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elaineasaur · 2 years

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HC: Elain, your neighbourhood friendly witch 😊

Warning: A few F-bombs. This spiraled more than I originally intended, but who cares?! little bit of HC for Elain sprinkled with sweet nothings and a mini fic at the end ☺️☺️☺️ Let’s go!

Imagine this: As a witch Elain, who is very nature-oriented, would explore her powers by unleashing them through her baking and gardening.

Elain could easily fell into a Divination Witch role as her cauldron-blessed powers push her too be. She also has affinity for being a Kitchen Witch or a Green Witch. So she does not pledge herself to only one category, choosing to navigate through the different pull of nature and explore her connections.

Her divination comes from her seer powers; a chaotic mass of dreams, visions and feeling that Elain is learning how to control and summon. She can peer through the different conceptions of time and reality. For her, seeing different futures is as common as the sun rising every day. Foreign urges and hidden pulls are the hardest to tame, but she will learn.

One of Elain’s pleasure in life comes from bringing joy through food. She loves to cook and play with different spices and shapes and textures. Little by little she starts to infuse her magic into the things she makes. Her hands converting into a powerful tool of release for all the accumulate power and energy.

The different benefits of roots and vegetables, spices and herbs – she’ve read them all. After Nyx’s birth the kitchen has a semi-permanent parsley and turmeric scent, broths and soups always boiling to nurse Feyre back to health.

When a certain illyrian is gloom, she’ll bake his favorite pastry. Softly humming as she kneads the dough to perfection, wishing to sooth and brighten his day as she adds the lemon juice and sugar and nightberries in a pot to create the filing. She makes sure to bake two batches, or else Cassian’s sharp nose will find the hidden treats and leave nothing for her shadowsinger.

When Cassian leaves the river house his hands are usually packed with plasters of Arnica, Aloe vera and Yarrow for Nesta’s training bruises, plus a special yellowish blend of herbs that when mixed with cold water will ease the aches of the muscles. A similar blend to the brownish one she placed in Rhys’ office to help with his knee pain.

Every garden she ever helped to tend has bloomed to perfection. They’re vibrant and full of life. Fruits, herbs, flowers. She can grow anything that she puts her mind to. She wishes good fortune and health for those who crossed her path to learn something or teach her something.

Velaris citizens love her. She knows a lot of them by name, having helped many families after the war. They gift her with fruits that she never tasted before and trinkets that she cherishes dearly. When she shops, the children offer to carry her parcels as a ‘thank you’, for Elain is the best story teller they know. No one brings a tale to life like her. Even the fae-children-stories that she learned recently are enacted with passion.

She can wave her finger to move stones and shake the branches. The scents she describes can be smelled in the air. Her voice can change from smooth to scary in heartbeat. The sky can go from sunny to cloudy in seconds. Sometimes even shadows seem to bend at her will, casting images on the stone walls that fit the theme of the day. She can also heal knee bruises and aching tummies with honey-night-cakes.

Elain has attended every festival held in town, small or big. Trading arms with Nuala and Cerridwen to adventure through the stalls, their corporeal bodies cool to the touch. He treads behind them when he can. They girls talk so much one wouldn’t know they see each other frequently. Nuala chooses exotic types of food. Cerridwen is obsessed with varieties of alcohol. Elain stops to watch every performance, enthusiastically clapping at the jaw-dropping talents. Taking her time to taste every food and drink. Taking her boots off to dance until her feet hurt.

The bonfire crackles as the twins teach her their favorite dances. They tease her changing from corporal to mist to trick her hands and feet. Which earns them glares and gushes of air that leave their hairs a mess. When she is tired of goofing, he steps in. Twirling her so fast her giggles becomes a full laughter, the bonfire flames roaring wilder in answer. His hazel eyes are amused even when she dirties his boots with her muddy foot. Azriel is a terrific dancer who knows every step by heart. His steady hands guide her at the jolly rhythm of the flutes, bandola and drums, and Elain dances until her hair is sticking in her face. The musicians are filled with extra stamina that night, happy and energetic, hunger or thirst never crossing their minds.

That’s how Elain grows to infuse magic into ordinary things without noticing.

One day she helps a friend with her bussiness. Mini fic bellow 👇🏽👇🏽

Her carefree morning stroll came to halt in front of Stardust Bakery. Her eyes twinkling at the sign of her gift still flush with life in front of the shop. But that wasn’t the only thing that made her happy, no. The shop was packed like never before. Elain made way through the tables filled with adults and children who chat and ate different types of pastries, some of them eating while standing, some of them still in line waiting for a chance to order.

From behind the counter a tall female spotted her. The corner of her green eyes wrinkling as a wide smile graced her lips, her short brown hair bobbing around her shoulder as she excitedly waved at Elain.

“You have so many clients!” Elain beamed.

“I have so many fucking clients!” Mellinda repeated delighted. “Thank you!”

Elain clicked her tongue in dismissal, “Please, you are the one who bakes delicious treats.”

“Yes, but if it wasn’t for you they wouldn’t know my talents. Your gift was truly blessed!”

“You flatter me.”

“I mean it. There was a fucking line waiting for me to open the bakery today. A fucking line Elain! I’ve been working non-stop, it’s amazing. Let’s get you an apron.”

Elain laughed as Mellinda dragged her to the counter, asking assistince with the orders.

The two females meet at the market around a year ago when Elain was lost amongst unknow spices. Mellinda taught her what was tart or spicy, what was woody or citrus, what went well with meals and what favored desserts, and Elain treated her to a meal. Mellinda was friendly, slipped a ‘fuck’ in every other sentence, had a sister in Day Court and was saving to open a bakery in the City of Starlight. Now the small shop had been in business for three months, but had no luck with attracting a clientele.

One night Elain woke up with Mellinda in mind, a vivid image of two white vases manifesting in her dreams. She knew exactly where to find them. The 20 inches trumpet vases were made of white ceramic with a smooth surface. Elain filled them with a bubbly pink combination of Chrysanthemums, Peonies and Azaleas, placing buds, stems and foliage at different angles for volume.

Her hands were stead and careful, her soft murmurs resonating in the quiet bedroom. Elain praised the flowers’ beauty, thanking them for the work they would perform, asking for their longevity, wishing good fortune and prosperity for her friend’s bakery. The flowers bloomed and swayed under Elain’s guidance. She asked Nuala for a pot of the characteristic dark blue ink she used for rites, using it to draw a combination of whorls at the vase base, Feyre’s old brush warming and buzzing underneath her fingertips. On the top, Elain tied a golden silk string twice, wishing good luck and wealth for her friend.

The next morning she gifted the vases to Mellinda, whose eye’s shined with unshed tears. Elain told her to place them by the front door, outside the bakery. One at the left, one at the right.

“Don’t you think is best if I place them inside? To preserve the flowers.” Mellinda asked.

“They are meant to be outside,” Elain explained, “Don’t worry, they won’t die. They are happy to be here and help you.”

Mellinda looked at her curiously, but did not argue, placing the vases were Elain wanted and inviting her in.

The next day, the bakery was flowing with curious and clients.

Three weeks later, Mellinda could already spot some regulars.

Three months later, the flowers were yet to wither.

—–

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elaineasaur · 2 years

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chapter four ✗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSERIES MASTERLIST. KO-FI. LIBRARY.

pairing: azriel x fem!reader; azriel x fem!oc

series summary: When a burning white star hurtles through the atmosphere on Starfall, Azriel is taken down a path of enlightenment that will change him—and the world—forever. As the Night Court grapples for peace and Prythian teeters on the edge of war once more, myths and promises collide to form truths that rattle the stars.

author's note: This is another tiny, baby set-up chapter. I debated combining it with the next chapter, but I wanted to go ahead and get it out to you guys since it's been a bit since the last update with the holidays and everything. Please reblog / comment / shoot me a message and let me know what you think! Happy Holidays!

chapter warnings: cursing, that's really it?

word count: 2.2k

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

There was a deep growl from the end of the table. Perhaps if every thought in your head wasn’t already rapidly swirling towards a mental drain that would soon empty its sewage onto your plate, the sound would have terrified you.

Ignoring several sets of broad, squared shoulders and curled lips, you pressed on. “Wouldn’t you think I’d know if I’d lived for thousands of years?” The feel of the cool metal fork gripped in your fist was all that was tethering you to this strange, unearthly reality. “Don’t you think I’d know it by now if I had some sort of power? God – if I did, if I’d had any sort of power at all, I’d have –”

No.

They would not have the satisfaction of hearing your voice crack.

“You’d have what?” Amren challenged, eyes glittering with cold.

“It doesn’t matter.” Not now. “I don’t have any power.” And God, wasn’t that the truth? Hadn’t that always been your truth? “You’re – you’re all crazy, and I’m stuckhere, and –”

Breath alluded your lungs, and your chest felt so very tight, so strained, that you knew this was either panic or death. Either way, the violent thing clawing at your weary heart would drag you into its darkness soon enough.

A rattled, airless laugh pushed past your lips. “And apparently, on top of everything, I smell like an old person.”

“Youdon’t smell old,” the dark-haired, cruel woman corrected tiredly, silvery eyes rolling backward as if she were explaining something to a child for the umpteenth time. “Your blood smells old. Ancient. Powerful. I can smell it across the room, through your skin. Like an obnoxious perfume.” She smiled through red-painted lips. “Bet it tastes powerful, too.”

The expression painting your face must have been one of horror and repulsion because, even despite his blatant disapproval of your own reactions, Rhysand hissed through clenched teeth. “Amren.”

Slowly, she swiveled her head on her long, elegant neck and offered him a barely apologetic shrug of her shoulders, but there was something there in her eyes, swirling just beneath the black depths of her pupils. Deference.

Reluctant deference, but it was there. Interesting.

“I lost my taste for blood after the war, girl.” She returned to examining her nails, making it clear that there would be no other apology from her. Perhaps that was the only apology someone—something—like Amren was capable of offering. “I was only reinforcing what I’d already said. There is nothing human or youthful about the power that pulses in your veins.”

You began to open your mouth to protest once more, but Elain nodded, honeyed tresses bouncing over her shoulder with the motion. “I sense it, too.”

Nesta furrowed her brows. “You can… smell her power?” From her question and the look upon her face, it was clear that she wasn’t able to discern whatever it was that Amren was so sure lived beneath your skin.

Elain shook her head. “I can’t smell whatever it is that Amren does.” She offered you a soft, apologetic smile as if regretfully remembering how you’d detested being told you smelled old. “But it’s like I can almost see it. It’s how… whenever someone is standing in front of a window, just after the sun sets, right before the sky goes completely dark, and all that warm, orangey haze sort of… encases them. It wraps around their skin and makes them glow, just faintly...” She cocked her head slightly, eyeing you considerately, and you fought a chill that snaked down your skin at the feeling that she was seeing something no one else could. “As if they were a part of the sun itself.”

Every pair of eyes at the table turned to you, tightening in their scrutiny, except for Azriel’s. His hazel gaze remained on that beautiful, soft-featured Fae woman beside him. As if he could see something no one else could.

Even as the hairs on your arms raised at the words she had spoken—at their certainty, at the hint of reverence in her tone—you insisted, “That’s impossible. All of this is… it’s impossible. It’s insane.”

“You thought the Fae were myths until only yesterday,” Feyre reminded you gently.

Fair point. “It’s a bit different when everyone is so insistent that you’re the myth,” you snarked instead.

Amren’s mouth twitched as if she weren’t quite finished with her earlier insistences, but Rhysand cut her a warning look that settled those red-painted lips back into a singular line of indifference. The High Lord turned to you, bright eyes a sharp contrast to the serious planes and angles of his face. “A fair point, dearest Dove.”

For a moment, your heart stalled inside your chest at the overly familiar words.

“What?” you practically sputtered, chest revived and racing away at the impossible thought that clanged through your mind… No. Even here, even in this strange corner of this strange universe, that was impossible. It was mere coincidence. Still, you found yourself narrowing your eyes on the barely perceptible hint of a smirk at his lips as you asked, “What did you just say?”

The others at the table watched the exchange as if spectating a tennis match, stares bouncing between you and the High Lord, but you didn’t care. Not as your heart hammered so wildly beneath your rib cage that you feared it might impale itself on the very curved bones meant to protect it. Not as your mind kept screaming with that absurd, that impossible, suspicion triggered by Rhysand’s words.

His dark brows furrowed over violet eyes. “I was merely acknowledging that you made a fair point.” One raised in synchronization with the corner of his mouth. “Is something wrong?”

The barely restrained expression on his face made you think he very well knew that something was wrong, but you simply shook your head, feigning composure, and shrugged. “I just couldn’t believe you were actually agreeing with me. That’s all.”

Violet shone a little brighter. “I’d hardly say acknowledgement is agreement.”

“Close enough.”

He only grinned, showing you a set of white, straight teeth, and turned to Feyre. A silent conversation seemed to pass between the pair before she sent a truly dazzling smile in your direction. The Fae were impossibly beautiful creatures.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed seeing you give my mate a run for his coins,” she began, mussing his mop of black hair. Mate. There was that word again. “I have a class to teach this morning, and Nyx should be waking soon.”

A hundred more questions swirled around that mental drain that emptied heedlessly into your mouth, but Rhysand only noted your expression and said, “Later,” kissing his mate goodbye, his gaze trailing her as she exited to the balcony, the vision of impossible grace. You blinked rapidly as she sprouted a pair of wings from her back as if a magician brandishing a rabbit beneath a hat and took to the skies, sailing through the air as if nothing more than a feather on the wind.

Nesta was watching you amusedly—as amusedly as her tight-lipped demeanor would seem to allow—as you looked between the remaining Fae sisters and asked, “Can… can you all do that?”

“Just Feyre.”

A honey-dipped strawberry on your tongue, you chewed over her response.

At some point, your head would explode with the influx of new information about this world and the faeries, and who truly knew what else, that inhabited it. Perhaps the others suspected as much, because the remainder of breakfast comprised of the table guests conversing with one another, leaving you to eat absent of their questions and presumptions and confusing lexicon.

No sooner than you had finished the final piece of bacon on your plate and placed your silverware neatly atop it did the entire place setting—dishes and silverware and napkin included—disappear into thin air. Blinking back your surprise, you looked up to meet Elain’s entertained expression. “The House is magic. It knows what we need, and it takes care of us.” When you couldn’t restrain an eyebrow from turning loose and raising in disbelief, she laughed softly. “It takes some getting used to – all of it. Prythian, the Faerie Lands… I know. It took me a while, too.”

Garnering her meaning, you slowly relaxed the crease in your forehead. “You weren’t born here? In the… Faerie Lands?”

She shook her head, and you couldn’t ignore how Azriel seemed to watch every fine aspect of the movement, every bounce of her long, wavy hair. “It’s a long story, but no. My sisters and I, we were born human.”

You wanted to press on, to get the answers that would quell at least a fewof those seemingly infinite, swirling questions in your head, but Azriel spoke first, voice deep and final. “A story for another day.”

“Right,” you nodded, trying and failing to hide your disappointment. “Another day.”

“Yes.” Rhysand folded his napkin neatly and dropped it atop his plate, the chinaware disappearing before your very eyes. “There will be plenty of time to share your stories with our guest later, Azriel.”

When Azriel simply turned to the High Lord with what you could only guess was the slightest flicker of puzzlement, Cassian snorted. “Haven’t you heard, brother?”

A hazel-ringed glance between brothers was all the emotion he allowed. “Seems not.”

“Since you were so great at it last time, Rhys has decided to renew your chaperoning contract.”

It was your turn to pass a glance between the table’s occupants. “Chaperoning?” One glance at the mostly stoic-faced man seated before you told you enough—he did far more demanding, deadly things for the High Lord than chaperoning.

“One of Azriel’s many specialties,” Rhysand offered from behind his cup of coffee.

The only tell of his annoyance was a subtle tick of Azriel’s jaw. “I’m needed in Montesere.”

Another huff of laughter blew from Nesta’s nostrils, and Amren only rolled her eyes as Cassian threw a grape across the table, hitting Azriel squarely in the center of his muscled chest. “Come on, Az. Surely Dove’s more interesting than Montesere’s skulking and scheming.”

“I don’t need a chaperone,” you insisted before Azriel could audibly confirm or deny just how interesting he found you.

“You do if you’re to step foot outside this house, girl.” Amren’s gaze moved pointedly from your face to the set of windows just beyond the dining table, their broad panes offering an unparalleled view of the city below. Rhysand’s earlier mentioning of the House being inescapable outside of flying or winnowingcame to mind. Silver-ringed eyes flickered to the head of the table. “And I’m assuming Rhysand has some use for you in the city.”

“I do.” At the arching of your brow, he added: “You’re to work with Madja, my personal healer, three days a week. I think we’re all a little curious about what you can do with your years of study.” You didn’t miss the slight challenge in his voice. “And on the remaining days, you’ll be needed in the library.” Nesta particularly seemed to show interest in that, to which Rhysand nodded towards her. “There is a scholar there, Nesta tells me, who would be very interested in speaking with you. She’s spent years researching the possibility of the existence of other worlds. How they are potentially connected. You can see how the two of you might have much to discuss.”

Biting back the urge to snap at being told what to do, you nodded slowly. The mention of someone—of a scholar—who might have an understanding of how you had ended up here in this world, of how you could return home to your own, set your heart skipping in your chest.

Rhysand turned to Azriel. “You can split your time between Velaris and Montesere. Escort Dove to where she’s needed in the city in the mornings, and then check in on our friends on the continent until she’s finished with her duties in the afternoons.” Seemingly sensing some unexpressed discontent from his brother, Rhysand added, looking to you as well: “The weekends are yours to do as you wish.”

“And if Azriel’s weekend plans don’t match up with my own? Am I to stay locked away in this house?”

“He will be more than accommodating.” There was a tone of finality, of demand, as Rhysand cast a serious glance to his brother. “But if Azriel is unavailable to fly you into the city, Cass might be willing.” With an easy grin, he jested, “Assuming you can pry him from his mate.”

Again, you nodded, chewing over your options, which weren’t many. Either refuse to Rhysand’s terms and risk a much more unpleasant—possibly painful—confinement oragree to his arrangement of your time and potentially discover a way back to Philadelphia, to Wyatt and Priyal and Dr. Rao, and to what awaited you in California when your residency would begin in just a few short weeks.

The choice was easy.

“And when will I begin?”

Rhysand seemed entirely unsurprised by your sudden acquiescence. “Tomorrow morning.” He eyed your dripping hair and generally disheveled appearance. “Bright and early.”

Sitting a little straighter against the broad-backed dining chair, you squared your shoulders, looking between the High Lord and his brother. Azriel’s shadows curled around his ears. “Then I’ll be ready first thing.”

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elaineasaur · 2 years

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who's gonna tell her?

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elaineasaur · 3 years

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Alright y’all here ya go the Wrath bonus content from Barnes and Noble.

* Even though it’s Kotc bonus content. It is spoiler free for those who are reading or have not read kotc. Basically it’s three chapters of kotw set in Wrath’s pov.

*Im still going to use the spoiler tag just as a precaution for anyone who might reply or reblog with this with any kotc content

Wrath pov chp.1

Wrath pov chp.3

Wrath pov chp.5

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elaineasaur · 3 years

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Why Elriel is most definitely a Sleeping Beauty Retelling!

Since this was brought up a few days ago I cannot get the idea out my head that Sarah is basing Elriel’s story on Sleeping Beauty, and now we know she hid crumbs in her other books, alongside a quick browse of her pinterest boards it seems more and more likely! Especially since she loves her retellings.

A daughter was born, and they called her Aurora. Yes, they named her after the dawn for she filled their lives with sunshine.

Listen well, all of you. The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. She’ll walk in springtime wherever she goes!

There are so many parallels between Elain and Aurora, they are both beloved by all, kind creatures who thrive in springtime. Aurora is named for after the dawn because she filled their lives with sunshine, A) tell me this isn’t Elain and B) the meaning of her name;

Elaine as a girl’s name is of Greek origin meaning “sun ray or shining light”.

Yet another parallel is Aurora believing they still treat her as a child, who does that remind you of?

Oh, dear. Why do they still treat me like a child?

Even if love is full of thorns, I’d still embrace it. I know that in between those thorns there is a rose worth all the pain.

Could this be any more spot on? We have spoken extensively about Elains, not only willingness to get her hands dirty but the pleasure she derives from creating something beautiful from her labour. If this isn’t a metaphor for Azriel and their future situation I don’t know what is…

This is very important, it keeps getting brought back up in text to show us Elain is going to fight through the bad to get to what she wants. Her hands might bruise and bloody in the process but she will to do it to enjoy the fruits of her labour.

Which leads me to why even further than a Sleeping Beauty retelling I think it will be Elain saving Azriel and breaking a curse/spell. Let us look to SJM’s pinterest board shall we!

These are just a few of the SB reminiscent pins she has saved, one of the more recent ones in the bottom right. Notice it is the girl saving the man, tell me you do not get immediate Elriel vibes from that, the roses, the colours.

There also seems to be a lot of cursed/chained art too, I definitely think something is going to happen to Azriel that Elain has to save him from, my best guess would be Koschei.

Elain’s story thus far has heavily emphasised on choice, as we have seen through her interactions with Lucien and their bond overall, hence why I think it will be her making the choice to save him rather than him coming for her.

He has already saved her, it is time for her to shine. It would also grant her the opportunity to explore her own agency, and not what is expected of her.

A ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give to thee. Not in death, but just in sleep, the fateful prophecy you’ll keep, and from this slumber you shall wake, when true love’s kiss, the spell shall break.

I think that it is interesting considering she is a seer, that Sleeping Beauty has so many references to visions, fate and so on, after the Azriel POV where we are shown he clearly believes it is fate that three sisters would all fall for three bothers.

Almost like it is… Fate.

This will be the ultimate moment where Elain gets to decide her future and potentially follow her own fate. Not to mention we know the Cauldron loves Elain and gifted her with her abilities, could this be another tie-in, gifting her the ability to wake/heal Azriel?

But see the gracious whim of fate - why, ‘tis the self-same peasant maid, who won the heart of our noble prince but yesterday. She is indeed, most wondrous fair, gold of sunshine in her hair, Lips that shame the red rose, in ageless sleep, she finds repose. The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart, are but a day. And now, the gates of a dungeon part, and our prince is free to go his way. Off he rides, on his noble steed, a valiant figure, straight and tall! To wake his love, with love’s first kiss, and prove that true love conquers all!

Love’s first kiss? Could this be why she didn’t allow them to kiss in the hallway… Anything is possible but the parallels are certainly interesting at this point you can’t deny!

Also here are a few more little crumbs she could have been planting through the series, the colours we most see Elain in are pinks and blues and the most run along joke through the movie is her dress being changed from one colour to the other… Nothing major but certainly interesting.

These were by no means the only references to her wearing those colours I am just trying to be brief.

Not to mention Roses really took a bigger role in ACOSF in regards to associating them with Elain, while she certainly had past references to them before but adding in her fathers gifts and Azriels gift both being roses. Hmmmmmmm.

There was a few more little things but I would love to hear everyone else’s thoughts!!!! If not SB what retelling would you think? I am a die hard Hades/Persephone fan so I am sad that is already been done because LBR they are perfect for it hahah

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