Thread: The Wild Of Spring - Tumblr Posts
The Wild of Spring @lockinspo
Tamlin still wasn’t used to seeing Feyre walking the grounds of the Spring Court and his heart not jumping within his chest. Only weeks ago, he’d watched her die in his arms. Her blood stained her cheeks and his tears washed it away. Despite the time that had passed, it still felt like he was there — frozen in that moment, never to see her again. Now, he watched from a distance as she walked along the gravel paths. Although she wore a smile, often, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something so much deeper.
There was for him. Neither one had managed to find the words to speak of it yet. He held his hands back, watching the ground moved as he walked. All he wanted was to know the thoughts that swirled beyond her placid visage. He bit his lip, swallowing hard. They would make it through this, wouldn’t they?
They would. They’d made it through so much worse.
Tamlin quickened his pace and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Alis bossing around the new, poor chef. Bless her soul — training an entire household in only weeks. She must be tired. He politely waited until the conversation ended and then requested a picnic basket from the chef.
“Alis?” He asked. “Can you ask Feyre to meet me in the glade? For lunch?”
Alis gave him a knowing smile. “Yes, my lord. I’m assuming you don’t mind the pants and tunic?”
His eyebrows wrinkled. What was she talking about? “Never…why?”
“People have been talking.” The housemistress sighed. “Say she’s still a bit wild for a High Lady.”
Tamlin pressed his lips into a frown. “Feyre may wear whatever brings her the most comfort. If the rumors don’t stop, send the culprits to my office tonight.”
Alis nodded quickly as he headed to the door. “Koda?” She asked.
“Yes?” Tamlin’s attention was recaptured at the use of his nickname.
“Might you run a brush through your hair. You look a bit wild yourself.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Wild is always welcome in Spring.”
Tamlin paced through the daffodil fields, running his fingers across the tips of the petals, and trying to focus his thoughts on the soft breeze that blew through the valley. It ruffled his hair and rushed through the flowers, sending bees in somersaults, and reassured him that everything would be okay. Things may be broken now, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t continue. The flowers still knew how to bloom and the bees still gathered in around them, humming a song of good will and grace. Spring was still alive.
He closed his eyes and let the harmony of nature whisper to him the things that only the High Lord could hear. He could sense the health of his land, from the depth of the soil to the tip of the sky. Although it quivered — frail, and new — there was an ancient strength rising from deep underneath the ground. He could feel the old magic creeping towards the surface and reaching for a hand to hold.
Yet, it stopped short. The swell shortened to a soft sigh and Tamlin opened his eyes. The sun was ever bright and the air ever warm. Just as promised, spring had come again. In the distance, he saw a few faelings trampling through the fields. The return of his people brought up complicated emotions. His court had been silent for so long. The laughter continually caught him off guard.
This time — with a soft smile. The High Lord tucked his long hair behind his ear and walked further away. A private picnic could not be private if little children were in danger of running into his excursion from the manor with his lady. He chose a space on the hill above and watched as Feyre climbed to greet him.
Halfway, Tamlin ran to meet her. A wide smile crossed his lips and he lifted her off of the ground, holding her to his chest. The feeling of her arms slipping around his neck was the more security than he could ever ask for — not many got to see their loved one returned from the dead.
I lost you once. I can’t lose you again.
His grip around her waist tightened as their eyes met. Her playful gaze softened his serious one.
What do I want? To kiss you. Oh, to kiss you.
“What do you think he wants?” He whispered, pushing her hair away from her newly pointed ears. “Except to treasure you for the next thousand years of his life?”
The Wild of Spring @lockinspo
Tamlin still wasn’t used to seeing Feyre walking the grounds of the Spring Court and his heart not jumping within his chest. Only weeks ago, he’d watched her die in his arms. Her blood stained her cheeks and his tears washed it away. Despite the time that had passed, it still felt like he was there — frozen in that moment, never to see her again. Now, he watched from a distance as she walked along the gravel paths. Although she wore a smile, often, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something so much deeper.
There was for him. Neither one had managed to find the words to speak of it yet. He held his hands back, watching the ground moved as he walked. All he wanted was to know the thoughts that swirled beyond her placid visage. He bit his lip, swallowing hard. They would make it through this, wouldn’t they?
They would. They’d made it through so much worse.
Tamlin quickened his pace and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Alis bossing around the new, poor chef. Bless her soul — training an entire household in only weeks. She must be tired. He politely waited until the conversation ended and then requested a picnic basket from the chef.
“Alis?” He asked. “Can you ask Feyre to meet me in the glade? For lunch?”
Alis gave him a knowing smile. “Yes, my lord. I’m assuming you don’t mind the pants and tunic?”
His eyebrows wrinkled. What was she talking about? “Never…why?”
“People have been talking.” The housemistress sighed. “Say she’s still a bit wild for a High Lady.”
Tamlin pressed his lips into a frown. “Feyre may wear whatever brings her the most comfort. If the rumors don’t stop, send the culprits to my office tonight.”
Alis nodded quickly as he headed to the door. “Koda?” She asked.
“Yes?” Tamlin’s attention was recaptured at the use of his nickname.
“Might you run a brush through your hair. You look a bit wild yourself.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Wild is always welcome in Spring.”
The soft spring air drifting across the eastern meadows let Tamlin drift away on the puffy white clouds that scattered across the soft blue sky. The warm breeze and bright sun on his skin refreshed him and left him floating off into a warm daze. Feyre’s hand kept him anchored to the moment and the ground. Otherwise, the high fae very well might have begun floating. He rubbed his thumb over her palm in slow circles.
Her fingers were calloused, but he didn’t mind that in the slightest. Each groove in her thumb or line in her palm was the mark of some injury or achievement. High Fae could endure life altering pain and it would barely leave a mark unless the weapon were made of a particular caliber. Tamlin still felt every wound, but there were scars he could not show.
He liked hers. They were marks of being living and real. She was something that he could hold onto when everything around him erupted in storms. Feyre was no darling. She had her thorns, her bolts, and her bruises — but the more that he learned of her, the more dear to him she became. She never stopped fighting, whether it was for the last piece of chocolate cake or his time and attention. Only recently had he seen her truly relax.
He heard her words and contemplated them - before answering.
“It was a childhood dream of mine,” He said slowly, biting his lip. “I didn’t always stay at the manor and my Mother and I sometimes took days near the lake in a small cabin when I was small. Being with her was different. We were a different family than what everyone saw at court. There was no greater bliss than spending evenings on the dock by her side and drawing with glowing chalk late into the night.”
“I guess I can’t say I wanted a whole new family.” His brow wrinkled. “I just wanted to be away from the spectacle…the scrutiny.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her, shyly catching her gaze. His soft green eyes piqued with both curiosity and nerves.
“I’d like to think we would be.” He whispered. “That paths cross for a reason. What do you think, Feyre? Do you believe in fate?
@thehighlordofspring sent: ‘it feels nice…being here with you.’
Feyre was coming to terms with her freedom now and even so it felt weird to sometimes not think about her family even though she could feel the hole in her heart where they should be. Looking up at the clear blue sky she turned her head to change her view to the male laying next to her. Tamlin, she once thought of him as her jailer, but now she had a completely different view of him. He rescued her in a way from the life that she was living and she was thriving in his court.
One hand reached out to touch his as she looked back up at the sky a little smile touching her lips. "It feels nice being here with you too." She closed her eyes enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin letting it tan her further than she had already become living here. He could leave her in this field and Feyre would take a nap on the plush grass dreaming about all of the things this meadow made her want to paint. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you were born to a different family?" She asks quietly not daring to look at him.
"Do you think we would have been like this if you were born human like me?" Now she opened her eyes rolling her head over so that she could study the planes of his face from her view.
“I think I like to forget the bad, as much as I can.” He winced, looking away briefly, so that Feyre couldn’t see the darkness which clouded his eyes when he thought of his father and brothers. They’d lost their rights to be called family, in his mind. Blood didn’t determine that — loyalty did. Lucien was his brother. So was Andras. He would much prefer to forget what he could and nurse the wounds they’d left in peace. Tamlin sighed heavily, his brows bent low with empathy, as he again met her eyes. Gray and questioning, they still actively searched for his loyalties. How was he supposed to tell her of the feelings that burgeoned beneath the surface of his heart? He would go to any length for her. He’d kill for her. He’d die for her. Nothing hurt more than knowing the sense of unbelonging she felt inside her own family, because he understood it in his core.
“How could that ever make you bad?” He whispered, gently reaching up, and resting his hand on her cheek. “I may have disowned my family before the pain of them disowning me could set in, but that does not mean I don’t understand feeling left out. Feeling…alone. Invisible.”
Tamlin slowly dropped his hand as she turned to face the nature around them and adopted a similar stance, instead, letting his long legs stretch into the grass as he lay with his arms back behind his head. He watched her, watch the world. She was so quiet. So observant. Yet, her family were fools if they could not see her beauty, or her worth.
“No.” He swallowed. “Fate is a lazy man’s way of excusing his poor choices. For every action we take, there is an equal or opposite reaction, right? Choice has consequence. While I admire…
“Romance,” Tamlin could not help the smile that inched up his face, nor the blush that tinted his ears. “It is no excuse for the way a man chooses to live.”
He sat up, inching closer toward her. “Being here, with you, right now…is a choice.”
Tamlin once again found himself caught up in her gaze. “One I am particularly glad I made.”
The soft spring air drifting across the eastern meadows let Tamlin drift away on the puffy white clouds that scattered across the soft blue sky. The warm breeze and bright sun on his skin refreshed him and left him floating off into a warm daze. Feyre’s hand kept him anchored to the moment and the ground. Otherwise, the high fae very well might have begun floating. He rubbed his thumb over her palm in slow circles.
Her fingers were calloused, but he didn’t mind that in the slightest. Each groove in her thumb or line in her palm was the mark of some injury or achievement. High Fae could endure life altering pain and it would barely leave a mark unless the weapon were made of a particular caliber. Tamlin still felt every wound, but there were scars he could not show.
He liked hers. They were marks of being living and real. She was something that he could hold onto when everything around him erupted in storms. Feyre was no darling. She had her thorns, her bolts, and her bruises — but the more that he learned of her, the more dear to him she became. She never stopped fighting, whether it was for the last piece of chocolate cake or his time and attention. Only recently had he seen her truly relax.
He heard her words and contemplated them - before answering.
“It was a childhood dream of mine,” He said slowly, biting his lip. “I didn’t always stay at the manor and my Mother and I sometimes took days near the lake in a small cabin when I was small. Being with her was different. We were a different family than what everyone saw at court. There was no greater bliss than spending evenings on the dock by her side and drawing with glowing chalk late into the night.”
“I guess I can’t say I wanted a whole new family.” His brow wrinkled. “I just wanted to be away from the spectacle…the scrutiny.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her, shyly catching her gaze. His soft green eyes piqued with both curiosity and nerves.
“I’d like to think we would be.” He whispered. “That paths cross for a reason. What do you think, Feyre? Do you believe in fate?