#themoonlitquill

[themoonlitquill]

literally obsessed w/ how this turned out 🩵

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (2/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; Okay, first of all, you guys are AMAZING. 🥹🩵 Thank you so much for all the love and comments on the first chapter! I honestly didn’t think anyone would like it because of all the incredible Azriel fics out there, but I’m grateful for how well-received it is! I hope you enjoy this just as much! And thank you again to @coffeebooksrain18 for the moodboard. She does an amazing job, so check her out pls!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ; 3633.

The shadow spoke in a breathless whisper, trickling in with the cool breeze of the night, and a hand flew up to her mouth. She held in whatever sound was threatening to burst free and struggled for a minute to remain focused.

I can hear you in my head! Just like I do myself. Oh! Ariadne blinks in a rush, her vision becoming watery. You’re the first voice that I’ve ever heard in my life besides my own! This is incredible! Have I always been able to do this?

Since you were Made.

Does this mean I can talk to anyone now? Ariadne felt like she was going to explode, every one of her limbs trembling as she tried to process exactly what it was that was happening; she could hear - not in a traditional sense, but it was still something - and it was the most exciting thing that she had ever had.

Once you learn.

She supposed that made sense. It would be just like anything else; practice makes perfect and being immortal meant she had nothing but time, right?

Will you… help? Ariadne opens her palm as the shadow circles around before wrapping around her arm. Normally, I’d teach myself but this isn’t exactly the same as what I’ve done in the past. I don’t even know where to start. Does Azriel know you’re here? Did he send you? Does he know too? Does anyone else?

You will be led in the right direction. And no to your other questions.

How did you end up knowing? Especially when no one else did? That was what was bothering her the most. If the shadows were commanded, then why had this one in particular broke away from the rest to come to her?

The shadows gather information from all across Prythian and have come across Daemati before. They are rare, but they are out there. Feyre Cursebreaker is one. We could sense it in you.

Then why wouldn’t Azriel know? Aren’t you supposed to report everything to him?

Not always.

It sounded almost amused at that and Ariadne was beginning to realize that Azriel’s shadows had a mind of their own. Emotion too. That would definitely be something.

But for now, you need to sleep. There are bruises under your eyes.

She rests her other hand in her lap, trailing the tip of her finger along the embroidered filigree. I don’t sleep very well.

You have nightmares.

Her eyes widened a fraction. How did you know that?

When you made the entrance in the wall in your mind, you allowed access to what is inside and everything is chaotic in here. I did not snoop.

A tickling sensation bubbles up in her throat and Ariadne quickly swallows it back down; she didn’t know what her laugh sounded like, so she didn’t do it often. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.

I don’t know why, but I believe you. I’ll… work on the chaos, the corner of her mouth curves upwards, not quite a smile but it was progress. And I’ll try to sleep too. I won’t make any promises though.

Good. Tomorrow, we will go to the library.

Ariadne’s gaze flicks to the closed door and she nibbles on the inside of her lip. Today was the first time she had left this room and now she was going to do it the very next day? Even if - she had to admit - it wasn’t so bad. Nothing horrible happened to her and she had managed to do what she wanted, almost, on her own.

Surely she could make it to the library and back with a similar result.

Alright, she nods. I can do that.

Of course you can. Sleep now.

The shadow’s whisper leaves her mind and she blinks, feeling around at the opalescent wall to see the opening was still there. How could she close it? Think of it molding back, Ariadne takes a breath. Piece by piece until it’s shut.

She grits her teeth with the effort it takes, a bit of sweat forming on her brow as the pressure builds beneath her skull; her breaths were heavier and there was a flash of bright light behind her eyes, yet she continued on until it began to come together.

It wasn’t happening as fast as she would’ve liked and it hurt, but by that damn Cauldron, she was doing it.

And she couldn’t help the glimmer of pride that shone in her when the opening closed completely, leaving only that moonlight glow behind.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The nightmares came as they always did. In flashes of images that she desperately wanted to forget and in bursts of pain that reminded her she had screamed in the water after being thrown in, and there had been no one to hear her as liquid filled her lungs, cutting off her air supply and choking, burning. Too much. It felt like everything was on fire and she was being torched from the inside out.

And she never wanted to feel that ever again.

It also led to her only lightly napping for a couple hours, which did her no good at all, but she was in no position to complain either. Everything had happened so quickly, even if she was sleeping well, it would still take awhile to recover.

At least she tried.

Ariadne had managed to wash up in the bathroom, which actually went better than she thought, and was already dressed, though she didn’t eat. Her appetite could still use some work. None of it was appealing and made her want to vomit, in truth, so that was for another day.

The shadow hadn’t come back yet and it was approaching mid-morning. Did that mean she was expected to go alone? She’d never been there before and sure, the kitchen was easy enough to find, but what if this was harder?

And that means what? That you’re going to quit? You’ve dealt with worse and you can make it to the library on your own, Ariadne stands with a huff and strides over to the door, opening it and walking out to the left instead of the right. See, I can do it myself.

She keeps going with purpose in each step and passes by the doors that housed more bedrooms until she reaches the end of the hall. It curves to the left and she decides to follow it, figuring this was the best option right now.

I wonder if Nesta has at least been reading. I know she’s worried about Elain, but she needs to worry about herself too, Ariadne glances over her shoulder as if she would find the steely-eyed gaze of her sister and is relieved when she doesn’t. Maybe you could bring her some after you’re done.

It would give her a chance to feel some sort of connection back to their old life and what she loved to do.

They all needed that.

Ariadne’s fingers twitch and she takes a breath as she looks up to see a set of double doors, made of some sort of mahogany - she guessed - with iron handles. Hilarious, she rolls her eyes and pulls it open to see inside. Ah-ha! I’m good at this.

She’d found the library.

It smelled like ink and paper with a hint of lemons. And it was cozy too, with overstuffed armchairs and a loveseat arranged around the fireplace, decorative pillows, tables with potted lilies and vines, stacks of notes, plush rugs, and rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

You gotta be kidding me, Ariadne walks over to one of the shelves and runs her fingers over the spines. There has to be hundreds in here. This is insane, she bites her bottom lip. Where do I even start?

She squints at the titles and selects a few that she thought might be useful, along with one or two that just seemed like they would be fun to read. It couldn’t hurt to see what type of fiction was over here in Prythian.

After gathering them all in her arms, Ariadne makes her way over to one of the armchairs and sets the stack of books on the small table beside it. She moves to grab for plain paper and something to write with when a bound leather notebook and a cream colored quill with an inkpot appears right before her eyes.

Just like the orange juice, she sits down and pulls her legs up underneath herself. Amazing, really. I didn’t even have to ask you to do that, the first book she grabs is one about magic and powers of the Fae in Prythian; if any of them would have information about Daemati, this would - probably - be the one.

Ariadne flips it open and runs her finger along the page, finding herself wondering how old it was, how far the history went back. It was truly something to think about.

The seven Courts of Prythian each have a type of magic that is specific to that area and the High Lords are the most powerful, some of them even having additional abilities.

Winter Court Fae have ice manipulation, which also extends to frost and snow.

Autumn Court Fae have fire, able to create and wield flames.

Summer Court Fae control water, forming it into any shape, any size, and will it where they wish.

Spring Court Fae are connected to the earth and air, finding their power in nature and blending into their surroundings.

Dawn Court Fae brings the art of healing, producing some of the greatest Healers in Prythian, talented enough to mend any injury.

Day Court Fae have light and are able to break through darkness, showing the truth. High Lord Helion is known as the Spell-Cleaver.

Night Court Fae controls darkness, bending it to their will and stealing sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell.

Ariadne tilts her head and quickly grabs the notebook and quill, settling the inkpot on the arm of the chair and beginning to jot down notes. She wanted to know everything that she could; Feyre came back with multiple powers after being resurrected and who was to say the same hadn’t happened to her?

She deserved to know that about herself if that were the case.

To control the mind is deadly. If a Fae holds this power and wields it against another, death is certain to follow.

That didn’t seem like something she would be able to do, so maybe it was just the mind reading then? Or rather, Daemati? What was the difference?

Ariadne underlines a few times and turns through the pages in search of the word ‘Daemati’, knowing that there had to be something. Rare or not.

They are called Daemati. This is an exceedingly rare gift that the Mother only hands out to those She chooses. A Fae who has this ability can read, influence, and shatter one’s mind.

Many, especially those in positions of power, learn to train against a Daemati. The methods differ for each Fae and each Court.

So it did mean she would be able to do that. Supposedly. But how? Ariadne wasn’t a violent person and to crush someone’s mind and kill them? There was no way she could ever be capable of something like that.

Not in a million years.

All she wanted was to be able to talk with another person - even if it wasn’t the usual way, who cares? - and then it wouldn’t just be her anymore, which was huge. It was something she had wanted for a long time and she would be a fool not to at least venture into the mind reading portion of it.

And letting in another person like she had managed with the shadow last night.

Ariadne wanted to figure out how, but it seemed that whoever had written this one decided not to give out too much information on the subject. I could ask Rhysand? He’s one, isn’t he? But I have no idea how to ask him and even if I did… I don’t really want to, she frowns.

It can’t be too hard. If a Daemati controls the mind, then I’d need something to protect myself, wouldn’t I? That’s what that wall could’ve been. Think about it, she taps her finger on the page. You had to create an opening for the shadow to get in and be able talk to you, then when it left, you had to close it back.

Her finger moves faster and she sits up a little straighter, writing down a few more notes. That keeps people out, but also lets people in, she dips the end of the quill into the ink. And from what the shadow said, it could see I had nightmares and said it was chaotic, so maybe I have to organize everything and keep certain things locked away. Like in a safe.

The movement of the quill across the paper quickened, putting all Ariadne’s thoughts in black and white, her mind racing with how much she was discovering and absorbing already.

That’ll be hard, considering I’ve never had to worry about anyone being in my head before. Not impossible though, which is good. Where should I start? Raising and lowering the wall? That would be the obvious choice, she places the cap on the inkpot and sets it back on the table, not wanting it to spill. Okay, her eyes fall to a close. Imagine a doorway forming in the light, a big enough space for a person. Just like last time.

She takes a steadying breath with her hands clasped together in her lap, beginning to focus on an entryway and feeling her body shake with the effort; her nails dig into soft flesh and she withholds a wince, knowing that her concentration couldn’t be broken, not when the wall was coming apart little by little.

Come on, come on, Ariadne’s brow furrows and she bites down on the inside of her lip, her breathing slightly quicker and more labored than usual. Almost there. A little more and you got it.

With a final push, the opening appears in the same spot it had before and she very nearly cheers aloud, but quickly decides against it and instead, she gives herself a small pat on the back. Well done, Ari! Again.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

She wasn’t sure how long she spent in the library, a few hours at least, or how long she had been practicing opening and closing the door in her mind, but she was sure that she needed a break. It seemed she had gone too far and exhausted herself even more so than she already was.

Probably not the best idea.

And she realized how deep she had gone with the way her once artfully messy bun was now falling to the nape of her neck, strands of rich brown and caramel frazzled in complete disarray; what a sight she must be.

Ariadne sighs and closes all the books she had read through, stacking them on the table along with the notebook and standing up to stretch herself out. A couple of her joints pop and she makes a face. What time is it? It has to be past lunch, she wiggles her toes against the carpet, thinking for a moment.

You should probably try and eat something. When was the last time you even ate? Do you remember? She couldn’t. It must’ve been when she was still human, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

With a final sigh, Ariadne leaves the library and makes her way back in the direction that she came, knowing that she would be able to find the kitchen again fairly easily. She didn’t really want any food, but it had been awhile and she had to have something eventually, if she didn’t want to waste away to nothing, that is.

She enters the kitchen and finds it empty, as usual, her hands splaying out across the countertop as she mulls over what she might be able to keep down.

Soup, maybe? I won’t have to chew and it sounds less intimidating than anything else, a small hum, followed by honey eyes lifting to gaze at the ceiling. Would you mind getting me some? Tomato, please. Nice and hot.

There’s a shift in the air and in a matter of seconds, a steaming bowl appears in front of her, along with a spoon and a porcelain cup filled with tea; Ariadne offers the smallest hint of a smile. Thank you.

She grabs one of the stools and pulls it over before perching herself on top of it, feet dangling a few feet off the floor as she leans over to take the first spoonful into her mouth. It was smooth and creamy, igniting her tastebuds with the flavor of tomato, basil, and a subtle heat - pepper flake? - that elicited a small groan from her throat.

It was one of the best things she had ever had and she wanted to scold herself for not eating sooner. Better late than never, I suppose. Right?

Ariadne continues to eat, taking a small break in-between bites to add milk and sugar to her tea; she stirs it slowly and taps the spoon lightly on the rim before taking a sip. Her eyelids flutter. Gods, that’s good, she licks her lips and goes back to the soup. I should check on Nesta and Elain after this, shouldn’t I? But what would I be able to do? I still don’t know how to talk to them yet. Maybe waiting would be the smarter decision. I’m sure the last thing Nesta wants to do is read or write anything down.

The youngest Archeron was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the little shadow that had flitted towards her until she felt a cool sensation around her ankle. She looks down and her eyes brighten, immediately working to open the doorway in the shimmering wall of her mind.

It happens fairly quickly, much easier than it had when she first started, and she feels the presence of it enter.

There you are! I thought you said ‘we’ were going to the library.

The shadow wraps tighter around Ariadne’s ankle, its voice still that same breathy whisper. You managed just fine without me. It’s time you realize and accept that you are capable of more than you think.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. How did it know her so well already? It was a bit unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. Then why are you here now? If I can manage so well without you, as you say.

We were worried.

We?

Yes, Ariadne. We.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask more questions, but she also felt that if she were supposed to know, she would’ve been told. She had never been one to pry, always fearing that she would be overstepping somehow.

And even though the shadow wasn’t a real person talking to her, it was all she had right now and she wasn’t about to make it go away by not shutting up when she needed to.

Which is why she chooses to change the subject instead.

I know how to make the entry in the wall and how to close it. I practiced for a few hours. Not perfected, but that should mean I’ll be able to talk to someone else now, yeah? Ariadne feels goosebumps rise on her skin when it moves from her ankle to her calf, then disappearing entirely. Hey! Where did you g-!

The shadow reappears on her shoulder, the end of it looping through her hair and she felt a small vibration in the back of her mind; was it… purring?

No. Surely not. That was ridiculous.

Very good. I am proud of you. And yes, you should try it.

A warmth blossoms in Ariadne’s chest, spreading through her veins and giving her a sense of something akin to happiness. No one had ever been proud of her before. There was never a reason to be and now that there was, she found she liked the feeling.

What else had she missed out on?

Thank you! That’s sweet of you to say and it means a lot actually, her head turns, hand lifting to brush her fingers over the silken shadow. I’m nervous though, she swallows. I don’t know if how I talk in my head is okay for a normal conversation. What if…

She falls silent. What if she sounded… wrong?

What if how she ‘talked’ was silly and amateur? What if she didn’t make sense and confused them? Ariadne thought she sounded alright, but then again, no one could read minds as humans and tell her otherwise; she could come off utterly ridiculous for all she knew.

Do not think that way about yourself, the shadow’s whisper had changed, now holding a slight edge to its words and she couldn’t help but wonder why. You have a brilliant mind and what you are lacking does not take away from that in any way.

Ariadne blinks, caught off guard and momentarily rendered speechless. It was strange; it almost seemed… upset with her, which didn’t make sense. Why would it be when it barely knew her? Either she was predictable or more had been seen last night than what was admitted.

I just don’t want to be… foolish, her tone had lowered, now a whisper of her own, though it was meek and not at all like how she normally was. I’ve only ever talked to myself and how would I know what I’m going to sound like to another person?

No way to know unless you try.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites .

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (1/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; I’m terrible at summaries, so please don’t hate me for that! This is an OC that I’ve been playing around with for literal ages and I finally made the choice to really dive in and develop her, and then the ideas just started flowing in and I couldn’t stop writing! I’m already working on a second chapter for this, but let me know your thoughts if you’d like to see this continued! I don’t post my writing too often, so be kind if you don’t mind!! Oh, && special thanks to @coffeebooksrain18 for the moodboard! 🩵 Enjoy!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ; 3802.

Everything is different now, Ariadne Archeron blinks as she looks out the window to the clear skies of robin’s egg blue with rays of sunlight streaming through to cast a golden hue that emitted warmth and yet, she had never felt so cold, so empty. Her mind was spinning around in circles, jumping from thought to thought, never settling and making her skin itch with such an intensity that she had to refrain herself from digging her nails in and ripping flesh from bone.

It was all wrong. Every single bit of it. And she couldn’t understand what was going on and why she was feeling this way.

The simple answer was because she had been thrown into a massive pot that stripped her humanity from her without consent and replaced it with immortality, which was something she had only wondered about in the stories that Elain used to show her as a little girl; she never imagined that it would come true and become her life.

Feyre had accepted being Made into High Fae graciously, almost eagerly, while Nesta seethed and resented, focusing her pent up emotions into care and concern for Elain. That left Ariadne to deal with it alone and if she were to be honest with herself, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

She was broken, lost, and confused, nearly a shell of her former self. How was she to handle this? What was she to do? There wasn’t a set of rules for something like this and there was no one to turn to for advice, not that she could anyway with her inability to speak.

It seemed that magic couldn’t heal everything.

Ariadne had been born deaf and could only communicate through gestures and looks, which made everything that much harder for her compared to her sisters. She couldn’t get her mouth to form the words that ran rampant in her head, not that she didn’t try, and eventually, she gave up, coming to the realization that what she so desperately wanted to say would never be heard by anyone other than herself.

She had never felt sorry about her ailment before, knowing that Nesta understood when she was irritated by the way her eyes narrowed with a hand placed defiantly on her hip and that Elain knew when she needed a moment away from their father when a frustrated huff emitted from her nose, followed with the incessant picking at the skin around her fingernails.

And Feyre, well, she was able to decipher what Ariadne wanted before she even did.

But it was different now. It wasn’t the same and the changes she was going through had to be dealt with, with no help from anyone. It wasn’t fair.

She wanted to scream and yell and cry and throw things, but she couldn’t, and if she could, she wouldn’t want to. That wasn’t who she was and it definitely wasn’t how she acted when life didn’t go the way she wished for it to. Instead, Ariadne kept it hidden away from prying eyes and suffered in silence, because that’s what this all was.

Suffering.

Agony.

Without any end in sight.

Ariadne works to swallow the dry lump that had formed in her throat and she withholds a wince, knowing that she needed something to drink and she was already dreading the fact that she’d have to leave the bit of safety in the room, that was now hers, to go get it.

Unless she wanted to stick her mouth under the faucet again and she most definitely did not.

Downstairs it is, she gnaws on the inside of her lower lip until she tastes the unmistakable tang of copper on her tongue, the nerves already setting in. You can do this, Ari. Just stand up and walk. It isn’t that hard, her fingers clenched into a fist, nails biting into her palm. Get UP! Get up, get up, get up!

Why couldn’t she move? What was wrong with her?

Ariadne sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment, then releases, her eyelids fluttering as she struggles to keep herself composed. The tears were right there and there was no way she would allow them to fall; she had to be strong like Feyre would be, not letting anything knock her down, and if it did, she’d get back up to try again. She could do that, couldn’t she?

It’ll be quick. Start with putting your feet on the floor. That’s easy enough to do, she reopens her eyes and stares straight ahead for several minutes, working on keeping each breath steady. On the count of three… One, her skin prickles, but she manages to sit up straight, legs unfolding. Two, sweat forms on her brow as she moves her feet to hover over the carpet. Three!

The distance closes and she freezes when she feels the plush material against her skin, finding that it was kind of… nice. See, not so bad, right? One thing at a time. You can do that no problem.

A small bit of confidence surges through her and she quickly rests her arms on either side of the chair, bracing herself before pushing herself up; her knees wobble and her brow furrows, but Ariadne - more determined than she realized - finds her balance and straightens, taking a deep breath in order to calm down a little.

Hey! Look at that. You did it, there’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, which she dutifully ignores. Now, another deep breath. Start walking, was it too soon to do this? It had only been a week since- Don’t go there, Ari. You’re doing so well. You aren’t there anymore. You’re fine, she lifts her chin and turns towards the door. Go on, she takes a step.

Ariadne keeps going, one foot at a time, and becomes more steady, making her way across the - her - room to the door and stopping to stand in front of it. Her hand wrapped around the handle, halfway turned, but she froze again. Completely immobile. Why was her heart beating so quickly? This wasn’t normal. It made no sense to feel like this and she couldn’t find a way to understand it, which was incredibly frustrating.

It’s good that you want to see something else besides these same four walls. Nothing wrong with that. No one is even going to be out there, she turns it the rest of the way. Nesta is with Elain, and Feyre, her heart clenches painfully. Feyre isn’t here right now, so you’re going to have to do this yourself, she pulls and it opens. There you go.

Ariadne peers out into the hall and looks down both ends, not seeing anything other than the rest of the doors, all closed, and the sconces that emitted a warm light. She slips through and begins to walk, her feet padding softly against the floor and she was hoping that the kitchen was in this direction or else she was going to be wandering around for a while; the House of Wind was huge.

She continues on with her hands clasped together in front of her, the pad of her thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the top and she can’t help but look around, never having seen anything like it before. Not even Archeron Estate. The amount of money that Rhysand had to build something like this? He must’ve grown up rich. Her gaze roams over the intricate carvings on the large columned archways, head tilted in quiet admiration. They were pretty.

The hallway comes to a set of stairs, only four, and Ariadne pauses before taking each one down to find a kitchen to the left that led to what she assumed was the dining room, and held a grand table in the center with multiple high-backed chairs.

Yeah, definitely rich from birth, she walks further in and flicks her eyes over the cabinets, realizing that she had no clue where anything was. Look through all of them. It isn’t going to matter anyway, she reaches up on her tip-toes and her fingertips barely brush against the handle. Oh, great, she sighs. Where’s a ladder when you need one?

She notes the sink only a few inches away and she moves to crouch down in front, beginning to search through and eventually coming up empty. Please don’t tell me I have to climb on a counter, Ariadne stands back up straight. Again, there was really no other way, was there? Of course not.

Her brow furrows as she surveys the correct way to do it without getting hurt, knowing that no one was there to help if things went awry; she finally settles on using the shelf that went across the middle of the bottom cabinet to use to give her a boost and then she’d be able to get her leg up by bracing her weight against the wall.

It seemed simple enough.

After getting into position, Ariadne takes a breath and places her hand to the left as she pushes her foot against the shelf. She grunts from the effort to lift her leg, managing to get her knee onto the counter and use what strength she had to pull the rest of herself on top.

She grasps at the handle on the cabinet to steady herself before she adjusts her knees and leans over a little to open it, only to find plates. An annoyed huff makes her nostrils flare and she carefully shuts it. I should’ve just drank from the faucet again, her arm extends and her fingers wrap around the next handle as she moves over. This is way too much to do for a cup, she keeps her spine straight and prays to whatever higher power hailed over Prythian that this was the right one.

Ariadne pulls, and she doesn’t notice the fabric of her dress shift or when she starts to slide; she peeks inside and her eyes brighten when she sees what she had been hoping for. Yes!

Her body goes to lean like she had done a couple minutes ago and her knees give out from under her, a surprised sound leaving her lips as her other arm flails, unable to find anything to hold onto. No!

Everything went sideways and Ariadne began to fall, the top of her foot hitting the edge of the counter and she hisses through her teeth, eyes squeezing shut and bracing for the impact of her body against the tiled floor. But it never came. There was something looped around her waist, cool and soft, flowing like silk and holding with a gentleness that she had never felt before. What is it? Where did it come from?

Whatever it was had decided to turn her upright and place her down safely, which is when she decided to open her eyes; the first thing noticed were the wings, massive and actually really beautiful, but holding a power that matched that of the one, two, three, four… seven siphons, which reminded her of sapphires, and then it was the deep bronze skin that was littered with dirt, grime, and only the Gods knew what else, followed by a tousle of dark hair, slightly curly.

Though, what Ariadne noticed the most was the golden glow that faded into hazel. There was a mixture of guardedness, curiosity, and worry - maybe? - swirling within the shifting shades of green and brown, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust it. Azriel, I think. The other one is who Nesta can’t stand. Cassian? This is the… Spysinger, her lips pressed together. No, that isn’t right. Oh! Shadowmaster. Yeah, that makes more sense.

She blinks and realizes that she had been staring at him for longer than she should’ve and quickly refocuses to see that he had come around from the other side of the counter to stand a few feet away from her.

It looked like the Shadowmaster had been in a few fights and then slept on the ground afterwards, which was weird to her because she swore Cassian was the aggressive one. Never judge a book, Ari. People look at you and think you’re not capable of anything or that you’re stupid, she lifts her chin and finds that she could now only see his chest when she did that, so she tilts her head back further until she finds his face again.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Azriel watches in silence as the youngest Archeron sister - Ariadne - nearly breaks her neck in order to meet his gaze, the warm honey of her eyes full of questions, trepidation, and a sadness that was trying to hide itself and he was certain it was much larger than what he already caught. He found himself wishing he could ask her about it, but that was impossible for two important reasons; one, Azriel didn’t do things like that and two, even if he did, Ariadne wouldn’t be able to hear him.

And who was to say that if she could, she would answer?

He resorts to raising a single brow, inclining his head towards the counter as he keeps his sights set on her, surveying her expression for the slightest change; it starts with a flicker of surprise before shifting to neutral and she nods, the smallest of sighs emitting from her parted lips and she glances at the still open cabinet that held the cups, then tapping her fingers at the base of her throat.

Ah, he steps forward and reaches inside to grab one, lowering it down and handing it to her. There’s a moment of hesitation, though it doesn’t seem to be an aversion to him. It was more so of someone unsure how to accept help when they had been doing everything without it for a long time. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?

The ever-present shadows that swirled around Azriel became tense at the thought and he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind to be locked away.

Now wasn’t the time.

Ariadne was staring at the glass and he realized that she had no idea that the House of Wind would provide anything she wanted. After all, how was she going to know anything about a world she had been thrown into? Stories that passed over to the human lands weren’t always accurate.

Will you- He hears a quiet gasp and he cuts himself off, attention snapping back to the small Fae in front of him that was watching as… orange juice filled to the brim. Apparently, she figured it out a lot quicker than he thought she would. The corner of his mouth twitches. Smart girl.

Azriel takes a couple steps back and leans his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest with his wings tucked behind. Ariadne turns her head and blinks at him, observing his position before giving a single dip of her chin and he had a feeling that it was her way of saying ‘thank you.’

He returns the gesture and she begins to walk by, more than likely heading back to her room, and that’s when he smells it; cherry blossoms. It was sweet and soft, hints of creamy vanilla bean and almond with a warmth that made him want to reach out and touch her.

It’s his turn to blink now and he waits for Ariadne to pass before he looks over his shoulder, hazel returning to that golden hue as she makes her way back up the steps and disappears down the hall. His shadows begin curling around his neck and ears, whispering to him in cool breaths, some louder than others.

She is special. Yes, special. And alone. Afraid. She is lost. No way to understand. She cannot ask. She wants to understand. Must help her understand. Yes. Help her.

Azriel gives a small tug and they fall silent, though they flick against his skin in protest and to show their evident distaste for his dismissal. He rolls his eyes with a heavy exhale, giving his head a shake before he pushes himself away from the counter and disappears into the same temperamental darkness that matched that of himself.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne was unsure how to feel about her brief interaction with Azriel; he understood what she’d been trying to do and had even helped her, which was odd for her, but it made him better than most people she had met. He didn’t invade her personal space either, didn’t try to do anything at all that would make her the slightest bit uncomfortable.

In fact, he seemed to be a fairly decent male. She couldn’t remember a single instance over the few times she had been around him - even as a human - where he had ever acted out or caused any sort of problem. And if he did, she had an inkling that it would have to be over something important.

Her eyes lifted to the window and found that the sun had set, painting the sky in magenta and lavender with bursts of burnt orange and yellow; it reminded her of something that Feyre might like to recreate on canvas. There’s a sharp pang in the center of her heart at the thought of her sister and she winces, reaching up to rub the spot with her hand.

It was hard without Feyre. Yes, Nesta and Elain were there, but they were handling being Made even worse than Ariadne was. At least she had left the room. Granted, it was only once and she wasn’t gone for that long. It was still more than what they were doing.

And that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Ariadne had been the closest with Feyre, in age and in every other way. They were inseparable and a lot of love was shared between the two of them, along with a deep-rooted loyalty and respect for who they each were. And now? She felt like she was missing a vital piece of herself that she didn’t know how to get back and the longer the stretch of days went on, the more painful it got.

She picks at the skin around her nails and shifts her gaze to the floor, not wanting to think about any of this anymore. That was the thing about having no way to talk to someone; she tended to inner-monologue and go too into detail about things, overwhelming herself until she disassociated from it all.

Not the best solution, but it worked for her.

A flicker of movement in the corner catches her attention and she zeroes in on it, eyes narrowing slightly. Don’t tell me this place has ghosts now, Ariadne stands, noting how it was darker than it should’ve been with the way the light was streaming in. Because I will find a way to get out of here. There can’t be that many stairs.

She takes a couple steps forward, head tilted with curiosity and a bit of fear if it was actually a ghost. Whatever you are, I’m not going to hurt you, so that means you can’t hurt me either. That’s how this works.

The unknown something moves again, causing a shift in the air that her new Fae eyes are able to detect; it looked like smoke, though more refined and smooth, shimmering with an iridescence that reminded her of the stars. She reaches out. What are you?

It slithers forward and Ariadne watches as it brushes against one of her fingers, almost as if it were curious about her too, and that’s when she feels that same softness that had been around her waist earlier, silken and surprisingly strong.

You’re one of Azriel’s shadows, it curls around her finger and Ariadne hums. What are you doing here? Did he send you?

The shadow moves further up until it’s wrapped around her wrist, the end curled between her fingers and she feels something push at the back of her skull. It didn’t hurt, but it was strange; it sort of felt like someone was trying to fit the wrong key into a lock.

Ariadne keeps her eye on the shadow and takes a breath. Are you trying to get in? Feyre mentioned that before, but I can’t remember what it’s called. It’s mind reading though, isn’t it? Are you saying I can do it too?

There’s an instantaneous pressure around her wrist and she sucks in another breath. Okay, that’s… Okay, her brow furrows; how did the shadow know before she did? Was it because of Azriel being their master? But then that would mean he would know too, wouldn’t he? And he had never given any inclination that he did, so how?

She wished she knew all of the information that Feyre had given back when she first showed them that she was High Fae. Ariadne could read, some, from the few books Nesta was able to get when they lived in the small cottage and then even more so when their father had suddenly been offered a business deal that made them wealthy again, not that she remembered any of that part of their life, and was given lessons; she didn’t like them and proceeded to have a glare off with her eldest sister until it was made clear that there would be no changing her mind.

Ariadne would teach herself.

And reading turned into writing.

But it had been slow going at first and when Feyre had arrived with Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian, she had only gotten so far and there was some of it that had been written down that she either got mixed up or couldn’t remember at all. It was all bits and pieces.

The tightening around her wrist draws her attention back to the present and she shakes her head. Right. Focus, Ari. If the shadow is trying to tell me what I think it is, I have to try, don’t I?

Ariadne closes her eyes and recedes back into her mind, maneuvering through the jumbled mess of thoughts before she comes across an opalescent wall, shimmering with a moonlight glow and she couldn’t help but think how pretty it was. Why had she never noticed this before? Her head tilts and she probes further, searching for some way to open it.

It brushed softly against her just as the shadow did and she gave an instinctive squeeze in return before the wall of light brightened, beginning to shake and shift, soon revealing a small entryway for a single person to get through. She gasps.

Whoa! How did I do that? Ariadne opens her eyes and looks down to see the little thing was weaving between her fingers. Can you hear me now?

Yes.

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (6/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; HI. I meant to post this yesterday (like I did last week don’t hate me pls) but I didn’t like where I originally ended it so I revised and ta-daaa! 🪄 This one was a very fun one to write! It was going one direction and then ended up somewhere else, which I LOVED. And I hope you do too! 🩵 Alsooooo, the next chapter is already in the works and let’s just say I am STOKED for it. 🤩 Hehe. ENJOY!!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗡𝗼𝗻𝗲??? 𝗢𝗺𝗴 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲???

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 3553.

“The key to being a Daemati is discretion,” Rhysand stood in front of Ariadne, only a few feet away, with a rather serious expression in place. It was clear that what he was about to teach was important, no nonsense to be found, and she found herself thoroughly engaged. “Once you find your in, the last thing you want is to be discovered. It could be catastrophic otherwise, especially since you’re new at it.”

Her hands were clasped together behind her back, lips pursed. “That makes sense, but wouldn’t they be able to feel me enter somehow?”

“Not necessarily,” he picks a piece of lint off his sleeve. “When you’re in complete control and know what you’re doing, there’s nothing to be felt. Although,” the violet of his eyes were gleaming. “It also depends on if they’ve been trained against Daemati powers and if they have… it can be more complicated.”

“So there is a chance that I could be found out?” Ariadne frowns. “What do I have to do to prevent that?”

The High Lord smirks. “I’m so glad that you asked, littlest Archeron. That’s exactly what we’re going to work on today.”

“I have a name, you know,” her eyes were now narrowed into slits, annoyance set into the hard line of her mouth. “Use it.”

“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?” Rhys chuckles under his breath. “Reminds me of Feyre.”

She swallows dryly, a pang hitting her chest. “I don’t want to talk about my sister with you.”

His shoulders lifted slightly and she had a feeling he had sighed, more than likely frustrated by the way she had shot him down. Not my problem. I don’t trust him. I don’t know if I trust any of them.

Ariadne takes a breath, the pain receding to a dull ache, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the pointed tip more prominent now. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to them. “Where do we start?”

The smirk diminishes as he straightens and it amazed her at how quickly he was able to switch from one emotion to another. It was almost too easy for him, which was a conundrum in itself. “Close your eyes.”

She hesitates for a moment, unsure, but obeys nonetheless.

“Now,” his tone is softer, more coaxing, like cool water flowing down a stream. “Picture a door. It can be any color, any shape, any size. Just be sure to put all of your focus on it.”

Slowly, Ariadne begins to conjure up what he had asked, allowing her subconscious to make the decisions for her; polished wood - ebony? - that was slightly worn with age, large enough for a grown person to fit through, and its handle curved into the shape of a crescent moon. She doesn’t know why, only that it felt right.

“Good,” Rhys hums approvingly. Could he see it too? It wouldn’t surprise her if he did. “The door isn’t yours, remember that, it belongs to someone else. Think of the mind as a house, full of locked rooms that hold a plethora of secrets.”

She gives a subtle nod, finding herself grateful for the way he was explaining things. Magic was a completely foreign concept to her and having powers, even more so. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t be able to figure it out if he approached it differently, but she’d rather it be done this way. Much easier.

A strange sensation brushed against the door then. It reminded her of nails scratching, not entirely unpleasant, though not comfortable either. There was an awareness that came with it, some sort of pressure, and she couldn’t help wondering exactly what it was.

“Do you feel that?” She nods again. “That’s me. I’m allowing you to sense that I’m trying to get in,” there’s a shift in the air and all of a sudden it disappears. “And now you can’t feel me anymore, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The goal isn’t to use brute strength, even though there will come a time when that’s necessary,” he pauses. “But for now, it’s about slipping through the cracks. There’s always a way in, Ariadne. Even if you don’t see it at first. Some houses leave windows left open, while others have weak locks. Sometimes there’s too many doors, which leads to things left unnoticed. Don’t force it. Follow your instincts and feel for the gaps.”

Ariadne exhales, finding her center where she stood and reaching out tentatively; it felt like her own opalescent barriers, though this time, it was extending towards the door she had created, moving along the outer edges in search of a way in.

Her brow draws together, coming up empty handed and leading to her releasing a frustrated huff. “I don’t- Wait!”

The shimmery mist gathers along the bottom left corner, probing at the wood and that’s when she feels it. A small hairline fracture, barely there, but it was possible, and that was all she needed. “I found it,” her tone was hushed, full of awe. Truthfully, she hadn’t put much stock into this and now she was a believer.

Rhys smiles. “Try to get through without me feeling you. I’ll wait.”

She takes a breath and holds it before pushing forward, allowing herself to slip into the crack, trying to be mindful of how much pressure she was putting behind it and there’s a whisper in the back of her thoughts, reminding her to be stealthy, as fleeting as a shadow. Her nails dig into the skin of her palms, teeth clenched, and she focuses on thinning out, bleeding through to the other side inch by inch.

“There you go. That’s it,” he encourages, watching her with a keen gaze that holds something akin to amazement, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her tenacity. “I can feel you, but just barely. If you keep practicing, I won’t be able to at all, which is saying something.”

Ariadne finally opens her eyes and she feels… accomplished. It wasn’t anything major - yet - and she still had work to do - a lot - and despite that, she had done it. There was progress made and she couldn’t help in feeling more determined than ever. This bit of success had served to further prove that she could do this, that she wasn’t going to be stuck, and she relished in it.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

As it turned out, Rhysand was a pretty good teacher. He was patient and explained things well, gave her praise when she earned it and corrected her when she made a mistake, though it wasn’t harsh, more on the constructive side than belittling her like she had expected. It was… nice, and she had learned enough to begin practicing on her own before they would eventually move to the next lesson.

There was no way she was ready for the whole ‘shattering minds’ aspect of it, but maybe Azriel had been right. It would be smart for her to at least know how to do it. Just in case.

And speaking of the elusive Shadowsinger…

Ariadne tilts her head, honey brown eyes roaming over bronze skin and swirls of black ink that adorned his upper arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. How many does he have? She wanted to ask and managed not to, especially after how he had reacted yesterday. Why did he leave like that? He owes an explanation. It was rude. If he doesn’t want to be around me, he should be an adult and say that. Are all Illyrians complete dicks?

She huffs and strides into the kitchen with purpose, dead set on confronting him and giving him a piece of her mind when he looks up, gold seeming to brighten, and causes her to falter, suddenly feeling warm all over.

“Hi.”

Azriel raises a single brow and she notes that he had stiffened, shoulders tense and shadows flitting about almost anxiously. “Hi.”

“How was your day?”

He balks. “My day?”

An uncharacteristic snort emits from her. “Yes, your day. It’s called having a conversation. You should try it. Unless you plan on leaving again without a reason why?”

Guilt flashes across his face and she places her hands on her hips expectantly. “I’m sorry.”

She softens. A little. “You shouldn’t have done it. If I do something to offend you, I’d much rather you tell me than running off and making me wonder what the hell it was I did. I’m a big girl, Azriel. I can handle the truth.”

He observes her silently for a moment. “I know you can.”

“Don’t do it again. Please,” she adds. “I want to be your friend and you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Friends,” his jaw clenches and her head tilts curiously. Did he not want that? “Okay then. My day was… alright.”

Maybe he did. “Just alright? What did you do?”

“Trained with Cass.”

“What kind of training?”

“Hand to hand mostly,” he relaxes, slightly, some of the tension lifting. “Some flight maneuvers here and there.”

Ariadne perks up at that and leans against the counter, glancing at his wings briefly. “Did you ask him to race?”

“It may have come up.”

“And?”

“He agreed.”

“Oh, how exciting! When can we do it?”

“Whenever you want,” Azriel’s gaze intensifies and she feels heat creep up her neck. Why was he looking at her like that? “As the unbiased judge, we thought it only fair for you to be the one to choose.”

She hums. “Well, in that case, how about the end of the week? It’s only a few days away and it’ll give me time to write out a scorecard.”

“A scorecard?”

“Yes. It can’t just be based on how fast you are. That wouldn’t be as fun.”

He seems to think it over, lips twitching. “What are the other categories other than speed?”

“I can’t tell you that. Cassian isn’t going to get an advantage, why should you?” Ariadne raises an inquisitive brow, engaging in a silent challenge. “What’s fair is fair.”

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“No,” she releases an exaggerated sigh. “I’m afraid your skill will have to speak for itself.”

Azriel’s shoulders shake as his mouth curves up into a smile, the smallest hint of a dimple appearing and she finds herself fascinated by it, gaze zeroing in as her body leans over the counter. She wanted to see if he had another on the other side, but it was gone before she could ask.

She chews on the inside of her lower lip, suddenly finding herself at a loss for words; it seemed that happened a lot when she was around the Shadowsinger and she didn’t know why. It was like she had a million different things to say and couldn’t figure out how to string them in the right order to keep the conversation going.

It also didn’t help that she held a fear of him leaving again because she did something wrong that she was unaware of.

How was she supposed to navigate this?

Her mouth opens and then closes, brow furrowing, and she could see the shadows swirling about languidly, some slithering towards her and she wanted to touch them, wanted to touch him.

Wait, what? Ariadne shakes her head and resumes her incessant biting. Don’t do that. If you’ve learned anything, it’s that he’s an obvious flight risk.

Azriel watches silently and she had this weird feeling that he knew what she was thinking somehow. “They like you.”

She blinks. “Who?”

The shadows move closer and his head inclines slightly. “Them.”

Where had that come from? Their conversation in the library replays in her mind. He had pulled them away from her like it - she - was some sort of issue and now he was finally acknowledging it? It made no sense. Like everything else around here, she sighs.

“Maybe I’m better company than you are.”

His eyes widen a fraction and a low rumble reverberates in the back of her skull, warm and all-consuming. It sent tingles down the length of her spine and there was no doubt that it was a laugh. She was certain. Azriel was laughing. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Cassian was massive.

She had met him before and yet, she didn’t remember him being this big. It was sort of… intimidating. He looked like he could throw her through a wall and not even break a sweat. Her lips curve slightly at that. It was certainly entertaining to think about.

He stood next to Azriel and there was a shit-eating grin on his face, which only seemed to annoy the Shadowsinger and it was obvious that she was missing something.

But what?

Ariadne observes Cassian with interest, wondering how different he was from the others. He had to be a force or else he wouldn’t be the… What was his title? Lord of… Something, she tilts her head with a curious expression. Lord of Illyrians? What in the name of the stupid Cauldron was it?

She flicks her gaze to Azriel, silent questions in honey brown, and he elbows Cassian, chin dipping towards her and she wished more than anything that she knew them well enough to know exactly what they were saying without saying it.

“So, you can’t hear at all?”

A dark shadow passes over Azriel’s face that she chooses to ignore, mostly, and she shakes her head. “Not in the traditional sense. I mostly go by touch and sight.”

“That’s gotta be a pain in the ass.”

Ariadne fights a smile. Oh, I like him, she steps forward, eyes roaming leisurely. “Believe it or not, you get used to it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Cassian looks down at her with amusement. “You’re really tiny.”

She scoffs, hands moving to rest on her hips. “You don’t miss much,” her neck tilts back in time with her perusal. “Which is surprising considering I didn’t think you’d be able to see from all the way up there.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’ve got my vote.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Azriel rolls his eyes, arms moving to cross over his chest. “Ignore him. I do.”

“It’s impossible to ignore me,” Cassian interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s cranky and needs a nap.”

Ariadne nearly laughed at that and it was a bit of a surprise at how comfortable she was with him already. Rhysand, she was still wary of, and Azriel… well, she wasn’t quite sure what she felt where he was concerned, but Cassian? He was a breath of fresh air and she liked that he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. She thought they might end up being fast friends, which she was in no position to say no to.

“Or maybe you just get on his nerves.”

His grin widens - if that was even possible - and catches the small chuckle from Azriel, the rare sound a surprise and he found himself stunned for a moment; his brother could deny it as much as he wanted, but it was evident that there was something there and it pained him that he couldn’t speak on it, not unless he wished to come to blows and the last time that happened, it hadn’t ended well.

“She has a point,” the Shadowsinger gives Cassian a knowing look, who huffs in return. “I’ve never heard any complaints,” he focuses back on the youngest Archeron. “I could never. He loves me too much.”

Her eyes rolled, though there was no malice, only a subtle fondness that softened her features. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” a small hum emits from her throat. “Have either of you decided what you want the prize to be if you win the race?”

“I’ve been waiting for this!” Cassian claps his hands together, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Oh, right,” he smiles sheepishly at Ariadne. “Sorry, this’ll take some getting used to. Anyway,” he perks back up. “I’ve been thinking that since you’ve shown so much interest in flying… That the winner gets to take you for the first time.”

Azriel tenses and so do his shadows. “Absolutely not.”

He ignores him, practically giddy, and continues on without missing a beat. “Az told me about this scorecard you’re making and since you’re the one judging, it makes sense for the winner to be the one to do it. You know,” Cassian’s grin returns. “Safety and all.”

“I said no,” Azriel bites out, jaw hard. Was he out of his mind?

“I like that idea,” Ariadne had noted the Spymaster’s reaction and it was the ten-thousandth thing that she added to the ‘makes no sense’ pile. “But instead of just going for a flight, why not make it more interesting?” There’s a brief silence and she took that as her sign that they were agreeing with her. “I want to go down to the city and explore. I’m sick of being in this house, no offense,” she glances up at the ceiling before returning to the two Illyrians. “I need to get out and the winner gets to be my escort slash tour guide.”

“Excellent!” Cassian pats Azriel on the shoulder. “I bet you’ll make sure you win now,” he winks playfully at the little Fae. “You’ve got yourself a deal!”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

You are excited.

Ariadne looks down at the shadow encircled around her wrist, eyes brightening. Hi! Long time, no see! Wait, how can you tell I’m excited?

You wear your emotions plainly, it tightens its grip in a quick squeeze. It is easy to tell.

I never really noticed, she gives a half-shrug. But you’re right, I have something to look forward to at the end of the week. I get to fly to the city!

Velaris.

Yes, Velaris, her eyes move to the open archway across the room. I’ll be out of this house for the first time since that damn Cauldron and be around other people and check the shops and see that pretty river and be normal.

It was all she wanted; to have the opportunity to venture out and be a part of something instead of locked away in a hypothetical tower - that was actually a magic house - away from curious glances and speculation. Though, she found she didn’t care what the reaction would be to her, only that she was finally going to be free, even if it was just for a little while.

Who are you going with?

She blinked down at the shadow, watching it shimmer as it flowed around her wrist. They really were beautiful. Oh, I don’t know yet. I’ll find out at the end of the race in a couple days.

It is your decision who wins, is it not?

Yeah, it is, Ariadne hums and ghosts her fingertips over the sleek obsidian. Why was it so important? Why had Azriel said no? She had caught that - despite her lack of skill in that department - and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. I want it to be fair, though. That’s why I made the scorecards. I split it into different categories.

You made a scorecard?

She huffs, not liking the fact that it felt like it was laughing at her. What was the big damn deal? It was the perfect way to judge!

Yes, that way I can take into account a few other things needed to win a race other than speed.

Such as?

Agility, form, and endurance, she raises a single brow, daring the shadow to tease her again. It doesn’t just take being the fastest. What about the air currents? The way they extend their wings and how far? What if something gets in their way and they have to go around it?

Like what?

What kind of a question was that? Ariadne throws her hand up, a second huff emitting from her lips, though more exasperated this time. I don’t know! A tree?

A tree in the middle of the sky?

Are you serious right now? I don’t know how high they’ll be flying!

It would have to be a very tall tree, the breathy whisper was lighter and she realized then that it was laughing at her. What a beastly little thing! She wanted to flick it.

I’m not talking to you anymore if you’re going to keep making fun of my scorecard!

Me? Making fun? Never.

She releases a frustrated sound and flicks it, eyes narrowed. Be nice!

Says the one who just wounded me.

Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re fine, she rolls her eyes, but carefully rubs a small circle with her thumb, slow and soothing. I thought it was a good idea. There isn’t much to do around here, so I figured I’d go all in.

The shadow wraps around her forearm and squeezes, the temperature cool against her skin. It is. Your mind is fascinating and I enjoy seeing how you respond to things.

So that’s what that was? Ariadne purses her lips, watching as it moves further up until it’s on her shoulder and twirling through her hair. It seemed to like it there the best. What a weird way to go about it.

Not weird at all, little moon. You will soon see.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm , @kabekusa , @fr0stf4ll .

[themoonlitquill]

extended ending to provider by sleep token.

rosemont, il. 9/28/25. 🖤

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (7/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; HELLO I AM ALIVE!!!! 🙌🏼 I am so sorry (again) about this taking me so long to update! I hit a whole ass brick wall with this chapter for a hot minute, but then I was like ???? why, just WRITE it girl!! So this is the result and I hope you all like it. 🥺 I will also, hopefully, get on a somewhat decent posting schedule and have a masterlist coming! ENJOY!! 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗡𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸??? 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹???? 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗶𝗳 𝘀𝗼.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4799.

The end of the week was finally here.

Ariadne could hardly contain herself, far too antsy to keep focus on anything for too long, which put a damper on her Daemati practice and she felt a split second of guilt before realizing that she had every right to be excited about this. There was little to nothing to do in the House of Wind and whatever there was to do, she’d done it already. Mostly.

And there was no denying that what she looked forward to above all else was the fact that no matter the result, she was getting out. It was a constant that replayed in her mind over and over since the terms had been set. How could she not be eager? The anticipation made her buzz, nearly leaping out of her skin at the mere thought of seeing so many new things.

She remembered that Feyre had written ‘City of Starlight’ back at Archeron Estate and she wanted to know if it was like what she envisioned in her head. It’s probably better, her lips twitch. You’ll find out soon, don’t worry. Patience is a virtue, right?

Although, it was apparent that playing the waiting game was a lot harder than she assumed it’d be. She should’ve known better, considering the fixation she had on it.

“Ariadne,” it flowed in like a cool breeze, spreading to every corner in her mind, consuming yet emanating a softness that was somehow silken and rich; goosebumps rose on the surface of her skin, a small breath catching in her throat, and she slowly turns to look over her shoulder. Golden hazel is the only thing she sees and there was a realization at how devastatingly gorgeous the Shadowsinger was. It was strange to her because she had been around him plenty of times by now and all of a sudden it was as if she hadn’t really looked before.

“Azriel,” she watches as his shadows curl around his ears, trailing down his neck. They reminded her of rolling waves, the gentle kind, right as the sun rises and everything begins to wake up. She was utterly fascinated by them and if the blasted male would stay put, she would already be touching to find out if they all felt the same. “You’re up early.”

He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed lazily, with a rather hushed expression, eyes never straying. “I like to watch when the moon and the sun are visible at the same time. I’ve only ever seen it here in Night Court,” his wings shift, shadows coiled to his shoulders. “Rhys’ mom always told us it was their time to talk since they were in love with each other and were forced to be separated. I thought it was unfair and it’s stuck with me all these years, so I’m usually the first one awake.”

It was a beautiful tragic thing to think about and Ariadne found herself curious, not to mention - secretly - thrilled that he was initiating the conversation instead of her. She turns to face him fully, head tilted. “Why’d you think it was unfair?”

“I didn’t like that they were only allowed to be together once a day. If they were supposed lovers, I think they should have as much time as they want,” his tone was almost wistful, a gentle caress, and she wondered if this was part of the real him, seeping through and giving her a taste of what was underneath. “Having that level of control over someone isn’t okay with me.”

It didn’t sit well with her either.

For an entirely different reason that tugged at her heart.

“They’re together twice,” she resists the urge to rub away the ache, wishing to know why it bothered her so badly. “At dusk before sunset. The moon appears and gets to watch the sun when it’s most beautiful. All those colors,” a soft hum vibrates in her throat as the throbbing dulls. “The sun would see the moon start to gleam just before disappearing behind the horizon and when they meet again, the moon would know exactly what the sun thought about its light.”

Ariadne’s lips curve, honey swirling and warm, the steady beat nearly unnoticeable and Azriel was frozen, enraptured by the whisper of her words and the small crinkle in her left eye, subtle but there. His shadows drift towards her and he doesn’t have the mind to draw them back, which seems to further encourage them to move closer, and he takes a breath. He was amazed at her mind already, but this was something else.

“I like that,” she blinks and he watches blush tint her cheeks, making a light batch of freckles appear, sprinkled across like stardust. He exhales. “You’re so…” the word stalls on his tongue, brow twitching. It was what he had said to himself a thousand times and for some reason, he wasn’t sure if he could say it to her.

“So… what?”

He wanted to. It was hovering over his head like an omnipresent cloud and the want turned to need, arms flexing as he struggled to remain still under her doe-eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of playfulness, rimmed with wispy lashes. His jaw tics.

“Different.”

“Different,” she parrots, a single brow raising before her tone lilts. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“A good way,” Azriel was studying her so closely that he noticed the mixture of relief and something tender settle into the delicate planes of her face. Had she been… worried? No. That was Rhys and Cass getting to him. Wasn’t it?

Ariadne hums. “You’re different in a good way too,” she glances down at the ground as a couple of the shadows tickle her toes. “Same as them,” his posture relaxes and she chooses not to comment. Some things were better left alone. For now. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Do you like french toast?”

“Yes.”

“Then come eat with me.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

A whole training ring? This is impressive, Ariadne stands on the outer edge with her notebook, quill, and inkpot held in her hands. I bet they spend more time up here than they do anywhere else, her lips twitch in amusement, neck craning to look at the sky. If I find the right spot, I’ll be able to see everything. The only question is where?

The ground shakes beneath her feet, eliciting a surprised squeal from her throat and putting her off balance, weight teetering on her toes. She quickly searches for stability and tries to plant her feet firmly when large hands settle on her hips, warm and steady.

Her head angles back further to find Cassian, who was grinning. He was always grinning.

“I know you don’t have far to fall, but you should really be more careful.”

She releases a frustrated sound. “Says the one who causes an earthquake when he lands!”

“It’s all this muscle, what can I say?” Cassian flexes his arms and Ariadne snorts, turning around to give him a light shove. Well, it was more like her pushing against a brick wall, but it was the thought that counted. “You should get rid of some to make room for your brain.”

There was silence and then he roars with laughter, the sheer volume of it making her ears buzz. “You’re funny. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Not recently,” she taps her finger against the edge of the notebook. “It’s good to know, though. At least I’m not boring.”

He pats her on the shoulder. “Definitely not,” his spine straightens and mischief glimmers in his gaze as the air around them shifts, tickling the surface of her skin and raising goosebumps; a silken touch attracts her attention and she looks down to find one shadow around her wrist, another curled around her elbow. She brightens, already enthralled, and misses the blatant surprise displayed on Cassian’s face. “That’s new.”

Ariadne hums, wiggling her fingers as it weaves through the spaces between. “Let me guess,” she raises a brow. “You get on their nerves too.”

Cassian narrows his eyes. “Do not.”

“Yes you do.”

Azriel.

She turned around and sure enough, the Shadowsinger stood a few feet away in his usual pose - arms crossed - and she wished he would loosen up, the tension obvious in the tightness in his shoulders and the reservation in his eyes. Why is he like this? He changes more quickly than I can think and I can’t keep up. How come I can’t figure him out?

The tendrils tremble as her fingers brush over the surface, marveling at how responsive they were; it seemed they were more sensitive than what was considered ‘normal’ and it was an enigma that she couldn’t figure out, but enjoyed all the same.

“See? We’re all in agreement,” she notes the flash of amusement in golden hazel followed by the slight shift in his chest, lips parting to release a breath, and the hard line of his jaw softening; they were near imperceptible changes and yet, she didn’t miss a single one. Well, you wanted to get a read on him, didn’t you?

Watching him would be the best way, Ariadne tilts her head. He’s struggling with something. It comes and goes and it’s heavy, her eyes observing the shadows swirling more languidly than before. They mimic his emotions, even though I’m positive they have their own too, which makes it harder.

I have to figure out the differences. How are you going to do that? This wasn’t helping. How long had it been since she’d spoken? Her nose twitches. “I made the scorecards and there’s two categories, so I was th-“

“I thought there were four.”

She glares at him, mouth tight. “Don’t do that. It’s rude and I don’t care for it. I wouldn’t do it to you and you shouldn’t do it to me. As I was saying,” She blinks. Wait, what did he say? She replays it over. How did he-? Realization slaps her right across the face. The shadow! Oh, damn the Cauldron! So much for secrecy! Her eyes narrow.

“I changed my mind. Two of them didn’t make sense after I thought it over.”

“What were they?” Cassian questions, causing Ariadne to jump and quickly step to the side, grateful she hadn’t dropped anything in the process and that no one would know it was because she forgot he was even there; her eyes focus on him, deciding a break was needed from the Spymaster - and his shadows - anyway.

“Agility and endurance,” she sighs. “I wanted to have more to look for, but it doesn’t make sense when you’ll be flying from one spot to another and I won’t be able to really judge them that well,” her shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “Speed, self-explanatory, and form, how you takeoff and land.”

Azriel abruptly turns and starts walking away, causing Ariadne and Cassian to display varying levels of confusion on their faces, though the latter seemed to know something she didn’t, which was strange. What was she missing? Her brow furrows and instead of standing around like an idiot, she hurriedly follows after him, making sure to keep her grip on everything in her hands, and glances back to see that his brother in everything but blood was coming along too.

“Where are we going?” Ariadne huffs and pushes her legs to move faster to keep up, silently cursing the world that she was so short. What an inconvenience.

Neither of them answer and irritation prickles on her skin, mouth setting into a thin line. “By all means, keep ignoring me. That isn’t rude or anything.”

More silence.

Her eyes narrow. Asses.

Cassian laughs to himself from behind the small Fae as they leave the training ring behind, beginning to climb up the small slope of the mountain and into the thicket of the trees. “She has a point… Where are we going? What did you do, Az?”

The Shadowsinger veers to the left, a clear destination in mind, and ponders for a moment whether or not he should respond. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll see in a minute.”

“Ah, so you’re being mysterious now? Is that for your benefit or hers?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats, wings pulled tightly to his body to avoid scraping against the branches. “We’re almost there.”

Cassian rolls his eyes in amusement, but remains silent. He had a feeling the end result of this was going to be more entertaining than anything he could say and he’d be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued and didn’t want to see how it all played out; this Azriel was exciting and new, something he never thought would be possible. Might as well take advantage of it.

“You aren’t leading us all the way out here to kill me or something, right?” Ariadne breaks into a small jog to catch up to Azriel, mindful of the roots above ground - the last thing she needed was to almost fall, again - and nearly grabbing onto his arm to keep herself in time with his lengthy gait. She doesn’t though. He’d probably disappear like the last time if I did.

Azriel looks over his shoulder, lips curved up into a surprisingly soft smile. “No. I’m capable of a lot of things, but harming you isn’t one of them.”

Oh.

She certainly hadn’t expected that.

“Well, that’s a relief then!” Her tone was breathier and there was a silent chiding to herself that she needed to stay composed. No need to lose her head now. “Are we almost there? Or are we going to have to stop for food and water?”

Cassian snorts, earning a sharp glare from Azriel, and he slides up next to Ariadne, reaching over to pat the top of her head. She immediately swats him away. “Patience, little Archeron.”

“My name is Ariadne.”

He chuckles. “I’m aware.”

She makes a move to retort when she bumps into Azriel, who had come to stand still, a squeak emitting from her lips. He was as solid as a damn rock and it wouldn’t be a shock if she found she was bruised from the impact. “You could warn me next time you kn-!”

The words get caught and come to a halt as she finally registers why he had stopped.

Her eyes widen a fraction and she steps around the Shadowsinger to be able to see better, everything else lost to her for the time being; they were in a large clearing laden with posts buried in the forest floor, artfully arranged from one side to the other, and there was hoops on top of a few, wide enough for a person - an Illyrian, more than likely - to fit through. Is this what I think it is?

Moving forward, Ariadne tilts her head back and breathes out slowly, finding what she was looking at hard to believe. “An obstacle course?”

“So this is what you’ve been doing for the past few nights! Who knew you would add carpentry to your list of skills,” Cassian stood beside Azriel now, a hand lifting to clap him on the shoulder. “And you say you aren’t creative!”

Azriel ignores him, golden gaze fixated on the youngest sister, surveying every bit of reaction elicited from her. “It is. You can judge more than speed and form with this, yes?”

She turns around, eyes brighter than he had seen so far and he was positive he’d do anything to keep it that way. “Uh, yeah! This is amazing! How long has this been here? Do you train here a lot?”

“You want to tell her or should I?” Cassian wiggles his eyebrows, ducking out of the way of one of the shadows and laughing raucously.

“Not long,” he inclines his head slightly, continuing to pay his brother no mind. “You can watch from over there.”

Ariadne bounces on the balls of her feet, practically buzzing with unrestrained energy, and wastes no time in going over, eager to witness exactly how flying really was. The only thing that would top it would be having one of them carry her along for the ride, but it was quickly dismissed. She was brave, sure, just not enough for that. Yet.

“Okay, I’m ready when you are,” she had her notebook open, along with the inkpot, and the feathered quill poised between her fingers. “Get in position and I’ll count it off.”

The two Illyrians do exactly that, standing a few feet apart at what was the designated starting line and stretching their wings, feet planted firmly and determination set into their expressions. Wow, they’re really taking this seriously. I guess it makes sense. Males are usually more competitive, she resists the urge to giggle. This is gonna be fun.

She goes over the scorecard for the millionth time and nods, completely focused and excited. There was no denying it.

“On your mark… Get set… GO!”

Cassian is airborne first, closely followed by Azriel, and she watches with a combination of calculation and awe. There was something to be said about the beauty of wings - one in particular - and watching them move with such power, such precision, was truly magnificent. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, not that she wanted to, taking note that while both were clearly talented, there was a drastic difference. To her at least.

Azriel flew with a deadly grace, maneuvering through the posts as if it were second nature, so fast that he was a blur of bronze and sapphire; she found herself mesmerized, the delicate features of her face showcasing wonder and not bothering to hide it, far too caught up in the art of it.

She paid attention to Cassian too, though it was difficult to share, and could tell that he was much more aggressive with his movements, all strength and speed, even a bit cocky. How was she to fairly judge this?

Cassian was cackling gleefully, tucking his wings in to shoot through one of the hoops as he pulled ahead before dipping into a low dive to bob and weave with ease. “Come on, brother! You’ve gotten slow!”

The Shadowsinger’s jaw tightens and he banks to the left, avoiding a post and ascending steeply, using the height to his advantage and propelling forward until he hears an indignant cry from below. A smirk forms on his lips. “I don’t think so.”

Ariadne was enthralled, memorizing every little thing that she could, refusing to miss any of it. If she wasn’t thrilled before, she certainly was now, and she knew that it was only going to go up - literally - from here. The finish line was right there and the sudden realization hit that she wanted Azriel to win.

Her cheeks heat at the mere thought and she swallows, that same energy buzzing beneath the surface of her skin. Don’t let me down. I’m rooting for you. Come on.

Almost as if he had heard her, Azriel flies through the last hoop and to the end, Cassian seconds behind, and she struggles to hold the grin at bay. She looks down at the scorecard and immediately begins tallying the scores, knowing that she couldn’t choose a winner based on who got there first; there were four categories for a reason after all.

“I let you win,” Cassian gives a pointed look. “I didn’t want to take away your prize and have you moping around. It’s seriously depressing.”

Azriel rolls his eyes. “You didn’t let me do anything.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Come back over here!” Ariadne double-checks each column, feeling satisfied with her judgment and her decision. It was close. Very close. She waits until they’re standing in front of her before handing them their scorecards, having returned to bouncing up and down with no restraint, excitement bubbling out from every inch of her. “Azriel wins!”

Cassian narrows his eyes at the paper he held as he goes over the numbers and soon his expression forms into mock horror. “The only one I beat him in was form?! Are you sure you aren’t biased, little Archeron?”

She scoffs. “No! I said that it was based on how you takeoff and land! You were off the ground first, so you edged him out there.”

“He’s a sore loser,” Azriel chuckles. “He’ll get over it.”

“You wound me, brother.”

Ariadne tilts her head. “I think you’ll survive, Lord of Illyrians.”

“Lord of Illyrians?” Cassian perks up at that. “Hear that, Az? I’m your Lord.”

“In your dreams.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

She was having a crisis.

A wardrobe crisis.

Normally, she wasn’t one to really give a damn about fashion, but this was the first time she’d be out and in public. Around people. With eyes. She wanted to look nice, or at the very least, presentable. The main issue being that she didn’t know what that entailed. A dress? Pants? Boots or heels? Maybe the silk ballet slippers? And what about a jacket? Leather? A cardigan? Was it too warm for a sweater? She had no idea. It was all guesswork at this point.

A noise of exasperation leaves her, hands on her hips, and she glares at the pile of clothes on the bed as if they had personally offended her. This is ridiculous! There is no reason why this should be so hard! Just pick something. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Is anyone going to truly care what I’m wearing anyway or am I just thinking too much into this? She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. I wish Elain was here. Or even Nesta. They’re much better at this than I am, damn it all!

Ariadne drops her hand, looking over the garments before snatching a pair of satin pants off the top and slipping them on. They were a deep plum color and seemed to pop against her skin, accentuating the subtle curve of her hips and hugging her thighs just right. See? You got this. Look for a shirt that matches and you’re golden.

She begins to sort through until she finds a blouse with flowing sleeves in a shade of cream and pulls that on too. Good enough, I suppose. At least it matches. I think.

With a sigh, she finds a pair of ballet slippers with a hard bottom and quickly decides that it was probably the best she would find. Heels weren’t her thing anyway; she still hadn’t figured out how anyone could properly walk in them. She smooths her hands down her front and takes a breath, glancing over at the door and gnawing on the inside of her lower lip. Azriel said they would spend the day in Velaris and it was a few hours after sunrise, which made her feel… silly. Surely he meant the afternoon? It didn’t make sense to leave now. He was the Spymaster and certainly had better things to do.

Oh, to hell with it! Ariadne faces the mirror of the vanity, checking over her appearance - more thoroughly than necessary - and finding that she actually looked pretty. She had gotten some sun from spending time on the private balcony she had nearly fallen off of and the plum and cream looked nicer than she had anticipated. Not so bad after all.

She gives a final nod and hurriedly leaves her room before she can change her mind, making her way to the kitchen for a much needed cup of tea. The doors to her sister’s rooms were shut and as she passed by, there’s a sudden urge to see them, to make sure they were alright, but she didn’t know how to approach them. Especially after Nesta’s reaction the last time. How long has it been? She wasn’t sure.

A frown mars her features and she hesitates briefly, falling into a battle in her own mind of the two options; she wanted to be close with them and share her experiences, but she didn’t know how to reveal the fact that she was able to communicate now. Would they accept her? Would they understand? She desperately wished she had the answers, though she kept coming up short and it frustrated her to no end.

Maybe I could ease them into it? So much has happened since Hybern and I don’t want to freak them out, Ariadne’s frown deepens. How would I even go about it? Write it down first? Would they even be willing? I wish Feyre was here.

That familiar sharp pain stabs into her chest and she winces, reaching up to rub the spot. She’ll be back and then everything will be okay. Deep breaths. You miss her and that’s normal.

She sucks in a breath and forces her legs to move until she’s standing at the bottom of the steps that lead to the kitchen. Tea, right, she exhales and looks up at the ceiling. You know how I like it.

A steaming cup appears on the counter and Ariadne immediately takes a sip, allowing the heat to coat her throat, warming her from the inside out. Her finger taps mindlessly against the rim, completely lost in thought; so much so that she barely notices the shift in the air and cool silk brushing over her shoulder, strands of caramel tickling her neck and the scent of cedarwood and bergamot - along with something slightly sweet, a little smoky - invading her senses.

She inhales deeply, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Goodmorning.”

“Goodmorning.”

The smallest of sighs passes through her lips and her eyes reopen, head turning and tilting back to meet golden hazel. Cauldron, he’s so beautiful. It’s truly unfair. Oh, hush, Ari! Stop it. He doesn’t need you fawning over him.

Ariadne looks him over quickly - sort of, not really - and notes he wasn’t wearing the fighting leathers he favored. Instead, he had on black slacks and a black shirt, fitted to the musculature of his chest and making everything very much defined, along with a leather jacket. His hair was artfully messy and she wanted to run her fingers through it. STOP IT.

She drinks the tea.

“You look nice. I never thought I would see you without that sword. Truth-Teller, isn’t it?”

His mouth curves. “Yes. You remembered.”

Her eyes roll, a playful glint in honey. “Of course I did. I remember everything you tell me.”

“Do you now?” Azriel raises a single brow, his hip resting against the edge of the counter. His gaze was intense and Ariadne shifts her weight from one foot to the other, heart beating a bit faster than she was used to. “Yes,” there goes that breathy tone again. What was the deal? “You’re… interesting.”

Cauldron boil me! Interesting!? That’s what you decided to go with?

That was the worst thing she could’ve possibly said.

But it seemed the Shadowsinger felt otherwise.

“Interesting?” Azriel’s lips form into a smile.

“Mhm,” she felt her cheeks flush, spreading down the length of her neck and she was certain a black hole was going to swallow her up. How embarrassing. What the hell was happening? She didn’t act like this!

Something brushes across her jaw, causing her breath to hitch, and she blinks, eyes finding the Illyrian to see.. Oh. Why is he looking at me like that? Wait, is he actually touching me?

Ariadne doesn’t move as his thumb swipes back and forth, ending in a soothing circle that makes her heart stutter in her chest. She felt hot all over, even with the shadow twined into her hair, and the stark contrast in temperature was sending her mind into a spiral with fuzzy edges that she couldn’t smooth out.

“Beautiful,” his voice caressed her, echoing in her head and she suddenly felt dizzy. “I like this color on you.”

What?

She wanted to touch him too. Badly.

And she wanted him to keep touching her.

“Thank you,” she swallows, subtly leaning further into it, and Azriel hums low in his throat, the sound reverberating down his arm and to his fingers. She shivers.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go?”

That soft smile he had given her right before the race returns, the gold in his eyes shimmering and holding something that she wasn’t sure of. “To Velaris.”

She could’ve smacked herself. How did she forget already? Was he still touching her?

“Yeah, I’m… I’m ready.”

Azriel lowers his hand and she notices that the warmth he brought left with him, leaving her wanting for more without any semblance of how to ask. He offers his arm to her, head tilted, and she takes it, fingers digging into the leather sleeve.

“Hold on.”

Her brow furrows, confusion evident, and then the shadows shroud them, the kitchen warping around them before everything goes dark.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm , @kabekusa , @fr0stf4ll .

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (4/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; AHHHHH!!! I apologize for this taking me longer than the other chapters! Work has been absolutely HORRIBLE and exhausting and stressful and I feel like I haven’t had time for SHIT. 😫 But that’s healthcare for you! Lmao. ANYWAY, here is chapter 4 and I really liked how this turned out, so I hope ya’ll will too! I also decided to cross-post on my ao3 one chapter at a time and if you would rather read there, just let me know and I’ll send the link. Or I may end up posting it here eventually. Who knows!!! ENJOY! 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 (𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁) 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵, 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹 (𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀), 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4140.

Everything felt like it was on fire.

It was too much to take and no matter how hard she tried, there was no way to make it stop.

Why was this happening?

What had she done to deserve this?

Please, get me out of here! Please!

Her legs were kicking, but she couldn’t get to the surface, couldn’t get out of the water that she was submerged in, that surrounded her in darkness; it was an endless abyss full of something that she wasn’t prepared to face, ominous and leering, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t!

It was too far. She was starting to run out of air - lungs burning and constricting in pain, nothing but raw agony - and there was no way she’d be able to keep this up forever.

I have to get out of here. Right now!

I’m not ready! Let me make it out, please.

Something wraps around her ankle, grip like ice, hard and strong, cold. She falters for a brief second before doubling her efforts, knowing she needed to get away and she needed to do it fast.

Get off! I’m not going. I won’t!

It yanks at her leg and starts to drag her down, causing panic to set in and her body thrashes in every direction, doing anything she could to break free.

There was a suffocating pressure all around, seeping into her pores and adding a thinly veiled terror that coursed through her veins; she wanted to scream and cry, to ask for help, but how could she? It was ripping her to shreds from the inside out and filling her with the feeling of death.

There was no escape from this.

She moved her arms in wide arcs, attempting to propel herself up to the top, and the more she tried, the harder it pulled, and she felt like she was stuck in quicksand, sucking her in until there was nothing left.

Let me go! I don’t want this! What don’t you understand!?

I’m not dying today! I won’t. I can’t!

A light appears in the distance, small at first, and then coming closer, and closer, and closer, growing in size and becoming brighter until her skin was illuminated with a luminescent glow.

What is this?

Make it stop!

It tightens around her ankle and tugs again, pain stabbing into every inch like shards of shattered glass, digging in to tinge with crimson, and she was certain - right then and there - that this was the end; she wasn’t going to come out of this alive.

Please, please, please.

Don’t do this to me.

She kept going down, down, down. It wasn’t going to let her go, there was no chance.

I’m not a bad person, I don’t deserve this!

The beat of her heart quickened and she fought with everything she had, refusing to give in, refusing to let it have her.

Let me out, let me out, let me out!

Its hold wouldn’t budge, only seeming to become stronger, and she couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t win.

Come on, Ari. Don’t you dare give up!

Keep fighting!

Her legs kick harder, teeth grit together as the burning in her lungs intensifies, like someone had shoved a white hot poker down her throat. It was too much. The flames had spread and she couldn’t breathe. The water was freezing, contrasting with the heat and waging a war inside of her. It was too much.

It hurts, it hurts! Please make it stop!

Keep fighting!

The light engulfs her. It keeps pulling. It won’t stop. It can’t stop. She flails around, struggling for something, anything.

Don’t give up, don’t give up.

You can do this, okay? I promise.

She looks up and blinks, catching sight of movement in the shadows.

No.

No, no, no!

Her mouth opens and she screams.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne sits up in bed with a startled gasp, air rushing in quickly and making her head spin; she places a hand over her chest, eyelids fluttering as she struggles to catch her breath, and the entirety of her petite frame trembles, thoughts cloudy and bringing forth something that she wanted to be far away from.

You’re okay. You’re fine, she smooths her hands over the satin sheets. It’s over and done with. You went in a- panic claws at her throat and she focuses on the way the fabric feels against her palms. You came back out. That’s the most important thing. You’re alive, Ari.

Her heart was beating rapidly behind her ribcage and it was taking everything she had to calm down, the fear racking her body with aftershocks of the horror that lingered. It was all-consuming, threading into every inch, settling in deep and growing roots that planned to stay.

It’s okay. It’s okay, her fingertips draw small circles, over and over again. I need a distraction. Give me a distraction, she takes a deep breath. Anything will work at this point. Please.

The air shifts and a tickle brushes her skin, catching her attention immediately; her eyes open fully to find the little shadow moving fluidly between her fingers, almost as if it were working hard to get her to notice.

Ariadne’s head tilts, unable to stop the relief that washes over her. I was wondering if you were ever going to come back around.

You had a nightmare.

I don’t really want to talk about it, she swallows and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Where have you been?

Even if you do not want to talk about it, you need to.

It’s too soon.

The longer you wait, the worse it will be.

Don’t use my own words against me.

Why not? They are such good ones.

Her eyes narrow as the shadow slithers up to wrap around her wrist, silken and shimmering beneath the low light. I’ll do it when I’m ready. I know it’ll be harder, but I… I can’t. Not right now.

It tightens for a brief moment and then loosens, temperature even cooler than before; a slow breath passes through her lips, shoulders sagging as some of the weight lifts. There was a sense of serenity, of safety. Was it… trying to comfort her?

We will be here when you do.

There’s that ‘we’ again, her fingers brush over the curve of it. There was no denying that the shadow had come to check on her, all assumptions gone and turned into fact. It was strange. She didn’t quite know how to take it and she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

Thank you for being here.

Where else would I be?

Ariadne huffs, eyes rolling. Wherever it is you’ve been since I last saw you a day and a half ago.

I was here.

Her brow furrows. Where? I couldn’t find you anywhere.

Is that your way of saying you missed my company?

Not if you’re going to be cocky about it, the corner of her mouth twitches when the shadow squeezes for a second time. You’re the best to talk to around here.

Are you including the Shadowsinger in that as well?

She falls silent upon his mention, not quite sure what she thought of him yet and even if she did, there was no way of knowing if she would be able to form it into a coherent sentence. Azriel was… peculiar? Was that the word she was looking for? Either way, she simply didn’t know and that was all she had at the moment.

I don’t think he likes me very much.

What makes you say that?

Ariadne blinks in surprise. It was a good question, as well as a fair one. Why did she think that? Regardless of the unknown word that could possibly describe the Shadowsinger, he had been fairly decent to talk to; polite, smart, inquisitive, and a lot less intimidating than she’d guessed. He didn’t push or pry, didn’t ask anything inappropriate, and wasn’t rude in the slightest.

Though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he acted differently towards her than everyone else and it was throwing her off. Granted, she hadn’t been around Azriel that often before and maybe he was the same, but she didn’t know that for sure either.

I just can’t… she pauses. I can’t get a good read on him, I guess. He’s difficult to figure out and I don’t know if the questions I’m asking are the wrong ones.

There is not anything that you could ask that would be considered wrong to him.

She goes quiet again, watching as the shadow rotates around her wrist and then disappears, only to reappear on her shoulder. A soft hum emits from her throat as she continues to watch, reaching up to stroke the tip of her finger along the length of it; lips curving slightly when that purring sound reverberates in her head.

Is that your way of saying I should be true to myself and ask whatever I want? Even if it’s multiple questions at once?

I would recommend not going too quickly. What is the point in asking someone something if you do not give them enough time to answer?

Ariadne scratches her finger along the top in response. She knew it was right, and yet, she still didn’t know how to go about any of this. It was new and foreign and exhilarating, but it was also scary, which was upsetting to admit to herself. She didn’t want to be scared, because really, what was she scared of?

Pity.

Judgment.

Rejection.

A frown mars her features and she gives a half-shrug, working to push the negativity into one of the boxes she created, not wanting to have any of it free and wreaking havoc on her thoughts. It would always be there no matter what and if she was able to keep it at bay for a little while longer, then that was what she would do.

We’ll see, she settles back against the headboard, a small sigh falling from her lips. I may have a lot of questions, but the last thing I want to do is overwhelm anyone. Azriel included.

What you choose to do is up to you. It is all your decision, Ariadne. No one can take that away. The most we will ever do is to make sure that you are kept safe.

We, as in you and the rest of the shadows, right?

More or less.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, though there was a fondness in it that made her realize she didn’t mind the cryptic messages that were given to her; in fact, it only further served to capture her intrigue and made her wonder exactly what it was that still had yet to be revealed. It was a mystery and she was never one to deny the excitement that came along with unraveling them.

Even if she would much rather the answers be easier to obtain, the search could be fun.

Thank you, by the way.

For?

Distracting me.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

I don’t like the kiwi. It doesn’t really taste like anything to me. Is that even… a thing? Ariadne sets the fruit down and moves to the bowl of cherries. There’s a pit in these if I remember right. Let’s not choke, please, she picks one up and bites into it before pulling it away to see the center. Okay, this is better, she chews, the tartness reminding her of the lemon bars and the juicy sweet had a hint of smokiness that was very much addictive. Definitely adding to the list.

She finishes it - unlike the few others she’d already tried - and wipes her fingers on the napkin, head tilting as everything around went completely still; it happened in an instant and she knew it wasn’t the magic of the house, but rather, a magic of another kind. Much stronger. Much more prominent, and riddled with power.

What was it?

Probably something you don’t want to mess with, her spine stiffens, throat working to swallow. It isn’t something, Ari, the back of her neck prickles. It’s someone.

“Well done, littlest Archeron. You can sense another Daemati, though, I wouldn’t recommend leaving an opening in your mind or else anyone could get in, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

She turns in a blink, only to be met with violet eyes - flecked with what she had imagined starlight to look like when Feyre had tried to describe it in written words - and a feline smirk.

“Rhysand.”

“Now, what have I done to upset you enough to feel the need to use my full name?” The vast intensity of his tone seems to soften a bit, becoming less of an enormity and more of something steady, grounding even. “I’d like it if you’d call me Rhys.”

Ariadne watches him carefully, finding herself unsure how to proceed. Azriel and his shadows were one thing, but the High Lord was a whole other playing field that she had no clue how to navigate.

Who are you kidding, Ari? You have no idea how to do any of this.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Her attention snaps back to the male in front of her, eyes narrowing. “Not very many people to talk to before I was thrown into that damn Cauldron, now was there? Don’t stand there and judge me for what I’ve done in years of silence.”

Rhys doesn’t move, though she swears there’s a hint of regret swirling amongst the stars. “I would never judge you. I’m the last person to judge anyone anyway,” his weight shifts. “You’ll need to practice separating your thoughts from what you say when the line of communication is open. Best to keep them private until you decide otherwise.”

“How do I do that?”

“Picture a barrier of some kind,” he walks around the counter and taps a finger against the wall. “Not too thick,” he pulls the towel off the handle of the oven and holds it up. “Not too thin,” the cup is in his hand and before she registers what’s happening, it’s thrown across the room and shatters into pieces. “But strong enough where no one can break through.”

“That way I can open and close it more easily than the big wall. Makes sense,” Ariadne clasps her hands together in her lap and raises a brow. “Are you going to clean that up?”

“Clean what up?”

Confusion flashes across her face briefly and then she sighs. Magic house. Right.

“I have a question for you,” Ariadne changes the subject, noting the amusement in his eyes and she decides that he is a sarcastic ass. “If a Daemati can sense another, why didn’t you know until now?”

The regret returns, which she finds interesting, and his mouth tightens. “Because I wasn’t paying attention. I was too focused on Feyre and what she’s doing in Spring Court,” he steps forward, almost seeming nervous. “I’m not well-versed in apologies, but I want to make it up to you by helping. If I can and if you’ll let me, that is.”

She lets his words echo in her mind, sinking in and allowing her to mull over exactly what he was offering, though not before she envisions a plate of glass that reflected iridescent hues in soft pastels to protect what she didn’t want him to know; it was several inches thick and impenetrable, as solid as steel and would serve its purpose well.

Good job, Ari. Now, she vacates her expression, unwilling to give anything away. What do you think of this? It seems genuine, but do you really want him to be the one to help you? Everything is still so new and happening all at once. Maybe you need to take a beat and try to process more before going forward.

A frown nearly succeeds in fighting its way to the surface at that. Aren’t you the one who wanted answers? Does it matter who they’re from or what order they come in? You might as well get them while you can since you don’t know if you’ll have an opportunity like this again.

Ariadne taps her finger against her knuckles as the thoughts run rampant, not wanting to resort to destroying herself over something as simple as a conversation with another, and tilts her head, eyes roaming over Rhys, who stood in silent observation.

“I’m alright with your help with the Daemati stuff,” she begins and is granted a small smile from the High Lord. “But everything else… I’ll play by ear. It’s my life and I deserve to have a say in who, when, and where,” she surveys his expression as she continues. “I don’t know you very well and if I’m being honest, I don’t know what I think of you just yet.”

A brief silence settles.

“Fair enough,” he nods. “Trust is earned and I have every intention of earning your’s. Even if it takes a while.”

She mimics the action and rubs a soothing circle onto the back of her hand, adding the right amount of pressure to remind herself that she was fine.

“Okay then. We can start tomorrow.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne’s eyes widen as they move over the inked words on the page, finding herself completely taken aback by the scene unfolding in her mind; the female was allowing the male to… Oh. What is- OH! Is that what happens? Is it-!

A familiar coolness brushes over her feet, causing her to jump and slam the book shut, cheeks flushing bright red.

Don’t do that!

You should pay more attention.

I’m reading! Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt someone when a good story is involved?

No.

Ariadne releases a huff. Well, it is, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t do it again. Now, she sets the book onto the table. What is so important that you decided to scare the absolute hell out of me?

The shadow wraps around her calf and squeezes. You are wanted elsewhere.

By who?

If you would finally leave this library for once, you would find out.

How very cryptic of you, she rolls her eyes. I should be used to it by now, I suppose, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Do I have to? It isn’t Rhysand, is it? I already told him we’ll start tomorrow.

You do not have to do anything, but I strongly encourage it, there’s a small pause as the shadow moves to encircle her wrist. It is not the High Lord.

Thank the blasted Cauldron for that. Fine, Ariadne pushes herself up from the chair to stand and glances down at the shimmering tendril. I’ll go. Happy?

Ecstatic.

Her eyes roll for a second time, but she exits the library and makes her way down the hall. Where am I going?

To the roof.

The roof? Why am I wanted on the roof?

You will see.

Ariadne sighs and decides to not question it any further. It wasn’t like she was getting anywhere - she never did - with the shadow’s answers, so why bother? She keeps walking, allowing instinct to guide her and she comes to a hall that leads to the right that she hadn’t noticed before. Her brow furrows. Where did this come from?

There was no response, not that she expected one, and she chooses to follow it, figuring that if she got lost, it would be a sort of adventure and she’d make the best of it like she did everything else; she continues on, fingers gliding along the wall and mind zoning out, wandering to who could possibly want her around. It couldn’t be Feyre, could it? No, don’t be silly, Ari. You would know if she was back.

Then who was it?

She sighs and looks down at her wrist to see that the shadow had disappeared, a frown now formed on her lips. Gee, thanks. What a tour guide you turned out to be, Ariadne returns her gaze forward and notices a winding staircase ahead that went up, with no clue as to where it went. Wonderful.

Her arm lowers to her side when she approaches, standing at the bottom for a moment and weighing on whether this was a good idea or not. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do, right? Might as well. She takes a breath and begins to climb, one by one, finding herself thankful that there was a railing to hold onto; the last thing she needed was to lose her footing and fall.

This is stupid. Why am I doing this? Ariadne bites at the inside of her lip. Because the shadow told you, she shakes her head. You make your own decisions and you could’ve said no, and you can still go back if you want to. No one is forcing you, her teeth puncture the skin and she tastes blood. But you want to know and it’ll drive you crazy otherwise.

Another sigh. Keep going then. Someone is waiting, apparently, and it’d be more stupid of you to not go and find out, the stairs become a bit steeper and she huffs, the muscles in her legs burning from the exertion. This better be worth it.

It seemed that it was endless, going on and on, and wearing her out in a way that made her want to give up and go back the way she came, but that was soon forgotten when a door came into view. She nearly cheers in triumph, feeling proud that she had managed it all on her own. There was still no knowledge of what - who - exactly would be on the other side and that caused a bit of nerves to rise to the surface, though she made herself open it anyway.

The first thing to hit her was the fresh air; surprisingly warm despite the sun lowering behind the distant mountains and scented with some sort of flower that she wasn’t familiar with. She inhales deeply, the corner of her mouth twitching, and walks further out, noting that this wasn’t what she would consider a roof, more so an overlook or maybe even a really large balcony.

Her head tilts as she observes the surroundings, finding it to be quite nice. It was private and secluded, a prime place for her to read or write, which she hadn’t done since she was Made, and she couldn’t help but feel slighted that she was just now discovering it.

All I’d need is to get one of those comfy armchairs from the library up here, Ariadne places a hand on her hip. A footstool too, she swivels to the right. And a table, a small hum emits from her throat. There has to be a type of magic that would keep it all safe from the weather that would make it okay for me to leave books and other things too.

She crosses to the bannister and places her hands flat on top, leaning up on her tip-toes to look over the edge and realizing she couldn’t see everything that she wanted; she pushes herself up further until her feet dangle above the ground, her stomach pressed against the stone as she worked to keep balanced. Her chin lifts, eyes taking in the sights presented before her and eliciting a soft gasp.

It was beautiful.

There were hundreds of lights down below, all coming from the buildings, and winding streets that she was sure were filled with the people who lived there, bursts of color in one area and a flowing river that seemed to glitter with something akin to diamonds. She had never seen anything like it in her life and she was itching to go explore, just to see what she might find, who she might meet, what she might learn.

Ariadne leans over further, excitement getting the best of her, when the balance that she was trying to maintain falters.

She teeters forward and a startled squeak escapes from her mouth, hands scrambling for purchase on the bannister as she begins to fall; her chest heaves, nothing but pure panic taking over, and her legs kick in an attempt to pull her body back down to solid ground.

Oh Gods! Don’t let me die like this! No, no, n-!

Something hard and strong and warm grips her hips, effectively cutting off her train of thought and rescuing her from certain death. She sucks in a sharp breath and whirls around immediately, eyes wide as she looks up, up, up to meet a perfectly chiseled jaw and golden hazel that was full of a whirlwind of emotions that she didn’t have the mind to decipher right then.

“Azriel?”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm , @kabekusa , @fr0stf4ll .

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (3/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; I seriously cannot thank ya’ll enough for ALLLL the love!! 😭 I’m blown away! Honestly. I’m really happy and I’ve been BUZZING. EEEE! So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It took me a little longer because I wanted to get it just right and I think this is the closest I could. 😬 Also!! I made the visual up above (I made Pinterest boards too PLS FMDKDKKD) and the filter is called ‘tardiness’ by @elliesnovella on Insta! ENJOY. 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳), 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁) 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗱.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4116.

Two days had passed and Ariadne still hadn’t tried talking to anyone else.

Except for the shadow when it came to check in on her - at least, that’s what she assumed it was doing - and herself, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

She thought about trying with Nesta first and then quickly took that right off the list when she had stopped by to bring a few books she thought her sister might like, only to be glared at and the stack snatched from her arms with the door slamming seconds after.

Nesta had taken the books though.

And that was something.

Then she considered Elain, who was marked off even quicker than Nesta. Their rooms were connected and when Ariadne had knocked, the door flew open to reveal the eldest Archeron with her blue eyes seeming to glow and had spoken in a tone so sharp that it made her ears ring.

She wasn’t great at lip reading - everyone always spoke too fast - but she managed to catch ‘leave’ and judging by the vitriol in her sister’s expression, she guessed it wasn’t a particularly pleasant string of words; it led to her decision of staying away for a while.

That’s when she found herself thinking of Feyre and how much she missed her.

Ariadne knew that she would be the first to want to try, to actually be able to talk instead of half-relayed messages on paper, and yet, it wasn’t possible. Because Feyre had gone with… What was his name? The High Lord of Spring. Timothy? Yeah, okay. Either way, her sister had left, with no clue as to when she’d be coming back.

It was an ever-present ache in Ariadne’s chest and no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t go away.

You need to get out of this room. You’re suffocating in here and the more you think, the more you’ll drive yourself insane, she blows a huff through her nose, finding she was annoyed with herself, which was worse than being annoyed at someone else in her opinion. Just get up and leave. Go explore! Do something! Anything!

Her thumb and index finger reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she releases an exasperated sigh; she stands from the seat by the window and follows her own advice, leaving the damn room and storming off towards the library.

No one would bother her there.

Ariadne throws open the doors with all her strength and strides over to the armchair she always sat in, plopping down with a second huff, brow furrowed. She hated being at war with herself because she couldn’t get away from herself. So, she tended to avoid the things that frustrated her the most, which almost never worked out.

Maybe on a special occasion, if there was such a thing.

But usually, she ended up doing what she tried to avoid and always searched for a place of solitude. The irony was not lost on her; the deaf girl looking to be in an even quieter place, having found comfort in the isolated silence. It would make her laugh if she thought she was capable of it anymore.

And now?

It was like she couldn’t sit still no matter what and she wanted to be around people. She didn’t even care who it was, but it seemed that she was the only one wandering around here since her sisters refused to come out, which limited the available options.

Ariadne closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself to relax her mind so it didn’t explode from the pressure building; it made it more difficult to focus and all she wanted was for it to go away. She needed to scream and she couldn’t do that, not now, not again.

Deep breaths, Ari. You’re fine. Relax. I promise, she swallows dryly and picks at the skin around her fingers, wishing for any sort of distraction. Feyre will come back and everything will be alright. She’ll listen. You’ll have her to talk to. Even if it isn’t all the time, it’s still something.

She flexes her hands to stop the incessant bad habit and then smooths them over the satin fabric of the pants she wore, the cool texture against her palms paired with the motion actually managing to soothe her.

See? You’re okay. Got all worked up for nothing, Ariadne takes a breath, then another, and tilts her head, the air around her shifting, tickling her skin. A sigh of relief emits from her lips and the opalescent wall in her mind begins to tremble, the doorway appearing more quickly than it ever had.

Everything rushes out of her at once. “I’m glad you’re here, thank that blasted Cauldron! I couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I couldn’t! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day!”

Nothing.

Silence.

“You can talk.”

Everything freezes.

That wasn’t the shadow, no, in fact, that was the furthest thing from the shadow.

Her eyes snap open and a soft whoosh leaves her as she stares directly into hazel tinged with gold - rimmed with lashes that even Nesta would be jealous of - and held a mixture of shock, curiosity, and something else that she wasn’t quite sure of.

It was Azriel.

She had just spoken to Azriel.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than stare. What had she just done? He wasn’t supposed to be the first one she revealed this to! It was supposed to be Feyre - the one person who always cared about what she wanted and what mattered to her - and even if she had to wait to do it, she knew it was going to be perfectly fine and now that was all over with.

It was supposed to be Feyre. This was all wrong!

“You’re a Daemati,” Azriel’s voice rolls in and she’s actually able to hear it inside her head, as clearly as her own. It was low, deep, velvety, and her breath hitches; it wasn’t like the shadow’s whisper at all, instead, there was quiet authority laced in his tone and a richness that reminded her of a thick chocolate, though there was a slight edge that emanated a danger of the lethal kind. It was… It was beautiful.

“Yes,” Ariadne blinks and watches him as he watches her, noting that even in the crouched position he was in, he still remained a respectable enough distance away. “A new one.”

His head tilts and the shadows around his shoulder flourish about excitedly. With a subtle tug, he manages to reel them in and give his full attention to the Archeron sister who had managed to take him completely by surprise, which wasn’t exactly easy to do. “You seem to be doing pretty well.”

She falls silent for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Talking with the shadow hadn’t been hard at all and now she felt like a fish out of water, flopping around and utterly devoid of any semblance of words; she didn’t know what to do.

Azriel waits patiently with his elbows rested on his knees, deducting that this must be even more jarring to her than it was for him. He wasn’t impatient by any means and had no intention to rush her.

“I’ve been practicing,” Ariadne finally responds, a single hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and he tracks the movement without her notice.

“Have you?”

She nods her head, clasping her hands back together. “The basics. Opening and closing the door, some organizing,” her thumb brushes over her knuckles. Why was she so nervous? There was no way she’d ever feel this way if it were Feyre. That had to be it; Ariadne just didn’t know Azriel, if she did, there wouldn’t be any of this feeling. “But no knowledge of obliterating minds. I don’t want to do that.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips twitch. She was different than he expected and it piqued his interest, making him wonder what else there might be. “It would be a good idea to learn regardless.”

“And if I did, who would I ask, Shadowmaster? You? Rhysand? Feyre isn’t here, you know,” she levels him with a look and his eyebrows raise before there’s a deep rumbling in her head, rich, warm, and sending a shiver down the length of her spine. What was that? A laugh? Maybe? If it was, she wasn’t sure why, which brought back the annoyed expression on her face. “What’s so funny?”

He works to suppress the smile struggling to show itself, though the amusement was definitive. “I’m the Shadowmaster now?”

Azriel watches keenly as Ariadne’s narrowed eyes widen a fraction, realization setting in, and she tenses slightly, breath stilling, and he finds himself feeling a sense of relief when she inhales. She sits up straighter and her voice fills his head as it had before; tentative and unsure, then flowing in like a whisper of moonlight, luminescent, gentle and fleeting.

“I mixed up your titles, didn’t I? I did it twice,” a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth and he doesn’t like the way it settles so quickly, appearing too comfortable. “That would make you the Spymaster and a Shadowsinger.”

“I think I like Shadowmaster better.”

Surprise flashes across her face before she relaxes a little, though there was still an uneasiness in the way she swallowed, and how her eyes flitted to him and then to her hands and back again. Azriel wasn’t sure what was bothering her so badly that it was lingering around, but it left a bad taste on his tongue.

“But you can call me Azriel.”

Ariadne blinks, noting the subtle hopefulness that was woven into his tone and finding that curious. Wouldn’t everyone call him that? “Azriel,” his shadows slither towards her, reaching for her ankles when they suddenly retreat and she tilts her head. “Why did you do that?”

His eyes seem to glow a little more golden then and they remind her of the sunrise peeking over a lush forest.

“Do what?”

“Pull them away from me.”

Azriel falls silent and his shoulders move, signifying he had taken a deep breath. Why? He stands from the crouched position and Ariadne leans forward suddenly, which is strange because what was she going to do? Follow him? He turns around and starts walking away, causing a pang to hit her chest, and she digs her nails into her skin. “Wait! I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to assume anything. I just thought that you commanded the shadows and I didn’t want you to think they scare me because they don’t. I actually think they’re very sweet.”

He moves further and her heart drops to her stomach; she had managed to drive away the first person she talked to because she had said the wrong thing.

How could this happen so fast? Was she really so bad?

Ariadne gnaws on her inner lower lip, thinking over how she should have worded it differently or if maybe she was too invasive? The shadows were his and he could do whatever he wanted to with them. It wasn’t any of her business.

If Azriel didn’t want them to touch her, then that was his right.

A flash of black catches her eye and she blinks, head lifting to find that the Shadowsinger had grabbed the other armchair and dragged it until it was only a few feet away from hers, now sitting with his wings lifted up over the back so they wouldn’t be crushed under his weight. His gaze finds hers, brow raising as he leans to the left with his arm rested on the chair and the other at his side, gloved hand on his thigh.

“I do and I don’t. They came to me and chose to listen to what orders I give. Though, I prefer to think of them as requests. They’re smarter than most people think and that actually ends up being a benefit to me and the work I do for Rhys,” Azriel dips his head, a few shadows curling around the arch of his wings, movements fluid as they swirl and reminding her of falling feathers dancing. “They’re meant to be kept close in case I need them. Good to know what you think of them though,” his lips curve slightly. “Does that answer your question?”

It did and it didn’t; there was still the unanswered one of why he felt the need to keep them from her. Surely she couldn’t be that big of a distraction? And if they had come to him willingly, shouldn’t they be allowed to have a bit of leeway too? The understanding of it all was just out of her reach and she desperately wished she could grab and hold onto it.

Ariadne sits back in the chair and pulls her legs underneath her, deciding to keep it to herself. This could possibly be the start of something great and she refused to ruin it, especially when she had never had an actual friend before.

“Yes,” No. She taps her finger on her knee. “What sort of work do you do?”

Azriel watches the subtle shifts in her expression - a twitch of her brow before they came together, the way her bottom lip moved as she bit the inside, and how her eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks like butterfly wings when she seemed to fall into her thoughts - and feels something stir inside of him.

Almost like being asleep for a long time and finally starting to wake up.

“Gathering intel, observing, and making sure that we know everything we can that goes on in other Courts,” his wings stretch outwards a little and her eyes roam over the movement, noting the scars that were littered across the membranes and she can’t help but be reminded of the horror back in Hybern, how he must of suffered in agony with no way to get out of it. “When I can’t be somewhere, I send the shadows and they bring back what they find.”

“Do you like doing all of that?”

“It keeps me busy.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that.

Everyone in the Inner Circle knew what he did and had to do, but no one had ever pursued the topic any further, having figured if he wanted to tell them, he would.

And here comes this little Fae, asking because she… what? Because she wanted to? The idea was ridiculous and yet, Azriel found himself unsure and it was disconcerting.

He takes a breath, weighing over his thoughts and debating on how to word what he wanted to say. “Sometimes it’s difficult. There are certain things,” flashes of Truth-Teller slicing into flesh, crimson dripping onto the floor, the sound of screams, and his jaw tightens. “That I have to do and a certain way of doing them that isn’t always my favorite.”

Ariadne tilts her head. There was a darkness swirling within the gold that wasn’t there before and it was clear that there was a lot more to it than that. She wanted to know what he had to do that would make him this haunted and she came to the conclusion that it must be awful, which didn’t sit well with her. Did no one bother to ask? Did no one bother to even try?

A part of her wanted to ask Azriel herself, but how in the stupid Cauldron was she supposed to do that? Would it be over-stepping? How should she say it? What if it made him angry? Or upset? She didn’t want to do that to him.

But she wanted to know.

There was something telling her that she needed to and it was yet another thing that she didn’t understand, so she decided to just go with it like she did everything else until she had the answers.

“There are certain things that I don’t like to remember either. Particularly how they made me feel,” Ariadne swallows, using the pad of her thumb to rub small circles into the back of her hand. “Everything else is heightened since I can’t hear in a normal way and that isn’t always a good thing,” she takes a deep breath, skin prickling. “It makes the pain worse.”

Her body shifts and she lifts her chin to find that Azriel’s shadows were whipping around his back and shoulders - movements a bit wilder than they usually were - with the tips refined into razor sharp points; they seemed ready to cause some serious damage and she wished she could smooth her hands over them, if only to calm.

“I do know if I leave it alone for too long, that it’ll be harder for me to deal with when the time comes,” her eyes trail along each obsidian tendril, noting that they were shaking, blurring slightly at the edges. “I’m not ready for it right now, but I’m hoping that one day I will be. Even if it hurts, I know it’s something I have to do,” she marvels at the way they flow through the air, like water down a stream, and a soft hum emits from her throat.

“I think it’s something we all have to do at some point,” Ariadne tears her eyes away from the shadows in search of that golden hue to find that Azriel was already looking at her. She inhales. “No matter if we hate it,” she exhales. “No matter if it isn’t our favorite.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Azriel couldn’t remember the last time someone had stunned him into silence; as a matter of fact, he didn’t think it had ever happened before, which was a complete conundrum and left his mind in a scramble and it was the most unorthodox thing he had ever experienced.

How?

Why?

There was something about Ariadne that was different from her sisters, a secret locked away with a hidden key, and the Shadowsinger wanted to dive into every square inch of her mind until he knew everything that there was to know about her.

He already knew she was intuitive and witty, genuine, perceptive, curious - soft - and probably one of the most intelligent people he’d ever met, which he would be sure to keep from Rhys lest he fall into his usual flair for the dramatics.

But he wanted to know more.

Because as soon as Azriel thought he had a good grip on who he thought she was, the little thing slipped through his fingers and changed direction.

And now he couldn’t form words into a sentence that would make sense of what he wished to say to her, coming up short several times and beginning to get frustrated with the whole ordeal. He wanted to keep the line of communication open and have her presence so near to his, and it seemed that his desire for that was what was making his mind draw blanks.

If this were to happen with Rhys or Cass, he would’ve left the room by now.

Azriel quickly discovered that was the last thing he wanted to do where Ariadne was concerned.

So he stayed.

His shadows had settled and he marveled at the warmth of her honey-eyed gaze and the featherlight caress of her whisper, which seemed to be soothing them and causing their own anger to ebb away like the tide; it took him by surprise - he sensed a theme here - and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

They were an extension of Azriel, every part of them intertwined with him, and no one had ever had such an influence before.

How is it possible? What does it mean? He didn’t have the answers and it made him want to question everything until he finally got them.

“That’s easier said than done,” is what he responds with, tone a bit gruffer than usual.

Ariadne’s expression shifts to a mixture of perplexity and mirth, the corners of her mouth twitching and she purses her lips. “I never said it would be easy, Shadowsinger. You have to put in the effort if you want the results.”

A single brow raises. “You seem to have all the answers.”

“Not hardly, but I can read people fairly well and I can tell that you’ve never considered it before.”

She was right. He hadn’t.

Azriel readjusts his position and leans forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as the gold swirls around his irises. “You really aren’t afraid.”

Her brow mimics the action of his, the amusement still tugging at her lips, though she manages to keep it at bay. “Do I have a reason to be?”

He tracks the movement and finds himself wishing that she would show her smile, wanting to see how it changed her expression; if it would make her eyes light up as joy filtered through or if it would disappear quicker than a blink and have him eager for the day that he could stop, stare, and admire the beauty of it.

“No,” his wings unfurl to stretch and he stands, having made a decision to keep her in his orbit for just a while longer. “You might change your mind eventually, but we can revisit after.”

Confusion flashes across her face. “After what?”

“We’re going to have dinner. You have to eat, don’t you?”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

This is bizarre, isn’t it? Ariadne stares at the notebook in her lap, quill poised between her fingers. All of this.

She had, in fact, had dinner with Azriel and she was still reeling a bit; the house had provided soup and sandwiches, along with her usual tea, and even a plate of lemon bars that she actually decided to try, which was a good idea because they were delicious. It was sour and sweet and citrusy, and it made her tongue tingle.

Azriel kept the conversation focused on her and it was strange. She didn’t know if there was a line for how much she was allowed to reveal considering she’d never had to worry about it before, so she tried to pull the detail back in her answers as much as she could, not wanting to overwhelm him or ramble or do anything to offend.

And that was the part that left her utterly confused; he seemed to be disappointed in what she said and it didn’t make sense because why?

Wasn’t polite conversation supposed to be light? Simple?

That’s what she had gathered from Elain over the years and it seemed to work just fine, so what was the problem?

It seems like a balancing act, Ariadne doodles a crescent moon into the top right corner and allows herself to work through it. You don’t want to tell too much because that would be an overload of information and no one wants that, she adds a couple stars. But you also don’t want to give too little because that would be boring and no one wants that either.

She writes her name in the center before boldening the ‘A.’

You need to give just enough so it stays flowing and keeps the interest there. See, a balancing act! Makes sense. It’s okay, you didn’t know. You’re learning, aren’t you? Don’t expect to be perfect the first time around. That isn’t realistic and you know it.

A drop of ink falls from the tip of the quill and soaks into the page, ruining the ‘A’ and she releases a huff as she shuts the notebook and sets it on the bedside table.

Today was a lot. That’s all. You need to try and sleep or at the very least, rest your eyes. Start again tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll feel better about everything then. Maybe. A little bit.

Ariadne leans against the headboard and stretches her legs out in front of her, wiggling her toes that were dressed in fuzzy socks and wishing more than anything that she knew the things she was missing. It was a hindrance and above all else, it was annoying.

Stop it. More has happened in the last three days than you’re used to and it’s impossible for you to go through it for the fifth time when you’re this tired.

She finally closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, willing her thoughts to stop running wild so she’d be able to steal a couple hours before the nightmares came.

The questions, the shadow, the knowledge of Daemati and what she could now do, Nesta and Elain, Feyre, and everything else could wait.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm .