Penned by: Lina
Side blog to: Jvstsaywhen
Independent — Selective — Multi-muse — 21+ to Interact
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Andulka
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oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
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Claire Keane
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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@theartofmadeline
Today's Document
Misplaced Lens Cap
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@worlds-entwined
Penned by: Lina
Side blog to: Jvstsaywhen
Independent — Selective — Multi-muse — 21+ to Interact
Rules and Muse Page | Memes | Ask Box
“Shall I tend to my little garden forever? You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”
HAWKEYE (2021) dir. Bert & Bertie
Shirley MacLaine as Fran Kubelik in The Apartment (1960) dir. Billy Wilder
36﹕ sender is found drunk by receiver . [For Cas && Mor]
(Asking for side blog: worlds-entwined)
❝ Did you just...start day-drinking? Without me? ❞
Lowering himself onto a chair that both served to accommodate his wings and was in close proximity of his dear friend, Cassian tilted his head in her direction to give her a thorough once-over. Judging by the swaying of her glass and the scent of alcohol emanating from her general direction, she was already well into her cups; something not unusual for her, but he'd not seen her start without him for a while. Deciding to make light of the situation, the Illyrian reached for the bottle that stood between the two of them and put it to his lips, the lack of a glass no doubt eliciting one reaction or another from the blonde. A good distraction from perhaps deeper layers beneath that had led to the consumption of alcohol in the first place.
❝ So what's the occasion? ❞
She could, would, blame the wine for subduing her senses enough that surprise flickered over her features at the sound of a familiar voice. Mor had been lost in thought, her eyes had been cast in the direction of the hearth that crackled as flames licked at the logs. Her tanned legs adjusted over the arm of the green velvet chair she had claimed as her own for however long she chose to remain.
"I was waiting for your workout to be done before I pulled you in to the bottom of a bottle with me." mused Morrigan, her slightly glazed eyes shifting to where Cassian had settled himself. Her red lips dipped into a feigned frown, "From the bottle, Cas?!" she couldn't hold the frown for long, the edges of her lips pulling up into a languid smile. Oh, yeah... she had started without him and with what little remained in the bottle, she had started a little while ago.
Mor blew out a breath at his question, adjusting back into a sitting position, slumping into the back of the velvet chair, loose blonde strands spilling over the ornate gold trim. "Any meeting with Keir requires alcohol afterwards to cleanse oneself." came her comment, red lips twitching in a disgust she quickly washed down with a swig of her red wine. Meetings with the Steward of the Hewn City were never pleasant, especially when she was delivering direction from Rhysand. In the moment, she didn't allow her disdain for her sire to overpower the duties she needed to accomplish on behalf of her High Lord. But after....
"You can imagine how excited he was to know that Rhys will be paying him a visit in a week." Mor made a point to roll her eyes, though her lips landed in a tempered smile and a playful gaze, "So, will you be replacing the bottle with a new one, or are you cutting me off?"
GWYNETH BERDARA for @cascadingmoon
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
CENTURIES of political maneuvering have taught Eris the value of patience. He moves with predatory grace as he paces the border, each step deliberate and silent. His leather boots barely disturb the fallen 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 beneath them.
Wind whispers through the trees, bringing with it the familiar scents of his court - pine needles, dried leaves, and... Something foreign. Something uninvited. The corner of his mouth quirks up, his expression more fox than fae. Living in AUTUMN COURT has been his best teacher in reading threats, seeing the opportunities that lay beneath them. ❝ Now this . . . ❞ he drawls, each word falling like autumn leaves, ❝ . . . --- is unexpected. ❞ His fingers find their way to his sword hilt , an old friend's familiar weight. Not drawing it . . . not yet. But the message is clear enough. ❝ I don't remember extending an invitation to this corner of 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃. ❞
A slow blink, was the only interruption to the display of annoyance simmering beneath the silvery irises. She didn't fancy being here. Another task Rhys had sent her on. Bastard. Nesta stood at the edge of Eris' his father's territory with her arms crossed over the leathers of her chest. Ataraxia was securely strapped to her back, the gleam of the hilt peeking up past her shoulders.
"I'm uncertain I have the patience--" Nesta's gaze flicked over to the hand at his hilt, and coolly back to his structured features, "To wait long enough to receive an invitation, Eris." Her lips offered a tight smile. One which didn't reach the silver of her eyes. Nesta took two strides forward, enough to close most of the distance between them. Her arms stayed crossed, no attempt to reach for her weapon. She wasn't here to fight she had been sent here for information. "I have questions."
The weather was chilly, if not a little on the cold end of the temperature spectrum. Enough for Elain to have selected a thicker linen fabric dress as opposed to the usually more structured and lighter dresses that adorned her gentle curves.
She had filled out in the last few months. Her face was less angular, her shoulders and collar bone had softened their sharp corners. Her cheeks glowed with health and the dullness in her eyes had receded. There was *life* in her gaze as opposed to the emptiness and despair that had filled them months ago.
Soft lilac was tight around her torso, only to flair and float out at the sweep of her waist and hips, long sleeves covered the pale flesh of her arms, ending at a cinch around her delicate wrists. A tan apron sat tied around her waist with various pockets. Some empty, some holding little tools. Altogether, the layers rustled as she made her way through the halls with a fae-like grace that had required some adjustment when transitioning from her human form.
Leaving through a pair of double glass pane doors, she was welcomed into the gardens, the sweet scent of flowers filling her nostrils and setting her further at ease. The light of the late afternoon caused her shadow to cast over each plot of planted earth she passed, giving them momentary reprieve from the rays of the golden sun. The shadows moved again with the rustle of wind which sent brilliant colors shimmying and waving their splendor in response. Elain’s full lips spread in a gentle, appreciative smile, pausing at a shrub of pink Camellias that were bright and in bloom. Her delicate fingers stroked the smooth petals, slipping further along its base and down its stem. Elain examined it with interest and care, slowly she produced a small pair of shears and reached up to *clip* the stem at an angle. The flower came away clean, her fingertips giving it a small twirl. It was a nearly perfect blossom, its beauty and simplicity causing her chest to swell with a wave of pride. As the petals came to her nose, she sniffed. She had been able to scent the sweet aroma before she even plucked it from the shrub, but perhaps the still human part of her required the action out of habit.
Elain pulled the flower away, her light eyes looking at the shadows before her. A smile, a bright and brilliant as the blossom appeared upon her soft features. “You were able to come.” She mused as shadows took form and revealed the reason for her calm, the reason for such a lovely smile: Azriel.
The fae took another step towards him, rising onto the tips of her lilac flats, extending her hand and placing the flower in his rich, dark hair, just above his ear. The pink petals were so at odds with his tan skin and night-colored hair making it stand out starkly. Her smile only furthered as she drank him in, the softest giggle burbling up in her chest. “It compliments your outfit.” she mused, offering the shadowsinger a sheepish grin.
The Cauldron chose three sisters.
Archeron Sisters as paintings by Dongni Hou
Lady Death🖤 by xohikka [twitter]