ELLA PURNELLvia Instagram

ELLA PURNELL via instagram

@feydarling — “ if you die for me i’m gonna be really fucking mad keep your eyes open. ”

"many people strive to die as they lived." nesta's lips spread into a horrific smile, revealing the blood that has bubbled up in her throat and settled between her teeth. she's only vaguely aware of the wet sensation as it dribbles from the corner of her mouth. "...there are worse things to die for."

but she takes a SHUDDERING BREATH - a promise that she has no intention of dying - and fights the heaviness of her eyelids to survey the sky above. it's difficult for her to tell if the illyrians are moving impossibly fast amongst the clouds, or if her vision is simply blurring. "dying for merrill, now that would really piss me off."

@meaercies — ‘you know i love you, right?’

they’ve been sitting in silence for so long that the skies have shifted from a hazy swirl of pinks and purples to an INKY BLACK NIGHT; the two of them as silent as the moon above. as she read her book beneath the faelights, her only reminder that azriel was right beside her had been the warmth from his body, and the occasional touch as they shifted to find more comfort. at some point in the evening she had found their fingers tangled together, and when her book had finally sunk it's teeth into her, she began to swirl gentle patterns against scarred knuckles - the speed of the motions a silent symphony that matched the pace of the plot. nesta had been doing just that when his voice broke the reverie, and his words stilled her hand; stilled her entire being.

“what do you mean, azriel?” she asks him in a measured voice, daring to glance at him. but she knows exactly what it means; feels it too. she also feels nauseas all of a sudden, as her mind travels through all of the moments that have bought them to this one.

“do you ever think about the person you would have become if our mother hadn’t died – if we hadn’t lost our fortune?” it may seem as though nesta is (once again) ignoring the youngest archeron’s words; her pain. she isn’t. despite being all too aware of the hard truths, having them affirmed for her scratches an itch. in the past few months she has been doing much better, but she has also come to the conclusion that she doesn’t want to forget the person she once was. she fears she could just as easily slip back into that role; whether tomorrow or two hundred years down the line. “i've thought about it a lot over the years. you always had more freedom than we did. i would have married a powerful man and become his puppeteer. elain would have married a handsome man, and given him countless, beautiful heirs... but you could have been anything, feyre. you could have honed your craft with renowned artists, travelled the globe with our father, eaten as many delicious foods as you desired. in the end you would have found yourself here, i know that now, but until then you would have been just as special. would have taken interesting lovers, too.” more interesting than the hale boy who had always been so beneath her. 

“it was never you i hated, feyre.” in the depths of her being nesta knows that part of the reason she had resented her youngest sister so is that she had kept her ALIVE when she had lost all interest in being. ultimately, she hadn’t wanted to starve to death - not really. she could have done just that and allowed her sister’s to have satisfying portions each night that they'd had food. but she had seen the reality of families who had wasted away into the winter, and had just enough self-preservation to keep herself from joining them. but it didn’t stop her from being weak in every other sense. knowing that her sister, who had looked so much like her, was far stronger than she could ever hope to be at such a young age had made her CRUEL BEYOND BELIEF. she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself from succumbing to the fury when it etched it’s way into her being. she’d simply taken it out on the wrong person.

“i hated our mother for leaving us before we could find security… our father for giving up. i hated that you had to become that version of yourself. but most of all i hated myself for not being able to do what you could.” she’s thankful that she has been mirroring her sister’s body language all this time, lithe fingers wrap more tightly around the railing as she absorbs the peaceful view. she’s grateful to avoid her sisters' sparkling gaze; can’t bare to see what emotions may be evident on her features. feyre had rarely been able to hide her feelings when they were younger. time in prythian had improved her skills, but they still slipped through in moments when her guard was down. no doubt some form of disgust coloured her features now. 

"unless one of our enemies gets their way, we're going to live for a very long time. i can't let you spend another minute of it believing that i ever hated you..." an unexpected smile graces her lips, and she continues. "except for when you banished me to the house of wind, i did hate you then."

@moondevoured : "we had nothing except each other."

“ that’s not how i remember it. ” i stared ahead, clutching the railing, and struggling to bite back the resentment that ached to pour out of me. i was so tired of fighting. of holding onto any of the bitterness that had festered in my new, immortal heart. all i had ever wanted was my sisters — my family, to see me, to fight for me, as i had always been willing to do for them. that promise i had made to our mother still hung over me even now. to stay together and look after them. but i could still remember the sneers each time i trekked back home through the woods, my knuckles blistered from the cold and scarred by bowstrings, clothes splattered with blood, and hair a matted mess. a wild animal, nesta had declared, barely housebroken. even while that scared and lonely girl still cowered in the corners of my soul.

“ you and elain had each other. i had myself. ” and my paint brushes and glimpses of a starry night to keep me company and give me comfort. even before our mother had died and we had lost everything, my earliest memories still involved me having to fend for myself. left out of the dance lessons and dress shopping nesta and elain seemed to revel in. i had been too strange and restless for our mother to waste her time investing in. i was a bother. an inconvenience that taught herself how to become scarce. “ you never wanted me to tag along anyway. ”

Ella Purnell 🤍✨ insane beauty.

when i make a weird and off putting version of elain it’s over for you bitches x