🖤Eris and Nuala (or Cerridwen) Crackship 🖤
Thanks to @starswhogaze for opening my eyes to this crackship 😍
Hear me out: You see, Eris is wholly focused on looks and appearances. He’s focused on power and politics, and wouldn’t it be ironic that he fell for someone who’s always half-hidden in shadows and is invisible? Someone who’s a lower fae, a handmaiden, who can go invisible during big events. She is someone who bakes and cooks and loves fashion and hair styling, yet she’s been trained as a spy by Azriel, the most powerful Illyrian and spymaster in the history of the Night Court.
I would love for him to be completely enamored with someone who doesn’t stand out, with someone whose skills are so highly superior to his, but she doesn’t flaunt it, doesn’t boast, he just recognizes she is. I want him to be completely besotted with a half-wraith who remains in the shadows, someone who’s not politically advantageous to him in any way, but he yearns for her anyway.
~ She’s far superior in every way
~ She knows everything about him for years
~ He’s just now noticed her
~ She’s shrouded in mystery, and he wants to know more
~ He can’t get her out of his mind
She’s unseen. She’s a half-wraith tasked to spy on the Autumn Court’s heir in his homestead. She’s mere mist and shadow, she remains a distance away. She already knows so much about this lord, who she spent 50 years alongside with Under the Mountain. She’s memorized his firey hair, auburn eyes, and cold demeanor.
Dogs start barking. Smoke hounds, running straight at her. She vanishes into smoke, winnowing a few miles away. Before she can take a step, Eris is right behind her, with a knife on her throat, and says with a low, vicious growl, “You think I don’t know when I’m being watched.” She vanishes away from him.
She now stands a few feet away, where she can clearly see him. She says nothing. Her heart is racing in her chest, yet there is some morbid curiosity as she stares at his face, now red with anger. She almost wants to laugh for some unknown reason.
Eris’s anger multiplies the longer he’s ignored. “I could smell you from a mile away.” His eyes are now molten with rage.
She’s never been detected before. She can hear the echoes of the hounds at a distance, and she knows she should vanish into mists; he wouldn’t be able to stop her, but she’s intrigued. She can’t seem to be able to move away. When Eris lunges toward her with the knife again, she just mists away once more, a few feet away from where she was. They continue this dance for a while, Eris growing increasingly furious by the second.
He suddenly stops to take a good look at her, the female who is so good at evading him. She doesn’t fight back, doesn’t return his fury, and doesn’t even seem bothered at being discovered. He’s enraged at being spied on but intrigued at this female whose skill is unmatched.
They observe each other in silence, him taking in her black leathers, her smokey-dark skin and dark eyes, and that mischievous glint in her eyes, against the red and oranges of the Autumn Court forests. She’s an obsidian blade, in a sea of fire.
Unremarkable to any high fae, but he won’t underestimate her. She finally vanishes as he tries to grab her again, to no avail. Her scent is completely gone now. His hounds, who have now reached him, are barking at where she stood not 10 seconds ago, yet are not running to seek her. She’s vanished for good this time, to report to her master most likely.
Her scent still clings to his mind, however, to his skin. Mist, smoke and Jasmine— and something so familiar yet intoxicating. He winnows away, planning on raising hell upon the Night Court.
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