Nesta Watches Her Friend From The Doorway For A Few Quiet Moments, Marvelling At The Unlikely NEW CARYNTHIAN.

nesta watches her friend from the doorway for a few quiet moments, marvelling at the unlikely NEW CARYNTHIAN. if she hadn’t been blessed enough to witness it with her own eyes, she isn’t certain that she’d be able to believe it. not out of any doubt about gwyn and emerie’s strength, but that she’s lucky enough to call two of the most resilient females she knows her friends. but she is that lucky; luckier still that all of her loved ones are safe. over the course of one of the most hideous days of her life, she has uncovered a secret that she didn’t realise she had kept from herself: that she too is one of the most resilient females she knows.

after months (years) of fighting it, she had found it in herself to plunge into the darkest depths of her power to save the people who mean the most to her… to bring a new one into the world. for the first time in a long while the band around her chest has eased it’s vice like grip on her. nesta pushes herself from the doorframe and into the midnight breeze, not wishing to spend another second alone. gwyn’s greeting brings another smile to her lips, clearing the exhaustion from her features. it hurts her face to beam like this; in the same way days spent fighting to survive have left a dull ache in her muscles. they’re one in the same, so she allows the smile to linger... allows herself to feel happy without hesitation. 

“regardless of if you can forgive me, i'm confident that rhysand can be convinced to keep you well stocked with tea cakes and any other sweet treats you may desire.” a playful glint flickers in silver eyes as she rests beside her friend, thankful for the balcony to carry some of her weight, but her voice is serious when she speaks again. “— it meant more to you... to you and emerie. i had another mountain to climb.” 

‧.⋆｡⋆ ✩ ༶⋆ STARTER CALL | @moondevoured

SHE QUELLS THE GUT DEEP ANXIETY that threatens to steal her breath as she stares out at the vast city of velaris. a jewel box carved into stone by the sea. it was lovely, to be sure. an utter tragedy to have never beheld it in all of its splendor in her time here. the townhouse offers views neither the library nor the house could afford, throwing the court of night into sharp relief. winding roads lined with shops and taverns and beautiful homes, all brimming with people as evening gave way into true night [ . . . ] there's a wistfulness that takes root in her heart alongside her fear. a powerful yearning that might one day eclipse the fright that kept her shackled to a place that no longer served her. a half smile tugs at gwyn's lips as nesta comes to join her on the balcony, settling at the lip of the railing. ' I still don't know if I forgive you for staying behind. . . ' she muses, her voice a teasing lilt to conceal the anguish that still gripped her heart at the memory of nesta's face on the mountain. ' But if you can make the high lord send more of these tea cakes to the library I'll consider a truce. '

good morning! looks like pinterest heard the chatter on the timeline last night.

@meaercies @deathschallenger @ all the nesta’s who i really should be following

— Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living

nesta looks him up and down as he approaches, just once, as if her interest in his form is only casual. it is compared to the way she's swept up by the sound of his laughter; it calls to her like a song from her childhood — one that she'll never tire of hearing. less torture. she wonders about that for a moment... what it would look like, if it's something he'd ever want, if he let himself. but curiosity evaporates once he's in her orbit again. instinctively she takes another step closer, turning just a fraction to glance at the dress he's picked. of course with his attention to detail he has an eye for fashion. although she's never worn the dress, she can already envision how it will look; the way it will embellish every curve and contour, the deep plunge of the neckline. 

"i don't recall saying anything about ripping. in fact i was thinking of something more methodical… RITUALISTIC, even.” the words are laced with a smirk, one meant to hide the thrill she finds in being given a list of what he likes about her... that her sharp tongue ranks among them. it would be enough to bring her to tears on a bad day - but it’s decidedly good. the sound of azriel's laughter still echoes in her ears, laced with his compliments. they reverberate through her like an orchestra. she wants to say to hell with whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing in the hewn city in just a few short hours (wanted to say to hell with it regardless) but she resists. runs her fingers along midnight silk thoughtfully.

“i don’t care if we ruin every last one of them.” there was a time when she would have. it wasn’t so long ago that would daydream about the jewels she’d one day adorn herself with. the things she cares about now are infinitely more important, and occupy her thoughts in far more interesting ways. “— but if you like this one so much perhaps we should be more careful. hike it up instead of tearing it off... or keep the remnants for other uses.” 

he watches her fingers still on the dress, its emerald color sparkling in the light of day from the window. he can feel her mood even with her back turned to him. the fact he delighted her brings a smirk to his beautiful face. when she glances back, he catches her gaze and holds it. his head tilts in a predatory manner. the whole look is thrown to the wind when she speaks. laughter, true laughter, erupts from him as he throws his head back. " no, i don't believe so. i think i would have to resort to less torture if that were an option. " less torture, less blood. azriel slides from the bed, unashamed in his nudity before her. he casually walks to her, reaching past her to move a few of the dresses. " if i'm to rip you from the dress, choose one that you don't care to ruin. " he speaks to her standing below him, and pulls out a dress of midnight blue, low cut. azriel admires the fabric and craftsmanship. such a pity if he tears the seams. " i do not wish to objectify you, because it is your mind, wit, and sharp tongue that fuels my desire for you, nesta, but this one... "

fyi if we’re mutuals you have full consent to be as feral as you want in asks and dms

Nesta and Cassian

Art. Tangerine. Eileen