#deathsconsort

[2wanlake]

odette knows how to throw a punch. if it were any other person she would've won. but she didn't pick a fight with any other person. she picked a fight with nesta archeron. it's why she's on the ground now. why she threw a punch on one of her flare days, she doesn't know. there's something about the other woman that just set her off. and though odette's dancing days are behind her, it seems like her rivalry with nesta will last forever. her scalp burns from where nesta yanked her hair. there's probably claw marks on her face. she's half convinced nesta is a demon.

nesta's the reason why she's laying sprawled on the ground now. the fall rattled her more than she thought. it set something off in her because she's sure she can't get off the ground, and she's too proud to ask nesta for help, so she will lay here forever but at least she'll look pretty while doing it. the annoying clack of a phone keyboard comes from her right. odette's grimace turns into a glare as she lolls her head over to the side, and she scowls when she sees nesta standing in the corner. there’s something menacing about the way she stands there, unbothered. it doesn’t matter that her lip is busted or that there’s angry scratch marks blooming down her arm. her expression is gleeful and a bit too earnest as she madly types something onto her phone, her thumbs flying over the screen. the wild energy rolls off her in waves, and odette scoffs. "you're delusional, you know that right?"

a starter for @deathsconsort (MUAH)

[deathschallenger]

someone said vampire werewolf bride situation. i said yes. // @deathsconsort

this has to be some sort of cosmic joke, he's dressed in a tuxedo standing in front of a preacher with his best friends beside him. except he's never imagined himself married. dead? well, more dead? yeah. on a battlefield? definitely. but fuckin' standing in front of a preacher with a satin ribbon around his neck as he fights the urge to flee.

ironically, he doesn't want to flee out of concern for himself. but out of concern for the woman he's to wed. he's seen her a few times. the sort of woman that prince's got to marry, people like rhysand, even bastards like azriel. the kind of woman who marries vampires who carry themselves like royalty. not the kind of woman who marries the turned bastard of a whore and her customer.

this line of thinking has his fangs extending, pricking at the soft flesh inside his lower lip. a deep breath. a breath that brings to his nostril the overwhelming scents of humanity. this was a fair trade they'd said. one of their women, for one of the advisors of the vampire court.

azriel's affection lay elsewhere, and honestly no one could make him do anything he didn't want to do. and rhysand? well after his last fifty years, he'd deserved a break. so. cassian had volunteered. sure maybe he wasn't a catch. but he had position. he'd take care of her. and he knew he'd never force this bride into anything she didn't consent to.

his single rule and insistence had been, she consents to this wedding, this marriage.

and, he'd been surprised when she had.

now she's walking down the aisle, a vision in white and lace. her silver ice eyes shining through the veil. he can feel that gaze. he can feel the hidden claws beneath her skin as she takes his arm. they haven't given him just a human bride. they've given him a she wolf.

rhysand scents it at the same time cassian has made his realisation, but his eyes shift to his friends. an infinitesimal shake of his head. there's a reason. there's a reason she's here. there's a reason she agreed to this. and rhysand steps back.

the vows go as vows do. and all cassian remembers is the words he finaly murmurs.

' i do. '

and hers in return.

[cthoniian]

there isn’t a single part of him that isn’t aching or itching. madja has done her wondrous healing, but covered him in salves that make him break into rashes in embarrassing places. it’s terribly difficult to scratch that particular spot in the middle of your wings when they’re bandaged to hell and back, and you can’t ask the one person whose there because you’re half certain that if you do — they’ll leave. not because of the embarrassing itch, but more because whatever this thing is between them. the friend, not friend, something more, something less — it’s fragile. it’s like a thread pulled tight. it’s strong. but it’s fragile. one more ounce of pressure and it will fray, and he knows it.

but he pushes. maybe it’s because he can’t live with the shades of gray that occupy that space between them. maybe because he’s foolish enough to think that pushing will make a difference. or maybe it’s because the middle of his back itches and he can’t reach it and it’s driven him half mad.

her back turns to him. eyes following her elegant motions. the fine control of motion. that presence that he finds himself so drawn to. did it make him weak? to be drawn to that strength? he doesn’t think he minds the answer, whatever it may be. he doesn’t expect her answer though, he expects venom, he expects barbs, that’s the thing that plays havoc with his heart. the way she says it. isn’t it enough.

against advice, but he slowly forces himself upright. moving with heavy if slightly shuffled steps —

‘ i didn’t mean that nes — i’m glad you’re my friend. i think you actually make a pretty damn good one. ‘

there’s a weak tired sort of smile on his lips, moving to stand beside her, his head dipping tiredly to rest his forehead against her shoulder. a sigh as he rests against her for a moment before —

‘ i just meant — friends doesn’t seem quite like enough. seems kinda weak. y’know? like sure rhys an’ az are my friends, but. s’more than that. when you — fight with someone, prepare to die with someone, bleed like a stuck pig with someone — it’s bit more than just friends you have things in common with. like — i’d not ask this of just any friend, but right —- between my wings, it itches. ‘

and the look he gives is nothing short of pleading and pathetic. unafraid to diminish his own ferocity to beg quite frankly. it’s an endearing effect, and as if on cue, his wings start twitching as he tries to bring his shoulders together to get that particular spot.

‘ please? ‘

meme reply // cassian & nests // @deathsconsort

[loath3d]

he levels a look towards nesta, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. they're alone, as they seem to be often these days, but cassian hardly minds. it's only when she looks at him like that that he's uneasy... mostly because he doesn't know what she's thinking. ❝ all right — out with it nes. just say whatever's on your mind and get it over with. ❞ wings are pulled in tight, arms loose at his sides... for now.

starter for / @deathsconsort

[cthoniian]

generosity must be a skewed concept for former humans turned high fae with death powers and scary ass abilities. but thankfully ( for himself ), he was a dauntless warrior and prepared for any battle. even ones that he went into weakened and under prepared for. it was difficult at the best of times to prepare for nesta archeron, and he’d pay money to see any man actually survive her wroth.

‘ i’m sorry i ate the last pastry, if id known it was your special pastry i would have never touched it. but considering you left it in the community box, with the lid open, where the jelly was just oozing and warm and the cream cheese on top was just slightly browned and the sugar crisped the — i was hungry ok! ‘

a wince as he prepares for the onslaught.

pastries before meetings had been azriel’s big idea, the one who currently sat silently across the room smirking as cassian withstood the quiet fury.

‘ i got you a coffee though? does that — help at all? a little? maybe? ‘

okay so dauntless warrior aside, he is rightfully respectful of nesta’s large personal boundaries. pastries included. he knew he shouldn’t have skipped breakfast before the meeting.

i'm generous with you , considering. // @deathsconsort for cassian

[vanserraheir]

@deathsconsort  Nesta  Archeron  says  “  i  can't  afford  to  fail.  ” ↳    from  “  I  CANNOT  SHOW  ANY  WEAKNESS  ”  PROMPTS  ( always accepting !  )

At  that,  Eris  let  out  a  laugh  devoid  of  humour,  allowing  the  barest  hint  of  a  sardonic  smile  to  form  across  his  lips.  “  Can't  afford  to  fail?  ”  The  words  taste  bitter  on  his  tongue,  keeping  his  voice  controlled  regardless  of  the  irritation  that  flares  in  his  chest.  “  How refreshingly  familiar  that  sounds.  ”  The  book  in  his  hands  snaps  shut  with  more  force  than  necessary,  the  only  crack  in  his  composure  he  permits  himself  before  sliding  it  back  onto  the  shelf  behind  him. 

“  I  recall  the  last  time  you  and  your  brute  of  a  mate  indulged  in  strategy.  Do  refresh  my  memory,  Nesta,  when  I  asked  whether  you  truly  understood  what  it  meant,  painting  me  as  my  father's  enemy  while  you  slipped  away  with  your  prize?  How  your  ' oh  so  noble '  mate  saw  fit  to  taunt  me  about  whether  Beron  would  set  my  hounds  upon  me,  or  if  my  father  would  prefer  the  pleasure  of  tearing  me  apart  himself.  ”  His  fingers  begin  to  curl  instinctively,  but  he  catches  himself  before  it  turns  into  a  fist  —  flexing  them  instead.  As  if  his  hounds  would  ever  turn  on  him. 

“  And  now  here  you  are.  Speaking  to  me  about  how  you  cannot  afford  to  fail  —  ”  Eris  continues,  tilting  his  head  with  a  mocking  smile  before  shaking  his  head.  He  might  have  commended  such  brazenness,  if  it  hadn’t  been  her  betrayal  he  remembers  so  well.  His  smile  thins.  “  Forgive  me  if  I  say  your  failures  matter  little  to  me  now  after  you  so  proudly  showed  that  my  fight  for  Autumn,  all  my  work  to  spare  my  Court  and  my  people  from  the  pitiful  excuse  of  a  High  Lord  who  sired  me  —  none  of  it  matters.  Not  when  the  Night  Court  is  involved.  ”

“  That  is  the  Night  Court’s  way,  isn’t  it?  What  your  precious  High  Lord  taught  you:  take  what  you  need,  bleed  the  rest  dry,  and  leave  the  carcass  for  others  to  clean.  Is  that  what  you  plan  to  do  to  me  again  or  have  you  developed  a  newfound  appreciation  for  loyalty  now?  ”

[flamesofday]

bathing in nature @deathsconsort

Traveling with the eldest Archeron was....interesting, to say the least. They'd stopped in Dawn Court for the upcoming assembly, and it was drenched in a glittering world of beauty but also politics. Which currently, made trying to goad Nesta into a good time difficult. She was focused, and while he could appreciate that any other time; Lucien was exhausted by it as well. Dawn was full of fun and life, and was so vastly different that Velaris. He wondered how anyone could stay put and not look out into the beauty of the world around them.

Lucien had managed to duck out before dusk, when the sun was just beginning to crest the world and covered it in shades of pinks and purples and oranges. He'd gone to bath in the springs, the water twinkling and warm from the ground. His back straightened as a small bush jostled, and a sly smile crossed his features.

"Nesta Archeron, how scandalous of you" Lucien was not shy, but he was surprised. To the point that he kept himself waist deep in the water. "I can smell you, so no sense in hiding" He turned, an unmistakable twinge of color to his cheeks. "Care to join me?" He teased, waiting for her to show herself.

[wickedpeachie]

"you're gonna be okay , just keep your eyes on me." @deathsconsort

For a brief moment, Elain believes her. It's the tone in which Nesta is saying it that blooms doubt in her chest, and she realizes that she may in fact not be okay. Elain offers her a weak smile, attempting to convey that she believes the sweet lie on her lips. Nesta has always been good at that, always good at shielding her. There was no way to shield her from this, no way to pretend she wasn't bleeding.

Her head dips in a subtle nod, her gaze softening upwards at her eldest sister. "It's cold" She mumbled softly, her fingers pressing on top of Nesta's as she attempted to slow the bleeding. Traps, arrows, fighting. . .If she wasn't so paralyzed in fear she might be in awe. The adventure of it all, the excitement. In a book this would be exciting to read, but in life. . Elain wonders if her sisters are just as scared as she is. Elain again tries to smile, offering comfort. "I'll be okay." She repeats, a breathless laugh. "It'll be okay, Nesta"