş ve çizgi romandan uzaklaşmış. Sophie Turner’ın oyunculuğu Game of Thrones’da nasıldı bilmiyorum ama bu filme popüler olduğu için kdroya alınmış bence çünkü oyunculuğu rezalet gerçekten. Ne normal sahnelerde ne de fantastik sahnelerde iyi iş çıkarıyor hiç bir duygu aktarımı alamıyorum.Normalde X-Men filmlerini bitirince içimde bir heyecan bir kıpırtı olurdu. Böyle bitmesi evet güzel oldu ama filmin senaryosunu hiç bir şeyini beğenmedim. Belki de kafamızda yarattığımız karakter imajlarını değiştirerek bizi şaşırtmak istediler ama serinin en kötü filmlerinden birisiydi.Ama öğrendiğime göre seri burada bitmiyormuş aksine MCU ile birleşecekmiş. Eğer bu doğruysa tadında bitti diyebiliriz. Bu film de MCU filmleri gibi neden sonuç ilişkisi yaratmak için köprü kuran bir film olacaktır ki bu mantıklı ve güzel olur.

Deadpool (2016)

Deadpool’u bu versiyonu ile kabul etmemiz ve daha önceki yıllarda Wolverine filminde görünen halini unutmamız zaten daha önce Ryan Reynolds tarafından bize söylenmişti.Film biraz yetişkin içerikli fakat gayet espirili ve güzel. Bunlar zaten herkes tarafından bilinen özellikleri. Deadpool henüz bir sinematik Evrene bağlayıcı olarak tam anlamıyla bağlanmadığı için filmi ayrı olarak izlemek ve keyif almak mümkün. 4/5

Logan (2017) 🌟 5/5 <3 :)

İlk 15 dakikada bile beni duygu seline sürükleyen bir film. Logan ve Charles’ı böyle görmek gerçekten küçük kalbimi kırdı diyebilirim. Son derece gerçekçi, insanın içine dokunan bir film olmuş. Filmde son 25 senedir bir tane bile mutant doğmadığını ve X-Men’den herkesin öldüğünü duyuyoruz. Logan’ın kızını oynayan küçük oyuncuya hakkı vermem gerek Dark Phoenix’deki Sophie Turner dan daha güzel oynamış. Hatta yetişkin bir oyuncu gibi kabiliyetli ve yetenekli. Yardım ettikleri aile ile yemek masasında otururken yüzlerinde sonunda bir gülümseme belirmesi, Laura’nın belki de ilk kez gülmesi...

Logan hayatı boyunca acıdan başka bir şey görmemiş bir adam ama yine de hep iyi kalmaya çalıştı. Sonradan öğrendik ki Profesör X’in beynindeki hastalık 1 sene önce bir kazaya sebep olmuş ve X-Men’den geriye kalan herkes ölmüş. Logan hariç. Logan Charles’a, bir zamanlar Charles’ın ona baktığı gibi bakıyor şimdi. Logan bu uzun hayatında çok yorulmuş olmalı. Bir kaç kez kaçıp sakin bir hayat yaşamak, aşık olmak istemişse de buna hiç izin vermediler. Oysa o şefkatli bir adam. Film 2030 da geçmesine rağmen mp3 den müzik dinleyen çocuk dikkatimi çekti. X-Men filmlerinde hep nostaljik bir hava var. Belki de kendime bir müzik çalar almalıyım.

Filmi izlerken o kadar çok inandım ki birkaç kez kendime bunun sadece oyunculuk olduğunu hatırlatmam gerekti. Hugh Jackman sen gerçekten bambaşkasın. Harika bir filmdi gerçekten Logan’ı öldürebilecek tek şey kendisi bence burada buna da metaforik bir şekilde değinilmiş. İzlenmesi gereken fakat filmden %100 keyif almak için seriyi izlemenizi tavsiye ederim yoksa bi’ halt anlamayacağınız dümdüz aksiyon filmi gibi olur.

Deadpool 2 (2018)

Filmin çoğu kısmı 2020 duyarlardı ve gerçekten çok sıkıcıydı. Ama Cable gelince adamla uğraşmaya başladıkları için çok eğlenceli oldu. Filmin sürekli ırkçı değiliz deyip ırkçı şakalar yapması, feministlik deyip cinsel şakalar yapması da aslında ironik ve sarkastik. Sevdim. Cable’ı oynayan adam Endgame’den Thanos, bunu fark ettiğimde çok daha eğlenceli bulmaya başladım. Deadpool 2 de X-Men evinde bir sahnede herkesin hayatta ve yaşıyor olduğunu görüyoruz ama Wolverine’in öldüğünü söylüyor. Bu nasıl bir zaman paradoksu ya da paralel evren özelliği bilmiyorum ama gelecek filmlerde öğreneceğiz sanırım. Fakt öğrendiğime göre Deadpool çizgi romanlarda öyle bir karakter ki onu neredeyse her zaman ve herkesle görebilirmişiz, yani en iyisinin kafaya takmamak olduğunu ve filmden zevk almak olduğunu söylüyorlar. Zaten Deadpool karakteri sık sık 4. duvarı yıkarak bizimle konuşuyor ve olaylara seyirci gözünden bakıyor. Filmdeki en iyi karakter Hintli Taksici. Seri katil olmayan isteyen “çubuk kreker kollu” birisi. Gerçekten harika bir karakter, kahkaha attım. Filmde o kadar çok Marvel, X-Men ve Avengers göndermesi var ki Deadpool’u gelecek Avengers filmlerinde hayal etmeden duramıyorum. Resmen fanboy. İlk filmnden sonra hayal kırıklığı olsa da sevdiğimiz Wade Wilson için izlenebilir. Yine de fazla beklenti olmadan gidilmesi en iyisidir.

Son Küçük Not

(Filmin oldukça karışık bir zaman çizgisi var ama X-Men Timeline olarak araştırırsanız bulabilirsiniz.)

2016 yapımı Logan filmi harika bir son olmuş, bunun yerine Dark Phoenix ile final yapmaları vuruculuğu azaltmış gibi görünüyor. Hugh Jackman artık filmlerini çekerken aynı heyecanı hissetmediği için seriyi bırakma kararı almış. (Rober Downey Jr. <3 gibi) Yine de bu adamları suçlaymayız. İkisi de harika birer filmle bize veda ettiler. Hiç bir MARVEL karakterini Tony Stark kadar sevemem sanmıştım ama Wolverin ve Iron Man benim için artık eşitler. Ayrıca çok da benziyorlar. Bu iki adam bu çizgi-romanların başına gelmiş en iyi 2 şey olabilir!

X-Men serisi her ne kadar harika olmasa da tanıyıp sevebileceğiniz harika karakterler ve izleyebileceğiniz o kadar çok güzel sahne var ki izlememekle EVET BİR ŞEYLER KAÇIRIRSINIZ. Son olarak bulaya tatlı bebeğimi bırakıyorum ve bir sonraki yorumda görüşmek üzere diyorum.

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gulindede · 5 years ago

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PART1:

İlk bölümde son yıllarda Almanya’da devam ettirdiği tiyatro hayatını ve Avrupa’daki tiyatro hayatının Türkiye’ye yansımasını konuştuk. İkinci bölümde ise cinsiyet kimliklerinin tiyatrodaki yeri, LGBTİQ+ ve kadın oyunlarını masaya yatırdık.

Gülin: Yaklaşık üç-dört senedir Almanya ile ilişki içerisindesin. Birkaç oyunun da sahnelendi hatta…

Ebru: Evet, Türkiye’deki ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ oyunu orada ‘Last Park Standing’ olarak sahneleniyor şu anda.

Gülin: Almanya’ya, Berlin’e geçiş sürecin nasıl oldu?

Ebru: Gorki Theatre’ın bir projesiydi aslında ilk dahil olduğum. Dünya çapında dört ayrı ülkeden, sonra şehir dediler ona, hatta o tartışmalar da enteresan bir şekilde ilerledi. Türkiye’den Ebru yerine İstanbul’dan Ebru, İsrail’den Sivan yerine Tel Aviv’den Sivan gibi... O jargonların, tartışmaların içinde olmak da enteresan oluyor. Dolayısıyla dört oyun yazarı seçilmişti, Türkiye’den de beni davet etmişlerdi. Normalde böyle projelere biraz mesafeli bakıyorum. Çünkü ‘proje proje’ olan işler senin özgünlüğünden ziyade senden talep ettikleri üzerinden gidiyor. Yani ben de ilk başta mesafeliydim. ‘Nedir, ne değildir?’ diye düşündüm. Fakat projeyi çok güzel bir şekilde çerçevelendirmişlerdi. ‘Parça Parça Savaş’tı projenin adı. Dediler ki; “Savaş senin için neyse sen tanımlayacaksın.” Bana çok iyi geldi. Çünkü benim için savaş, o dönemde özellikle üzerine düşündüğüm şeylerden biri, bir bedenin nerede özgürce salınabildiği ve nerede özgürce salınamadığı üzerineydi. Ve benim için de şahsi savaşım, kendi bedenimin Türkiye’de nasıl bir mücadele içinde olduğunu düşünmek için iyi bir fırsat oldu. Hem bir kadın bedeni olarak hem de farklı bir cinsiyet kimliğine sahip biri olarak nasıl bakılıyor, o bakışlar nerede neye tekabül ediyor, günlük hayatta nasıl bir ‘savaş veriyorsun’, kendi kimliğini ortaya koyabilmek için… Bunun iyi bir fırsat olduğunu düşündüm. Öyle girdim projeye. Proje iki yıl sürdü. Belli aralıklarla Almanya’ya gidip bir araya geldik. Her seferinde oturup oyunu yazıyorduk. Dört oyun yazarı birbirimizin oyununu okuyup değerlendiriyorduk. Sonuçta da ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ çıktı ortaya. Türkiye’de de prodüksiyonu yapıldı. Hala Toy İstanbul’da oynuyor. İlk okuması Berlin Gorki Theatre’da yapıldı. Hatta ilk okuması şu anda prodüksiyonu yapan Stuttgart Şehir Tiyatrosu’nda olmuştu. Orada çok güzel bir karşılık buldu oyun. Hem eleştirmenlerden hem seyircilerden çok iyi dönüşler aldı.

Gülin: Alman oyuncular ve Alman bir yönetmenle mi çalışıldı orada?

Ebru: Alman ne kadar Alman... Orada artık Alman demiyorlar. Her iki oyunun da Gorki’deki ve şu anda Stuttgat’ta oynayan oyunun yönetmenleri aslında Türkiye kökenli. Berlin’deki Hakan Savaş Mican’dı. Stuttgart’taki de Nuran David Çalış. Ancak Nuran David Çalış ile Türkçeden çok İngilizce konuşuyoruz. Nuran’ın Türkiye ile neredeyse hiç bağlantısı yok. Ama annesiyle eski Türkçe konuşuyoruz. Annesi Türkiyeli bir Ermeni. Daha geç Almanya’ya gitmiş, Nuran orada doğmuş. Oyuncular ise ağırlıklı olarak Almanya’da doğmuş, yaşayan ve çalışan oyuncular her iki oyunda da. Sonra oyun çok ilgi görünce diğer oyunlarımı da merak ettiler ve Fischer Verlag, Almanya’nın en önemli yayınevlerinden biri, onların dikkatini çekti ve dediler ki, “Biz bu oyun da dahil olmak üzere senin bütün oyunlarının temsilciliğini almak istiyoruz.” Ben de kabul ettim. Şu anda bütün haklarım Almanca konuşulan ülkelerde onlarda. Dolayısıyla oradaki yolculuk devam diyor. Bu sene Berlin’de yeni bir ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ prodüksiyonu olur mu olmaz mı diye konuşuyoruz. Dolayısıyla Almanya serüveni böyle başladı ve devam ediyor.

Gülin: Orada olmakla burada olmak... Aynı metni farklı iki ülkede sahneliyorsunuz. Metin özelinde de konuşabiliriz ama onun dışında iki ülke arasında tiyatroya dair kültür farkı, eğitim farkı var mı, yok mu? Bu açılardan da derinleştirebilir miyiz?

Ebru: Şöyle bir şey var tabii ki, ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ Almanya’dan bir kadınla Türkiye’den bir kadının aşkı ve arka planda Türkiye’nin beş yıllık serüveni var. Bunun çerçevesinde bir oyun. Sorduğu soruları gitmek mi kalmak mı ya da aşkın devrimi üzerinden de şekillendirebiliriz. Veya arkadaşa sadakat mi yoksa davaya sadakat mi? Tabii burayla orası arasında en büyük fark şu; burada, buranın içerisinden çıkan bir oyun olduğu için seyircinin kurduğu mesafe ve alaka farklı. Almanya’da bu oyuna ve bu konulara duyulan ilgi, bağlam farklı. Dolayısıyla sorular ve oyunla ilişkilenme biçimi farklı oluyor. Bu bir yazar olarak beni çok güçlendiren bir şey her şeyden önce. Çünkü farklı farklı tepkileri alıyorum. Fakat insanların hikâyeye, herhangi bir hikâyeye karşı gösterdiği ilgi çok benzer. Kim bu insanlar, niye böyleler, soruları çok merkezde. Ama biz burada o beş yılı yaşadığımız ve tecrübe ettiğimiz için seyirci çok güçlü bir duygusal bağ kuruyor. Almanya’daysa daha dışarıdan, ne olup bittiğini anlamaya çalışan bir ilgi alaka kuruluyor. Yönetmenlerin ele alış biçimleri de farklı. Nuran David’in ele aldığı yer daha, dışarıdan bakıyor gibi ama aynı zamanda anlamak için çok arzuluydu ne olup bittiğini. Her fırsatı değerlendirdi. Oynayacak oyuncu daha önce hiç Türkiye’ye gelmemesine rağmen tiyatro onu Türkiye’ye gönderdi. Çok daha derinleştiler bu konu üzerine. En basitinden şöyle bir fark var. Ben her şeyi sayılarla konuşmayı seviyorum. Bir şeyi ortaya koymak açısından önemli oluyor. Bu oyunun Almanya’daki prodüksiyonunda çalışan oyuncu sayısı otuz yedi. Türkiye’de çalışan kişi sayısı on altı, on yediyi geçmez. Sürekli kadrosuna baktığımızda da o kadar bir fark olacaktır. Sürekli kadrodan kastım da ışık, müzik vs. Çünkü tasarımı yapanla uygulayıcısı farklı vs. Dolayısıyla insan gücü anlamında bir fark oluyor. Perspektif de farklı. Türkiye’den bir yönetmenin ele alış biçimi ile Almanya’dan birinin ele alış biçimi farklı. Sami (Berat Marçalı) biraz daha aşk üzerine gitmek istedi. Nuran ise daha politik kondisyonlar üzerine…

Gülin: Burada bazı şeylere biraz doymuş olabilir miyiz? Onun da etkisi olabilir mi?

Ebru: Bilemiyorum. Politikanın çok içindeydik ve herkesin kendi hikâyesi var bu beş yıla dair.

Gülin: Sahnede izlediğimiz, senin yazdığın hikâyen de aslında kendi hikâyemiz gibi ya da yanımızdaki birinin hikâyesi gibi.

Ebru: Evet, bir yerinden mutlaka değiyor. Almanya için aynı şeyi söylemek çok mümkün değil. Yönetmenler için de geçerli bu bağlamda. Ama ben iki prodüksiyonun da birbirinden farklı olarak farklı etki alanları yarattığını düşünüyorum. Burada sağaltma etkisi var. Bir araya gelip, “biz ne yaşadık ya” diyerek üzerinden geçmek… Çünkü yaşadığımız süreçlerin hiçbirinde ne mutluluğun ne de yasın kendi olağan sürecini yaşama şansımız olmadı. Birey olarak yaşamış olabiliriz. Mutluluk anlarımız, yaslarımız kursağımızda kaldı. Tabii ki ateş düştüğü yeri yakıyor. İnsanların yaşadığı acılardan bağımsız söylüyorum. Ama mesela burada sağaltma etkisi yaşarken Almanya’da daha çok belgesel izleyicisi gibi bakıyor seyirci. Yabancı değiller ama Türkiye’de olan bitene. Farklı açılardan onlar da Türkiye’de olan biteni takip ediyorlar. Sadece basından değil, Türkiye’den kitaplar çok çevriliyor.

Gülin: Orada ilişkilendikleri Türkiyeli insan sayısının artmış olmasının da bir payı vardır belki.

Ebru: Hem kişi sayısı arttı hem de çeşitlilik farklılaştı. Altmışlarda giden işçilerle bugün giden beyaz yakalılar, akademisyenler, sanatçılar da bir çeşitlilik katıyor olan bitene. Dolayısıyla Türkiye’ye dair farklı perspektiflerden tartışabiliyorlar. Hatta şöyle söyleyeyim, biz burada kendi halimizi bu kadar farklı perspektiflerden tartışabiliyor muyuz emin değilim. Almanya’da farklı perspektiflerden Türkiye’ye bakışı çok duyuyorum. Orada şöyle bir handikap oluyor, artık dışarı çıkmış olduğumuz için burada gerçekten ne olduğunu çok iyi bilebiliyor muyuz emin değilim. Yazar olarak da bir ikilem yaşıyor insan. Almanya’da olup Türkiye ile ilgili yazmaktansa Türkiye’de olup Türkiye ile ilgili yazmanın beni bir yazar olarak gerçeğe daha sadık tuttuğunu, kendi gerçeğime daha sadık tuttuğunu düşünüyorum. Öbürü, biraz daha mesafeden bakmak da başka bir şeyler getirecektir.

Gülin: Bunda senin toplumsal gerçekçi oyunlar yazıyor olmanın da etkisi olsa gerek.

Ebru: Büyük ihtimalle. Ben yabancısı olduğum ve uzaktan baktığım şeylerin çok fazla tasvirini yapmaktan hoşlanan biri değilim. Babam, “Kızım sana sobaya gitme elini yakar diyoruz, gidip elini sobaya değdirip yakıyor baba diyorsun”, derdi. Biraz öyle bir tavrım var. Deneyimleyip deneyim içinden yazmak bana daha çok uyuyor.

Gülin: En başta bir jargondan bahsettin. Türkiye’deki tiyatroya dair jargonlarını da merak ediyorum. Nasıl bakıyorlar buraya? Bunu bizden çok fazla giden olması konusuna da bağlayabiliriz. Türkiye’de el üstünde tuttuğumuz bağımsız tiyatroların orada da adının duyulduğunu biliyoruz. Tüm bunları harmanladığımızda o jargon evrildi mi?

Ebru: Benim deneyimim üzerinden söyleyebilirim. Ben Stuttgart Şehir Tiyatrosu ile yaşıyorum bu deneyimi çok yakın zamanda. Stuttgartlılarla daha çok iletişim halindeyim. Orada bir çeşit eyalet sistemi var. Berlin ve Stuttgart deneyimi birbirinden çok farklı. Hem oyun bağlamında hem de yazar bağlamında. Jargon bağlamında da çok farklı. Berlin deneyiminde Türkiye’den o kadar farklı ses ve iş görebiliyorsunuz ki. Dolayısıyla Guernica’nın tablosu gibi. Savaşa farklı perspektiflerden bakabiliyorsunuz. Ama Stuttgart için aynı şeyi söylemem çok mümkün değil. Belki ikinci bölümde yapacağımız konuşmaya bir çengel atıp şöyle diyebilirim, toplumsal cinsiyet eşitliği veya çeşitlilik dediğimiz konular bu anlamda da çok önemli oluyor. Stuttgart’ta ikili bir sistem üzerinden bakıldığı için siyah-beyaz, iyi-kötü karşıtlar vs. üçüncü bir dil kurmaya çalıştığınızda, herkes Türkiye’nin belli bir acısının tekrarını bekliyor sizden. Çok acılar çektik, çok sıkıntılar yaşadık, şöyle şöyle şöyle...

Gülin: Acımak mı istiyorlar?

Ebru: Bize acımak istiyorlar vs... O acı hikâyesini devam ettiren yazarlardan biri olmanı bekliyorlar. Alternatif bir hikâye ortaya konulduğunda, senin de içinde olduğun bir örnekten bahsedeyim mesela, Moda’nın ortasında bir grup aile ‘Başka Bir Okul Mümkün’ diyerek bir okul projesini hayata geçirme iradesini gösteriyorlar. Bu hikâyeyi anlattığın zaman alıcısı yok. Çok enteresan.

Gülin: Umut hikâyelerini sevmiyorlar mı buraya dair?

Ebru: Duymak istemiyorlar bunu. Çünkü bu aynı zamanda o perspektiften baktığınızda inanılmaz bir propaganda. Hepimiz propaganda mağduruyuz. Almanya’da iş yapmanın benim hayatıma kazandırdığı en önemli şeylerden biri bu. Ben de propaganda mağduruyum oradaki seyirci de... Kimin propagandası güçlüyse birazcık o alandan kendini sıyırmaya çalıştığın ilk anda hemen seni düşman addediyorlar. Çünkü şöyle bir şey demeye başlıyorsun, yanlış hatırlamıyorsam Descartes’in sözüydü; “Hiç tavuk görmemiş birine tavuk çizdiremezsin.” Benim yapmaya çalıştığım bu. ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ oyununda da yapmaya çalıştığım buydu. ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ Türkiye’nin yaşadığı beş yılı inkâr eden bir oyun değil. Ama onların alışık olduğu dilden anlatan bir oyun da değil. Orada Türkiye’den bir kadın var bütün bu mücadelenin içerisinde kalıp yoluna devam etmeyi seçen biri. Bir taraftan baktığımızda da onların hikâyesine gedik açıyor. Aslında onların hikâyesinde o kadının Almanya’ya gelmesi, ‘özgür Avrupa’da kendisini ifade etmesi gerekli. Bir mücadele dili yaratmaya çalışıyor. Dolayısıyla Türkiye’den geldin bize akıl mı veriyorsun gibi bir durum var. Ne Türkiye’den gelmiş olmak ne de akıl vermek gibi bir niyet yok. Ben kendi hikâyeme sadakat gösteriyorum dediğim zaman da bu hikâye anlatılan bir hikâye değil; çeşitlilik 101’e hoş geldiniz, ne kadar çok hikâye duyarsak Türkiye’ye Almanya’ya dair o kadar iyi. Ben yaptığım röportajlardan birinde Schindler’in Listesi filminin benim için ne kadar önemli olduğunu söylemiştim. Yayınlamadılar bunu. Artı değer yaratan bir yerden söylemiştim. Ben hep şunu sorguluyordum; 2. Dünya Savaşı yaşanırken insanlar hiç mi yardım etmediler Yahudilere? Bu benim zihnimi çok kurcalıyordu. Çünkü iyilik ve kötülük tartışması anlamında önemli bir nokta. Schindler’in Listesi filmi bu insanların da var olduğunu gösteren önemli bir doküman. Birazcık Schindler’in listelerine alan açmamız lazım. ‘Benimle Gelir misin?’ de bu alanı açmaya niyetli oyunlardan biri. Anlatılan iki ana hikâye var. Taraftarlar ve karşıtlar çoklar. Ben bunları reddetmiyorum ama siz de benim hikâyemi reddetmeyin. Çünkü üçüncü, dördüncü, beşinci, altıncı yollar da var. O yüzden biraz zorlanıyorum ama olsun.

Gülin: Türkiye’den, kendilerine sahneleme adına alan bulamadığı için Avrupa’ya gitmeye çalışan ya da gitmiş kişiler var. Bunu biliyoruz. Şunu sormak istiyorum. Oranın varlığı burayı etkiliyor mu?

Ebru: Pozitif değer katıyor bence. Şu yüzden katıyor; bu sınırları da kendi deneyimimde kaldırmaya çalışıyorum. Orası burası diye bir yer yok. Olmaması da gerekiyor. İçinde yaşadığımız dünyada Putin’in, Trump’ın olduğu dünyada ben kendimi Alexander Cortes’le yan yana hissediyorum. ABD’de bir vali ile yan yana hissediyorum. Greta ile aynı nazardan dünyaya bakıyorum. Dolayısıyla kendi yaptığım işe de burada ya da oraya yapıyorum gözüyle bakmıyorum, hele ki söz konusu tiyatroysa.

Gülin: Hoş bir hatırlatma olmayacak belki ama vize alamadığın için gidemediğin zamanların da oluyor. O zamanlarda sınır yüzüne sert bir şekilde çarpıyor muhtemelen. Umut ettiğimiz tabii ki başka, sınırsız bir dünya.

Ebru: Çok sert çarpıyor tabii ki. Ama şunu demek istiyorum. Zihinsel olarak o bariyeri kaldırmak lazım. Sanatını eğer orada yapabiliyorsan, şimdi orada yapıyorsun ve yarın başka yerde yapacaksın diyerek üretmeye devam etmek gerektiğini düşünüyorum. Kültürel birikim böyle olur. Almanya’nın kültürel birikiminin büyük bir kısmı 2. Dünya Savaşı’nda Almanya’nın içerisinde üretilmedi sonuçta.

Gülin: Diğer ekiplerle de bir araya geliyor musunuz? Mirza Metin, Ufuk Tan Altunkaya ilk aklıma gelenler.

Ebru: Birtakım projelerde karşılaşıyoruz. En son Yeşim Özsoy da vardı hatta. Ceren Özcan’ın oyunu Nürnberg’de oynuyor. Arkadaşlarımın isimlerini ve yaptıkları işleri duyuyorum tabii ki. Beraber bir iş üretemedik henüz, aynı anda orada olamadık. Ama bizi aynı projelere koydukları oluyor. Yan yana gelip fikir alışverişinde bulunuyoruz.

Gülin: Burası ya da orası konusunu kafayı takmış genç oyuncular için belki ufuk açıcı bir konuşma olmuştur. Çok teşekkürler.

(İlk bölümün sonu)

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