#vidalinav snippet

[vidalinav]

Cassian’s never seen her room before and it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now, but Nesta plops onto her bed, tucking herself beneath her blue comforter.

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There’s also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster. Cassian holds it up. 

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her. 

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.   

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?” 

Nesta coughs out her response. 

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like be coddled by anyone. 

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack. 

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?” 

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.” 

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth. 

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here, wear my sweatshirt.” 

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes. 

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this. 

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns. 

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

~

Will this hold you over for like… a month?

Also I want you to know everything I write is from experience… I have a stuffed lobster that’s a heat pack.

[vidalinav]

October Hues: Snippet

“Take her back,” Bryaxis warns. Nesta doesn’t understand the words. She wants to be here, where the music of the forest urges her to dance. One step here, and another over there. A swift turn on a perfect toe.  

Cassian turns to look at the cat, but Bryaxis only hisses behind him. Towards the shadows of the night. What’s so menacing about the forest, Nesta wants to sing. It claps for her. The heavy applause of shaking limbs and leaves.  

Listen closely, the forest says. Listen well.  

“Let’s go, Nesta,” Cassian pleads, grabbing onto her arm.  

Nesta pushes him away. She wants to go where the autumn calls, where the trees part into nothing but darkness. “There’s something there, isn’t there? Waiting.”

She can hear the soft snap of twigs.  

“Go!” Bryaxis yells, and he races ahead into the shadows. Nesta reaches out a hand, but Cassian pulls her back.  

“Nesta, let’s go!”  

But she doesn’t understand. Her head feels enshrouded in fog. “What about Bryaxis?”  

Cassian doesn't give her an explanation as hisses from a cursed cat turn into beastly growls. He hoists her up before she can argue another word. Nesta can hear his heartbeat pound away as they fly. Beat after beat as if trying to drown out the sound of chaotic drums. She taps her fingers on his chest to match every note.  

When they get to the House, the others are already there. Feyre races to her, and Nesta blinks slowly at that worried face. She wants to tell her little sister that she swears she’s not drunk... but she feels drunk. She feels tired. As if the night is a thick quilt that tucks itself around her and sleep is a soft pillow to lay her head.  

Vaguely she can make out her sister's call, “what happened to her?”  

Nesta can barely lift her head. She wants to explain, but her lips feel chapped. Her mouth dry and uncomfortable. Cassian heads straight for their room without another word. The sheets are already pulled back on their bed and there’s a bouquet of fresh roses on the table. Her favorite kind. The ones that bloom in a sunset peach.  

Her mate kisses her forehead as he gently sets her down.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he says and Nesta believes him.

Cassian pulls up a chair and she wants to reach for him, to ask him why he doesn’t lay with her, but it’s hard to even open her eyes. She thinks of Bryaxis, the shadows, and the moon.  

The forest is calling, Nesta wants to tell him. 

It doesn’t like to wait.  

~ I love the ending chapters of this fic much more than the beginning, because they’re a little more mystical. But basically October Hues starts out very happy go-lucky. Autumn and cafes and sweet buns galore and then it progressively gets more Halloween like the closer it gets to the 31st. 

Wish me luck. These fics are longer than I anticipated. 

[vidalinav]

“More pumpkins Miss Nesta?” Tom asks.

Nesta nods, smiling politely at the fae who sets out a few that are perfectly round without any scratches. He cups a hand beside his mouth, whispering loudly, “The best for my best customer.”  

Nesta’s grin widens at that.  

There’s a certain warmth to the male that has her smiling without a care. Many of Velaris citizens are like that, she finds. At first, she abhors the fact that everyone knows her name, knows who she is and what she’s done, but now when people wave at her or tell her high, Nesta only sees friendliness as opposed to... whatever it is before.  

Nesta doesn’t really know. She never truly looks, so she can’t say if they’ve always been like this. But now, like the trees are whispering advice to her, Nesta looks and listens.  

Nesta speaks.  

So, she asks the male in his overall jeans, with his rough tumbling beard about his wife and kids. She’s seen them before—at the pumpkin patch a few days prior and Tom lights up at the question.  

“Little Cherry’s doing all right and so is Peach. Though, they’re still—how do you say—not into being back in school,” he says jovial.  

Cherry and Peach. Nesta jots them down in her mind. She’ll bring them up the next time like some sort of game. How many names can she rake up like leaves?  

“Now Mary... She’s the one who’s exuberant at the change of season. She’s like you, running around this place, visiting every booth.”  

“Well,” Nesta shrugs, remembering Rhys is there—probably watching the entire interaction. Judging her. “There’s just something about the air in the fall.”  

“You’re right about that,” Tom agrees cheekily.  

Nesta watches as the male points to the two pumpkins he thinks she’ll like the best and they’re gloriously orange. Bright and big. Perfect for carving into.  

“If you don’t mind me asking... how many pies are you baking?”  

Nesta laughs outright, the question comical. She laughs a bright, loud sound. She’ll tell Cassian that when he gets home. Someone thinks she bakes!

“I do not bake anything... I eat baked goods,” she shrugs, the musical lark still in her lungs.  

Tom frowns, “You’re not baking pies for the Harvest? Then... what have you been doing with all these pumpkins?”

“I carve them,” she replies contentedly.  

The male gives her the same look Cassian, Emerie, and Gwyn also give her at the idea. A furrow of the brows, the pause in the step.  

How strange can it be? She wants to ask. She’s seen flying horses and they’ve never gotten that look.  

“Why—why would you carve them? You don’t eat them?”  

“To...” Nesta pauses as she contemplates her words. She can’t very well say it’s to deter fae now, can she? “Stave off ghosts.”  

A female behind her gasps so loudly that Nesta jumps at the sound. The fae’s skin is made of tree bark and Nesta tries to flatten her expression as the female tramples up to Tom’s booth. She didn’t know skin could be made of tree bark.  

“Have there been siting of ghosts?”  

She looks to Rhys, but he looks past her, pinching his nose.  

Someone else yells, “Should we be worried about a demonic presence in the city?”  

“No, no” Rhys quickly dismisses, putting on that innerving, practiced smile, “There’s nothing demonic or ghostly. Nothing malicious is going on here.”  

A voice from the back of the gathering crowd, scoffs. “Would you tell us if there were?”  

Nesta decides she likes that person. Likes them a lot. 

“Of course!” Rhys says, ever the pleasant leader, “Lady Nesta is just...”  

Nesta raises a brow. Just what?  

Her brother-in-law quickly looks away. “Being prepared.”  

That doesn’t seem to appease the bark-skinned female though. She raises a fan of crisp silver bills, “I’ll take four pumpkins.”  

“Would other squash work?” Nesta hears.  

“Will there be a pumpkin shortage?”  

But Nesta doesn’t bother with them as she looks beyond Tom to the pumpkins in the back. Pumpkins with blue ribbons tacked to their stem.  

If her pumpkins are big, these pumpkins are huge. Fae sized and glorious.  

She wants them. 

~

@arinbelle said keep them coming... 

Y’all best unfollow me. I’ll be posting snippets until all of these are done, because there’s suppose to be 31. This one for a frame of reference is a headcanon that I’ve had for a long time about Nesta bringing human traditions to Velaris (which is basically all aspects of Halloween) and because she’s the witch in the mountain... everyone takes her words very seriously. 

[vidalinav]

It’s already snowing in Windhaven, and nothing about the space reminds Nesta of autumn, but when she steps into the warm shop, Emerie’s home smells of baked bread.  

“Back here!” Her friend yells from across the hall.  

Gwyn rushes ahead, dropping her bag like a it’s a heavy weight. One to be left at the entrance and picked up when they leave. She leaves it and still her friend seems to be carrying something heavy, and Nesta yearns to know what troubles her so much.  

But Gwyn goes, following Emerie’s voice—the clanking pots and pans. Nesta watches as her two friends hug excitedly in the kitchen. Emerie clasps the wooden spoon as her arms wind around Gwyn’s tall frame, and Gwyn squeezes back. The gesture—how tightly Gwyn holds on—has her stomach tying in knots. A protective roar already building in her breast. But Nesta smiles the feeling away as Emerie holds out her arms for her, too.

Together, the three of them huddle in the space, embracing as if they haven’t seen each other in years.  

They’ve seen each other last week, and the week before. Just the other day Emerie and her go shopping in a new bookstore and they bring dinner to Gwyn and eat between the shelves of the library. In between, they train, and they see each other there too. Gossiping as if they have so much to share. As if they don’t know everything already.  

But there’s not enough ways to express appreciation, Nesta finds. I’m thankful you’re here; she feels in the hug. I want you around, she hears in the laughs. I love you; I love you; I love you; she sees in their smiles.  

I need to say something, she finds in Gwyn’s eyes.  

Emerie can see it to for she frowns. Nesta notes the apron tied around her waist as they wait for Gwyn to speak, but Gwyn only fiddles with her jacket, going to the bubbling pots of food. The apron spells I’ve got a knife in florescent pink and Nesta thinks to her own—a matching one from one of their trips through town. Don’t be afraid to take whisks, her says in bright yellow.  

Emerie clears her throat at the silence. “Did you guys bring anything?” 

“Almost too much.”  

Gwyn tuts, “It was Nesta. She insisted on the games, the extra spices, the tea.”

Nesta only shrugs in response, “The House insisted.” 

Emerie’s eyes light up as if she knows that’s a lie. Nesta can’t say it’s not. The House is eager to please, and... no one ever stops her from giving gifts. Spices and books and a number of trinkets. I saw it, laughed, and thought of you gifts.  

Emerie only smiles fondly, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and luring her to the table at the corner. “It’s fine. I know you love me.” 

Nesta squints at her distance from the pots. “Are you trying to keep me away from the kitchen?” 

“You’re not getting anywhere near that kitchen,” Emerie answers brightly, Gwyn laughing outright. “But here, you can lick the spoon.” 

“You won’t even let me stir?”  

“Do you remember last time you were near an oven?”  

Nesta sees Gwyn trying to hold in a smirk and the look of joy on her friend's face is a relief. Even if her words make Nesta scoff. “The House doesn’t even let you into the kitchen anymore.”  

...

To be continued.

~ It’s Valkyrie week... I think and I almost never answer prompts but I thought I’d just post Valkyrie-based snippets of my October fic. 

For context, Gwyn in this chapter makes the executive decision to start leaving the library, which is what is troubling her. 

@arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997

[vidalinav]

The last couple of sentences of my Nessian Month fic that will be posted sometime this month obvi. Curse me for taking a prompt (one prompt!) and making it a thousand times more complicated than it had to be!

~

“It’s cold here.” He pauses as if it might be the first of many complaints, but Nesta doesn’t continue, only grasps him closer. Cassian doesn’t think they can be anymore entwined. “You’ll keep me warm?”

He smiles, tucking her closer even still.  

“I’ll keep you warm,” Cassian promises.