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@duskdivined
#DUSKDIVINED; NEVER AGAIN WOULD SHE BE WEAK. NEVER AGAIN WOULD SHE BE AT SOMEONE'S MERCY. NEVER AGAIN WOULD SHE FAIL. NEVER AGAIN, NEVER AGAIN, NEVER AGAIN.
an independent roleplay blog for nesta archeron of a court of thorns and roses. adored by amy. thirty-one, she / her, gmt timezone. low activity & often elusive. previously @moondevoured.
✷ ˙ ˖ alternate universes ✷ ˙ ˖ pinterest ✷ ˙ ˖ tags ✷ ˙ ˖ @duskdevoted
rules below.
nesta should have been meaner.
in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.
she feels regretful over adding a new player to the game. if one could call this life a game. it's just been one nightmare after another and every time she believes they're starting to settle down and the dust his hitting the ground, something new happens. and when that something new happens, one more kid or adult is added to the party. they're no longer blind to the truth and now welcome to this hell ride.
joyce frowns slightly, not so much over how nesta responded, but because she feels bad. these are kids and teens. young adults. their youth is being stolen from them before her eyes and there's not much she can do but support where she can.
❝ ever since my youngest, will, went missing, ❞ she murmurs, brows furrowing as her hands come to rest over nesta's. (she'd noticed the tremble and wanted to offer whatever comfort she could.) ❝ it's been a long, tiring … sometimes frightening fight. but we're all in this together. ❞ she offers a gentle squeeze before releasing, ❝ so don't go stressing yourself – you're not up against anything on your own. ❞
" that was years ago. " her voice is uncharacteristically dumbstruck. nesta remembers the endless search parties for the byers boy. remembers gossip about a body found in the quarry and mrs byers and her eldest son arguing in the street. remembers kids whispering and snickering about the zombie boy for months after he was returned safe and sound. it all makes sense now. his disappearance marked the start of one strange event after another for hawkins – but for them it seems the years have been filled with horrors she’s barely scratched the surface of.
the eldest archeron isn’t the most tactile person. usually being touched makes her retreat, but she’s so lost in her thoughts that the gentle touch of steady hands only pulls her back to her senses. she finds herself looking at the other woman with a new sense of admiration. even so, she almost finds herself scoffing in disbelief. " no offense mrs. byers but you’re hardly a trained military unit. how did you figure all of this out? trial and error? " but she’s heard far more stupid things than that.
@duskdivined ⸺ “ stop comparing yourself, it's pointless. ”
‧︑ ⸺ ❀ hyacinth had never once allowed herself to indulge that little green monster in the back of her head. always too busy, always found it ridiculous to do anything of the sort. yet here she was, brows pinched and lips a tight line. COMPARING. exactly what nesta said. it earned her a little bit of a narrowed eye look before exhaling sharply.
“ i know it's not going to get me anywhere, before you add. ” so self aware, this young woman. “ BUT SOMETIMES IT'S HARD. ” it's not just women her own age ... who are more demure, more approachable. sometimes it's her own family, her own sisters. so happy, and in love, & HYACINTH STRUGGLES. “ whether you deem it pointless or not. ” perhaps a little too snippy, despite herself. “ SORRY. ”
in the years since she married her husband, nesta has spent many a blissful season watching from the sidelines. the romantics among the women of the ton cherish being able to witness matches being made, but nesta finds joy in watching girls flourish into young women. particularly the ones she recognises a glimmer of herself in. when she debuted in society her nights were sleepless. thoughts about how a suitable suitor would never find her agreeable enough to marry filled her with more dread than any nightmare could. that sleeplessness made her even less affable than usual. for a moment she thought she’d recognised that fear in hyacinth, but the bite in her words brings a smile to her lips. reassures her that she has enough fight left to be just fine.
" your apology is pointless, too. you didn’t offend me. " the ebb and flow of the music from the band has lifted her spirits. a few sharp words will be the last thing to affect her, especially when she and feyre have said far worse to one another. silver hues flicker to the serious girl and she considers for a moment before speaking. " my point is that every girl in this room is comparing themselves to another. but you have more to offer than most. "
@duskdivined sent: oh please, as if you've never done it. to feyre!
peace between sisters remains tenuous and she'd rather continue on this upward momentum ━ casual conversation was never their thing. sleet eyes widen still, amusement sparkling in their depths, fingers clasping together as she leans forward. ❝ i'm sorry, have you met my mate? tall, tattooed, purple eyes, arrogant as fuck . . . ❞ the face she pulls is comical, bottom lip jutting out and head bobbing back and forth. as if drawing some logical conclusion that yes ー yes she has done it and she's couldn't be more proud. ❝ trust me, this isn't judgement, i'm just amused you said it. ❞ these little pockets of honesty made nesta more real ー why not enjoy them a little?
even after all this time looking into her youngest sisters face and seeing her own startles her. but she's pleased to find that with each passing day their resemblance bothers her less – feels less like something they share with their mother, and more like something they share with one another. perhaps that’s why she’s able to spende more time with her… why she’s able to share personal details of her life with feyre without fighting the urge to grimace. but a grimace surely finds her at the mention of rhysand.
" oh, i've had the displeasure of meeting your mate. " it has so often felt that way, but a glimmer of amusement lingers in her eyes despite the thought of what they’re alluding to – of what nesta has inexplicably alluded to doing with cassian just last week. nesta presses her lips together in an attempt to bite back another confession, but it spills from her lips anyway. " it’s nice... being your friend, feyre. " tentative as their friendship may be.
just sleep in the bed with me. i'll even make a pillow wall between us.
" a gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor. " nesta crosses her arms, brows lifting as she levels him with an intent stare. but he doesn’t budge. the longer he holds his ground ( or mattress ) the wearier she becomes. gods, he makes that bed look divine – and she hasn’t relaxed the entire time they’ve spent travelling to this hostile court. a quiet sigh escapes her. another, and her posture relaxes slightly. once upon a time she would have demanded that azriel leave the bed… the room. but that time has passed. as much as she values her personal space, she trusts him now. values him enough to know that he deserves to be comfortable, too.
relief floods her veins when when she perches upon the edge of the bed. it’s even softer than it looks. the sheets are so heavenly beneath her palms that if she didn’t know any better she’d think she’d melt right into the bed and re-emerge in a realm of cherubic creatures. if she were alone she’d want to sleep completely nude save for the embrace of those sheets, but for the sake of modesty she only removes her shoes and hastily plucks the pins from her hair. for a few moments the only sound in the world is that of the pins raining on the bedside table, and the shift of the bed as she lays beside the shadowsinger.
" don’t bother, it would be a waste of pillows. i trust you to keep your hands to yourself. " nesta is just about to rest her eyes when something far more pressing occurs to her and she turns to face him. the cool pillow kisses her cheek, but she's even more struck by how different azriel looks from this angle. " but if you snore we may have to rethink this arrangement. take shifts, perhaps. "
@obscurits, askbox meme.
what made u guys pick ur url's !
duskdivined asked: we've been researching legends, but there isn't much to go on. ✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐏𝐓 𝟏.
" let's give them hell enough to make a few new ones then. " together , they would make a wonderful team. mutual enemies did not stand a chance. she knows well of nesta's capabilities---admires her vigor. " what do you say , nesta archeron ? will you join me ? "
nesta considers the wingleader carefully. she’s utterly lethal, visciousness rolls off her in waves. but she’s honourable, too. the made fae could think of worse allies – has had worse allies. she offers the silver-haired beauty a sharp nod and an outstretched hand follows.
" i’ve always told males i’m a witch... it only seems right to work with one. " perhaps she can learn a thing or two from the female before her.
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: the angel baby, @f1ameheir ♡ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: @21chaos @feylived @flamesofday @ovalheir @princelings & you!
nesta is about to take their daughter away for half of their agreed upon full time. they'd come to the agreement rather easily as neither of them wanted to take their daughter away from the other. dorian prided himself on how easy it was to parent gigi with nesta. it was a walk in the park, almost literally at times. he never regretted a minute of their relationship or their time together. the only thing that he'd regretted was splitting gigi's time. the woman didn't have to love him – he knew she never would. a marriage of convenience, right?
dorian rubbed his brow as he stepped back and let nesta be ‘mom’. it was killing him inside to even take that step back. the wind ruffled his dark hair, blowing it into his eyes and he ran a hand through it. there was some sort of silent conversation between his daughter and nesta. . . she was looking at her rather expectantly. the roll of nesta's eyes tell more than what was obvious there.
his dark, trimmed brows shoot up as he looks between the females.
❝ auntie feyre painted you something? that's so special! ❞ if nesta didn't want him to come, she wouldn't have asked – at least, he had to tell himself that. right? he hadn't been to her house in a little while . . at least not as a guest. mostly for a pickup or stood in the doorway and waited for their baby. they had wanted gigi to have a normal childhood but at the same time, it was almost painful for dorian to spend time with the both of them. he did it for gianna. he did it for their family. he always would.
if he came home with them, he'd be able to see if nesta needed anything from him without her bruising her pride. they could have a decent conversation for more than three to ten minutes.
❝ i would absolutely love to see feyre's painting and come for dinner. lead the way! ❞
there are many impressive things about dorian. the way he is with gigi ranks highly among them. he has a way of speaking to her in a way that is engaging and exciting without dumbing anything down. he has a talent for appealing to people like that – a way of saying just the right thing, in just the right tone... perhaps that’s why he’s able to get through her own icy exterior so well. he draws out a little glimmer of her light on the now rare occasion that he’s nearby.
" it’s certainly something, you’ll see. " a hint of amusement glints in silver hues and she lowers herself to lift gigi. for just a moment there’s a pang in her chest. at five years old she’s already getting too tall to carry. it’s only a matter of time before the last time she holds her like this, bears her weight. she resolves to get into weight lifting to make it last as long as possible. long legs dangle awkwardly, and nesta lets out a small huff as she lifts her higher upon her hip.
" have you grown since i saw you last? " a smile tugs at her lips as she peers into her favourite face in the world; a blend of dorian’s and her own, flushed from the sun and perfectly unmarred by the sadness of the world. for as long as she lives, she plans to keep it that way. " your father must be feeding you magic beans, you’re like a bean stalk! " that pulls a laugh from her… the anticipated argument about how she’ll 'never eat beans' follows, and nesta nods as if to accommodate.
little does she know she regularly eats beans blended into sauces. as she continues to chatter, nesta shoots dorian a knowing look, and tilts her head to where she parked before venturing off in that direction and listening out for his footsteps behind her. as she walks she tries to remember the last time he made his way into her apartment. tries to remember if everything is in its place. her apartment is usually meticulously clean, but it’s small; easier to appear cluttered when compared to a mansion.
already she’s wondering if she can beat him there and make sure everything is in its place before inviting him in. by the time she sets gigi into her car seat, she’s rolling her eyes at herself and the nerves twisting her gut. dorian might just be one of the least judgemental people she knows, but she’s nervous all the same. it feels strange to allow him into her space after such a long time. with their daughter safe and sound in the backseat, she pauses by the door and steel hues find ocean blues. " we'll meet you there? "
┈ ﹐ @duskdivined ﹒ gets a semi plotted starter
never allow anger to become you. words a long lost yet eternally wise woman had once spoken into her daughter's ear what felt as if a millenia ago. many phrases and advice the woman had once offered her. knowing the world her daughter was to grow in , the trials and tribulations that would follow her like a waiting asp soley for her title and bering of wings . . . she had never wanted to raise either of her children to be but lambs to slaughter. even more so her sole daughter. memories of times before the hearth , combs brushing through asteria's long onyx strands as stories wove into the fibers , was the reason for the voice in her ear.
the state of the cabin had fueled a deep rooted fire within. the reason she had been dispatched for hours past dinner. fingers numb from scrubbing paint from weather worn walls brushed against the now tattered trousers she had opted for over a gown as she moved through the house of wind. ( pity in the fact asteria had once loved these pants. ) not that she had claimed the house in any sort , it answered to nesta in such a way asteria held naught but respect towards. moonstone had become her haven. but exhausted wings left her little choice as to her pit stop.
lost in her own mind , tallying the tasks still to do to mend their mother's home , it should not have been a surprise to have her path near cut off by nesta herself. “ ohh . . . ! ” gathering herself , asteria pulls herself back into the moment at hand. pulling her body to the side to allow the other to pass. “ apologies. i was only here for a moment then i will be off. ”
the phantom sound of swords slashing through the air still echo in nesta's ears as she makes her way through the house of wind. her muscles sing with the same ferocity, and she can feel every step of the routine she perfected as if it thrums in her veins. exhaustion wears on her very being – but it’s the only thing that keeps her from her thoughts. she’s discovered that depletion is the best tonic for her feelings of defeat.
surprise revives her features when she happens upon asteria in the quiet hallways. strangely, she isn’t surprised to see her there, but to recognise her own fatigue in the other female. but there’s something else beneath it… something that keeps her tethered to the spot even when the other makes way for her.
" don’t apologise. you can stay here for as long as you like. " if anything she is the one who has over stayed her welcome. nesta and the walls around her have a connection of the mind, or perhaps the spirit, but asteria’s life was woven with it long before she was made. long before she was born. "but if you do need some space, it’s certainly big enough. "
there’s a question in her statement but she keeps her features neutral while she waits to see if asteria will answer it. seconds pass as she studies her appearance – she looks positively shabby... a far cry from the vision of loveliness and luxury she’s come to know her as. in that moment she realises that she’s too tired for the patience that formalities require. " what’s wrong? you don’t look your normal self. "
❛ you 𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 power. ❜ admiration &* interest practically set asterin's gaze aglow as she eyes @duskdivined. a grin curves her lips , iron canines bared with no malice. lean arms cross , then she's set forward , steps carrying her in a prowl around the fae. ❛ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. ❜ no distaste ; reverance.
" so do you. " the magical kind, of course. but it's clear that most of the other females' power lies in the way she holds herself, in the knowledge she wields in battle... in those teeth. morbid curiosity tugs at nesta and it's all she can do to keep her gaze from that deadly smile. the next words to emerge from her silver glinted mouth should be an insult, should make her flinch. but they don't... if only because the other seems to be more fascinated or impressed than disgusted.
" i'll take your word for it. " nesta remains utterly still as the blonde circles her but her very being is uniquely aware of her every movement. she moves with the leisurely poise of a predator, but she doesn't make nesta feel like prey... just a mere curiosity. and then she catches it — a scent on the other that she's never experienced before. silver eyes narrow. " and what in the cauldron do you smell like? "
— @duskdivined get's a starter because i love them.
❛ nesta ?! ❜ it was the sound of aelin’s voice that eased the radiating ire that bloomed amongst the two males behind her at the sudden arrival of the woman before them. well , the woman and the dark haired man beside her. whereas she knew to inquire about the stranger alongside her friend , aelin could not withhold worry in regards to why she was here. not when she , and the strange male beside her , looked as if they had run for their lives. embers trickled within her at the realization — for a threat against any of her friends was one aelin took personally. on this world or any other.
shoving the mass of a male that was rowan from before her , aelin is quick to close the space between the two. hands warmed from within reach to grab hold of the other woman’s hand as a silent tell that she was safe. ❛ are you okay ? ❜
nesta can barely hear her own thoughts over the sound of the harp... of the strange frequency that the strings emitted before parting the skies and allowing them to escape. but aelin’s voice, clear as a bell on a winter morning, makes it’s way to her. she’s exhausted. her legs are leaden from the effort to carry her this far, but at the sight of the queen of terrasen she almost breaks out into a run again. would, if not for the foreboding figures flanking her – their handsome faces like thunder.
the harp falls to her side and she reaches for azriel, giving his arm a momentary squeeze. it’s a silent request to remain calm, to keep pace with her… to follow her lead. the sense of anticipation in the air changes slightly when the distance between the two females is closed and even bloodied and bruised, even coated in sweat and debris, nesta cannot help but smile at her.
" it looks far worse than it is, " she glances up at azriel, as if to draw a confirmation from a male of few words. " but we are here to ask for your help – if you can spare it. "
Lucien’s golden eye glinted, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that half-smile that always seemed to hover between mockery and intrigue. It seemed both sisters had a bit of bite to them, and Nesta's teeth felt a tad sharper than Feyre's. “A village boy, am I?” His tone was amused, soft, velvet-smooth, but threaded with something sharp beneath it. He didn’t seem insulted; if anything, the jab entertained him. The red of his hair caught the light as he inclined his head, studying her with that fox like patience.“Careful, my sweet human,” he murmured, his voice dropping low, a hint of laughter curling around each word. “You might find village boys know a thing or two you don’t.”
Lucien took a step towards her, chuckling at Nesta's next question. Lucien is careful as he slips behind her, his hand angling so his arm is across her waist. "Your lovely sister, is eating us out of house and home" There is a slight tone of affection in his voice, amused that her hauntiness has dissolved into care for Feyre. He wonders if she'd ever expect her mortal sister to manage to get herself over the wall, in hopes of stealing her back. He's almost certain Feyre will be shocked, but he wonders if Nesta will be more surprised to find her comfortable. That it was quite possible warm bath and fresh clothes would be provided, and she too— would have food available.
Winnowing was a step between space, from the woods and now onto the grounds of Spring. Lucien paused before releasing Nesta, ensuring she was steady on her feet before releasing her. "Here's to family reunions"
nesta inhales a deep breath through her nose, an attempt to quell the heat that begins to flood her neck and cheeks. no, he’s nothing like a village boy. at least she knows where she stands with those – knows that teeth and a sharp jab to the gut - lower - will unarm them if need be. as far as she can tell this lucien is fast on his feet; tough to rattle, but she has no doubt that she’ll keep trying – if only because it steadies her.
sweet human. her lips curl into a smile that is sweet. sickeningly so. " nothing i have any interest in learning. "
before she can recoil from his hands, his words stop her in her tracks. for a moment she’s elated to hear that feyre is well fed, that she hasn’t continued to waste away while their sister and father have practically gorged themselves on “aunt ripleigh’s” dime. but then she remembers the stories of fae food. she doesn’t have a moment to fret about them before she’s whisked away on the wind. just as she clutches lucien’s arm - with enough force to bruise a human - the world stills.
her empty stomach drops, head spinning as she gasps for the breath that she left behind. but she remains breathless. before her is the most luxurious manor she’s ever seen. nesta doesn’t need to see the furnishings to know it's filled to the brim with finery and frills. that it belongs to their wealthy benefactor. she looks from the manor to the male, disbelief etched into her features, fingertips clutching him tighter to keep herself from losing her balance.
" what on earth was that? "
sorry for not being around much (here or disco) i've just been feeling down and overwhelmed lately but i'm going to continue quietly queuing replies for a while because i like how that works. hope you're all doing well <3
to yearn for a home that was not your home — it's a feeling aelin herself was far too familiar with. so long in the depths of endovier , of craving to go back to rifthold. back to what life once was before everything had been turned upside down. perhaps there was apart of her that still wished for that. however bloody , loud , and nightmarish it had been. at least it had been familiar. it's the realization that aelin begins to question the other — is that her desire to return home to a familiar daily life ? biting down on her tongue to keep the questions from rolling out , it is only her hand resting atop the other's that provides a silent word of understanding.
❛ you know it isn't a one way ticket don't you ? ❜ no. terrasen was a home to all. the overlooked , unwanted , casted away — no matter the story of their souls , they would find peace here. even if they hailed from another world. ❛ terrasen , all of erilea , is home to you. and always will be. for however long you wish to stay , how ever many times you come and go. ❜ it's then do turquoise eyes rung in gold grab hold of the others. ❛ no questions asked. ❜
nesta doesn’t think to conceal the confusion that creeps its way onto her features. upheaval has been the one permanent fixture in her life, yet the outcome has always left her feeling stuck. as seemingly charmed as her childhood was, she’d been trapped by expectations of perfection; of securing a favourable future. when they lost their fortune, a future with even an ounce of comfort became impossible to fathom. just as she’d finally been on the cusp of contentment a neverending future, filled with battle and blood, had seized her.
the made fae never would have traveled through space and time if not for what… a turn of fate? a gift from the cauldron in the form of a young queen? if she hadn’t already been forced to believe in a greater power, aelin would certainly have made her a believer. it’s something she’s seen in others too since her arrival here; a blind sort of faith and wonder, but not a foolish one. she’s quiet as she mulls it all over – surprisingly calm about the others hand on hers, perhaps because she is so consumed by her thoughts.
this isn’t a one way ticket, yet she can’t help but worry that a ‘goodbye’ will be final.
" i’ve never had much choice before. " a quiet confession, despite the fact that they’re utterly and blissfully alone. the court is bustling, but she doesn’t feel as though eyes are trained on her; has no sense that her words will be repeated to somebody who she can never truly trust. but she trusts aelin. believes every last word to fall from her lips. and a home? it’s all she’s ever wanted. erilea would be the perfect one – it already is to so many.
" i would like nothing more. " another confession, but this one is more certain, feels far less pathetic. it parts her lips with a smile. " perhaps if my plan goes awry, the next time i return will be for good. " humour, wry as it is, laces its way into her voice. in truth she has two options: make her plan work, survive. or fail, and likely fight to the death. " it may be wise to make some room in your court for a few valkyries. perhaps a seer and a shadowsinger. "
playfulness remains in her tone, but full lips press into a flat line the moment she forbids herself to explore that thought any further. she has died and been reborn. she has killed and killed and killed. but this is territory too morbid even for a being with a talent for anticipating the worst. a voice in the back of her mind tells her to cross that bridge when she comes to it, and just like that the thought is released to return another time.
" of all the queens i’ve met, you are by far my favourite. " no need to mention that there’s no competition, instead she simply nudges aelin’s hand so that their fingers may entwine, the moment of sisterhood anchors her. " but i suppose you’ve heard that often enough? "
