#the hewn city
Nesta Archeron, Death Incarnate, 7/?
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Elain, Black, and the Hewn City
I’ve been asked this question so many times that I’ve decided to make a post about it, to share my thoughts on Elain not looking good in black, what this means for her future character arc, and whether this hints at her eventually leaving the Night Court.
Please note that this is my personal interpretation of that scene.
I think that the whole scene was deliberate.
I think that Elain wore that specific dress to not draw any attention to herself.
Why? Because Nesta was the one who had to shine that night. She was the one who was supposed to stand out, to capture Eris’s attention and thoroughly seduce him.
He was already interested in Elain. We’ve known this since ACOWAR.
It is his interest in ACOWAR (stemming from his dislike of Lucien, his alleged desire to hurt him) that leads to this scene in ACOSF:
So, it is decided. Nesta will be the one dancing with Eris—the person who will seduce and distract him.
Note: Nesta’s dress belongs to Mor.
Meanwhile, Elain’s dress has the complete opposite effect (Cassian himself draws a comparison between the two):
A long-sleeved, modest black gown.
She had let her hair down, pinning it back with twin combs of pearl.
No paint on her lips, no kohl lining her eyes—no color on her face.
Plain. Unassuming. Forgotten.
Just as she wanted to be.
I think Elain deliberately chose this dress, this style, knowing fully well that it does not complement her, that she does not look particularly good in it.
If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have escaped Eris’s (or anyone else’s) notice.
Because Eris cares about appearances.
(A special thank you to @onceupona-chaos for this great find!)
Like a good future spy, she knows when to blend in, when to disappear.
And it works.
Remember that, in the Hewn City, they are all wearing costumes. They are all wearing clothes that are meant to draw attention, to fool people into believing that they are something they are not (or to draw attention away from themselves, in Elain’s case).
Maas mentioned the color black, yes, but she also specifically mentioned how modest the gown is, the long sleeves.
Later that night, we see a different side of Elain (and remember, she is still in the Night Court):
The “ill-suited” black dress.
I don’t doubt for a second that Elain knew exactly what she was doing.
Let’s also take a moment and analyze Nesta’s dress from her first visit to the Hewn City:
Amren had chosen her clothes. She had a role to play, and she had to look the part.
She was also not meant to draw too much attention to herself—so her and Amren could leave without drawing too much attention, so others wouldn’t be curious about her, would dismiss her as nonthreatening.
Compare her dress in ACOWAR to her dress in ACOSF, and you’ll understand what I mean.
Everyone who has read ACOTAR should know by now that the Hewn City is almost like a rite of passage to the Night Court.
Feyre felt as out of place as both, Nesta and Elain, the first time she went with the others.
Then, she came back as a conqueror. As their High Lady. And she played her role to perfection.
The same thing happened with Nesta. She was easily forgettable during that first visit, unforgettable during the second.
As this was Elain’s first visit to the Hewn City, I think it's safe to assume that a second visit will take place soon—in ACOTAR 5, perhaps? And we are not ready.
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The Night Court Jewelry Vault, 13/?
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Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court, 29/?
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An Insider’s Guide to the Night Court: the Hewn City, 1/?
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La Ville de Lumieres is on a mountain. Like the city of Markarth in Skyrim, it's multileveled and pretty rocky. The architecture is different, though.
Cassian x Pascale : Part Ten
Pascale moved backwards quickly, pressing her back against the wall. Her breath hitched as the demon smiled down at her, shrinking itself to the size of an adolescent giant. “I have been waiting a long time for you to come to me”
Pascale saw Cassian struggling against the sheer power this demon held. Pascale straightened her back and she lifted up her chin. She had to keep his attention away from the others. “I don’t know what you mean”
Pascale choked on her own spit. Her jaw wavered and she clenched her fists, sliding her feet slightly apart, bending her knees slightly. She pulled her hair over to the side and twirled it slowly. Putting on a false bravado, Pascale answered, “Demons aren’t really my type. Especially ones that attack six year olds”
The demon stilled. His entire eyes were pitch black, with six pointed stars in the middle. Pascale gasped as she watched his face contort. Confusion. Realization. Anger. Cassian’s scent.
“Don’t touch him” Pascale hissed. The demon turned around and saw the Illyrian covered in red Siphons. Pascale growled and she ran at the demon. She flapped her wings and wrapped her legs around his back, twisting them both.
She winced as she fell onto her back, the demon on top of her. “Run! Cassian, please, run!” Pascale grunted as the demon pulled at her legs, sliding her across the room. She wheezed as her back hit the wall.
“You only have a fraction of my power. Do you really want to do this, Pascale?”
Pascale pulled herself up, kicking off her shoes and holding them in her hands. “Game on” She flung her heels at both his eyes and ran towards him again, ducking each of his blows.
The wind was knocked out of her as he punched her in the stomach and then flipped her over. Pascale screamed as he tossed her into the air and she banged against the ceiling. Pascale fell down with a sickening crack, landing on her back. She moaned and rolled over slowly.
She was only bruised. The demon didn’t want to hurt her. Pascale knelt on her knees and she let the demon come close to her. “Pascale, don’t” Pascale ignored Cassian. She stared up at the demon.
“I’m sorry. I’m yours” She kept the disgust from her voice. Ease settled over his face. He only wanted acceptance. Pascale pounced, blocking the thought out of her mind. She gripped the back of his neck and kneed him in between his thighs, then punched him in the face.
The demon grabbed her waist and flipped her around, slamming her onto the ground. Pascale yelped in pain, as she landed on her shoulder. She whimpered and slowly dragged herself across the floor. She looked back. He wasn’t even winded. Oh gods.
“Liar” The demon seethed.
“It’s my speciality” Pascale spat out blood on the six pointed star. She didn’t realize what she had done until the demon kicked her like a soccer ball. She screeched as her body slammed through the wall, creating a crater.
He got stronger by using her blood.
Pascale wheezed. She struggled to pull herself out of the crater. She fell on her back and she saw the demon sucking her blood up from the six-pointed star. Occupied. Good. She needed a thousand moments.
Cassian rushed over and knelt by her side and Pascale moaned, pulling herself onto her knees. He grabbed her face and threw a red shield around them. Pascale whimpered and she kissed Cassian slowly. “I told you to run”
“Males tend not to listen to reason when their females are in danger” Pascale smiled. She brushed his face and nuzzled his nose. Of course he wouldn’t listen. Pascale whimpered and she tilted her head back as Cassian nuzzled her neck.
“Guys!” Feyre screamed. Right. The demon.
The demon snarled and he saw Cassian. His large nostrils took in his scent, causing him to growl. You’re mine, he had said. The demon advanced towards Cassian. Pascale jumped up, her bones lighting on fire, filled with rage. She put all her force into her arms as she threw her hands out, stopping the demon a few inches away from Cassian. Pascale grunted as her hands met his stone-hard skin. She groaned and held her ground as the demon snarled down at her, trying to throw her aside. Then she shoved, her shoulders buckling, and the demon went sliding back across the floor of stars.
“I said, don’t touch him” Pascale snarled loudly. She crouched down, cracking her fingers. She watched the demon slowly pull himself back up. He snarled and stared at Azriel, Mor, Rhys, and Feyre in the corner.
“How about them?”
“No!” Pascale and Cassian screamed at the same. Pascale ran at the demon as Cassian ran towards his friends. She slid across the floor and between the demons legs then knelt before her friends. She screamed as she flung her wings out, gripping onto the floor as the demon unleashed his powers.
Cassian’s roars mingled with hers as Pascale’s back shuddered. She looked up through her tears and saw the horror on her friend’s faces. Pascale looked back and she saw her wings, the only barrier between them and the dark magic.
Pascale spread her wings wider, engulfing all five of them inside of them. Tears ran down her face as the black magic tried to rip her wings from her body. She arched her back and screamed louder, her knees buckling as she tried to stand up.
Pascale could barely hear Cassian’s roars and bellows. She focused on his face, using him as an anchor so she didn’t pass out. Pascale whimpered. He had done this. Her Cassian had done this for Azriel. She wondered if the horror on their faces were worse, because they had witnessed this before.
But the demon wouldn’t hurt her. Not badly, anyway. The magic drew back and Pascale fell to her knees. She panted, looking back at her wings. They were...fine. Pascale sobbed and she stood to her knees, turning around.
“You want a female? Well you chose the wrong one” She knocked the demon forward with all the strength she could muster. Both of them fell down into the large pit this thing had crawled out of. Pascale grunted as they landed on the ground.
Her bones felt like they were melting, but she clung on tight to the monster. Pascale punched his face in again and again, snarling at him to yield. He didn’t want to hurt her, but Pascale had no problem beating him back to Hell.
Pascale heard her knuckles cracking as she pummeled his stone face. She screamed at the demon. She slammed her fist again and again into his face. She snarled, turning completely feral. “Yield!”
The demon threw her out of the pit. Pascale flung her wings out, stopping her mid air. She had been fighting like him. She needed to fight like an Illyrian. Pascale watched the demon pull himself out of the pit. “Males yield to their females. Yield” Pascale flew down at him, she dodged his magic, pulling her wings in tight. She kicked his knee, and watched it buckle.
She shot back into the sky and landed on his shoulder. “Pascale!” Mor tossed her sword into the air. Pascale flew at it and she tucked to the side, hugging the steal to her chest as the demon tried to pin her to the wall.
She winced and only moved enough not to pin her wings. She panted as the demon pinned her against the wall. Blood dripped down her chin as she felt her eyes closing. “If you want me,” Pascale whispered, “I’m yours”
“You are a liar” He hissed. Pascale whimpered as he shoved her harder against the wall, his claws digging into the wound Tamlin had left. But he didn’t touch her wings.
“I admit, I’m rather good at it, yes. I don’t fit in here. With the Illyrians or them. And it’s because of you isn’t it, I’m drawn to you?” Pascale refused to meet the gaze of her friends. She struggled to breath, her neck bent back and digging into the hard and rocky wall.
“Yes” The demon bowed his head. Pascale gasped for breath, but she kept the sword gripped tightly in between her bloody fingers.
“I woke you up for a reason. I needed you. I’m not the one that started a mini war” Pascale paused, letting the demon lean forward, his Hell hot breath making the back of her neck sweat. “I need you. I choose you”
Pascale hid her cringe at Cassian’s sound of distress. She closed her eyes and braced her toes on the wall. She waited for the demon’s answer. When he stayed silent, Pascale continued. “You gave me a gift. It has kept me alive for so long. Thank you. You chose me. Let me choose you” Pascale turned her head to the side, looking into his starry eyes. “Yield to me, and I am yours”
There was a long pause and Pascale felt the demon tracing the six-pointed star scar at the back of her neck. He dragged his finger across each point. “Hewn. Nightmares. Blood. Arouse. You. Me” That’s what those names were. “You listened to me. No one has ever let me out of my prison”
Prison. Oh gods. “I was trapped here for so long. Set me free” Pascale squeezed her eyes shut. She loosened a breath and nodded soothingly.
The demon let go of her and Pascale fell down to the ground. She stared up at the demon and watched as he slowly bowed down. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes.
Pascale stood up. She sliced the blade across her palm, covering it’s tip in her blood. She walked over to the demon, placing her bloody palm on it’s forehead. “I don’t choose you” Pascale jerked forward, slicing through the demons chest before her words could fully comprehend. Pascale felt like she was betraying him.
He’s a demon.
She grunted and held his head, as he drooped on top of her shoulder. He was still yielding, even as she was killing him. Set me free. Pascale sighed and she closed her eyes. “I am not yours” Pascale yanked the blade out. His skin felt normal, it had when she had placed her hand on it. He had yielded for her. For the hope and possibility of being hers.
“Try again in another century or five” Pascale dragged her hand off his forehead. She watched the demon tilt his head back, the stars dying in his hand. Pascale spun around and she swung her blade down, watching his head roll. “You’re free”
She panted and dropped Mor’s blade, covered in deep blue, almost black blood. Pascale wheezed and she looked down at herself. Completely covered in her own blood and his.
Pascale stumbled back. She spun around and ran towards Cassian. She gasped as the Illyrian male picked her up, wiping her face free of blue-black blood. He held her face tightly in his hands and kissed her deeply, stroking her wings over and over again. “I’m so sorry” They both whispered at the same time. Pascale smiled and she shook her head, kissing her Illyrian again.
“You’re not completely disgusted? That I belong to a demon?”
“A dead one by the looks of it”
“Sleeping” Pascale corrected. Everything else seemed to fall away as Cassian stroked her wings, holding her blood soaked body against his. She braced her hands against two of his Siphons, kissing him again. “We’re probably going to have to deal with him in another five hundred years, give or take a few decades”
Cassian wrapped her legs around his waist, running his palms up her bruises. He nodded, kissing her again. Mor violently cleared her throat and she poked the demon. “Uh...I hate to interrupt your little...reunion other there, but what are we supposed to do with him? And put her down, Cassian. Anyone could be watching”
“I actually think everyone ran away scared” Azriel smirked. He tossed the demon’s head inside the pit and dragged his body after it. Azriel flew out and they all watched as the floor returned to normal.
“Who would have known the Court of Nightmares held a demon beneath it’s dance floor” Feyre crossed her arms. She covered her mouth and let loose a small sigh.
“Was this a total waste of time?” Mor crossed her arms. She handed Pascale her heels, dragging her off of Cassian. Pascale gaped at Mor and she grunted, sliding her heels back on.
“He was on the scrolls for a reason. I think we either have to lock the King into one of these nice little prisons or cram him in with Him”
“Easy as pie” Mor grumbled. She linked arms with Pascale and wiped the blood off her back. “Let’s get digging, my friends. We have a prison to build”
I might stop this fanfic for now. Only since I should focus more on my nanowrimo story (feel free to drop messages in my ask box about that). And also because I’m not sure if anyone is reading this anymore.
I might hold Part 11 (if there will ever be one) off for a while. Thanks for reading this part, though.
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Cassian x Pascale : Part Nine
“Is it a common thing for this Court not to cover themselves?” Pascale paced before the mountain entrance to the Court of Nightmares. She looked at Feyre and Mor dressed relatively the same way.
“I thought the same thing my first time here” Feyre laughed softly. She looked down at the dress she had originally worn here, the dress that had been seen by all, and- She stopped herself from thinking of what had happened the last time she wore a dress made of merely two long strips of midnight colored cloths and a silver belt. “I suppose you somehow get used to it”
“You don’t” Mor shrugged. She fixed her blonde hair and ran her hands down her dress. The dress was bright red with only one sleeve. The side opposite that sleeve had the longest slit down it known to man and Fae.
Pascale sighed. She nodded and rolled her shoulders back. She still wasn’t used to storing her wings inside her back. She took even breaths, which was nearly impossible in the rags Mor had called a dress.
The bright silver made her sparkle like a star. The dress had no sleeves and the front of it wrapped all the way around her neck and left her back bare. There were equally sized slits for her legs, all the way up to her hips. Then slits from under her arms to an inch above the first slit.
Pascale messed with the black and silver body jewelry and she looked at the silver paint that swirled around her arms like snakes. “Remember” Mor said. She gripped Pascale’s hand gently. “They all know us. You’ll have to walk in after us, hopefully all the attention will die off and only fall on you when you hit the floor. When you get to the Hewn City, bank left. The floor of stars is not far”
Pascale nodded. She flipped her straightened and softened hair over her shoulder. Her hair fly up and down in the wind, like a blanket of clouds. She sighed and took a deep breath. “Got it”
Mor nodded. She opened the doors to the entrance and she walked in with Feyre. Masks covered their faces. Masks of cold hard determination. They were all distractions. Even Pascale. Her the most.
Pascale waited three minutes before she slipped inside the mountain. She kept her head forward. Her eyes wandered slightly. The mountain held a city. Townhouses and taverns were at the top most level. Then the shops. Then where Pascale stood. And below her, two more layers.
Pathways of black and silver snaked their way through the city. The Court of Nightmares. Pascale continued to walk, getting used to the breeze that blew up her legs.
She kept her eyes uninterested, even as she felt eyes on her. Good. Pascale pushed her hair over her shoulder slowly, baring her slightly tanned skin. She felt if she stayed in here too long, she’d go horribly pale.
Pascale followed the distant red until she reached the doors of the Hewn City. Pascale walked through them, spreading her arms wide as she opened them. They closed with a soft click behind her.
She banked left as she saw Mor and Feyre continue to the throne. Holy Cauldron, Rhys’s throne. Surrounded by beasts and snakes, as if they watched over him, looking for someone to pounce on. Made of obsidian black stone. It almost made Pascale shudder.
Pascale found the floor of stars rather easily. She watched the others bump and grind and she internally groaned. Her mask slid over her own face and she slipped through the crowd.
The black bands around her thighs sucked in any light as Pascale walked through the crowd. Eyes followed her and Pascale only met a chosen few. She stopped in the middle of the floor and turned around slowly.
She sucked in her breath and grinned, biting her black bottom lip as arms slid around her, pressing her against a hard body. Men were really too easy. Pascale spun around and she wrapped his arms around her, focusing on the floor.
She moved around, letting his hands trail down her cold skin. No six-pointed star. Pascale slipped away into the crowd when the male turned around for a fraction of a second.
She bit her black lips again and wrapped her arm around another male. Everyone’s body was so cold, no matter how warm the moving bodies were. Pascale spun around and she slipped her leg between his. He growled and kissed behind her ear gently.
Pascale’s eyes flew to the ground for a split second. She groaned internally as she saw no six-pointed star. She wasn’t even sure if the floor had one. The male’s hand traveled dangerously low and Pascale continued to dance.
Pascale snaked around the dance floor, even dancing with females. She swayed her hips and snaked her arms above her head. The body was the best form of deception and manipulation.
Pascale slid across the floor and her breath jumped as a male, who was so different from the others, grabbed her. His hands traveled down her bare back and Pascale completely slid her leg through his, wrapping it around his right one.
She never said she was an amateur at this when Mor suggested how she would see the entire floor of stars. The male picked her up slightly and Pascale leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling.
She slowly bit her lip as the male dragged her back down his body. When she saw his face, she saw Mor. Same brown eyes, as cold and still as soil. Same blonde hair, bright and gold as the sun.
Pascale kept her face neutral as he spun her around quickly and pressed her back flush against his chest. Her face contorted and she clenched her jaw. Then she smiled smoothly and slowly began to bend her knees, sliding down his body.
The male stiffened then he leaned forward to grab her shoulders. Pascale snaked her body to the left and she slowly rolled back up, her eyes never leaving his. The male gripped the hair at the nape of her neck. Pascale purred softly and she rolled the rest of the way up his body.
She smirked, pressing her back tightly against his chest, no space between them. She kicked her leg up between his thighs, dragging her heel down the back of his leg. His breath snagged for a split moment in her ear, then he flipped her around again.
Pascale rolled her body against his in rhythm to the slow beat booming in her ears. She grinned like a vixen and she pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a stark black mark. Pascale rocked her hips back and forth and she grinned, before letting another Fae drag her away.
Her last dance partner watched her slip through the crowd, that black lip mark glowing bright until he disappeared too.
Cassian wanted to tear apart every male (and female) Pascale danced with. He kept his growls as bay as she surfed through the crowd, never turning anyone down. He clenched his fists and tore his eyes away.
When he lifted his eyes up a few moments later, Keir was walking off the floor of stars. Cassian stood up a bit straighter and his eyes narrowed. He snarled as he saw a black lip mark on his neck.
Azriel appeared beside him, his face completely neutral. He gave Cassian one warning glance, but he looked like he wanted to rip Keir limb from limb, over and over.
Mor appeared on Cassian’s other side. She paled as she saw the mark on her father’s neck. “That. Bastard” She hissed, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear. Mor flipped her hair back and she stared at Rhys longingly. Ever the faithful and eager servant.
Cassian looked back at the floor of stars, but he had lost her.
Feyre was relieved when it turned out she didn’t have to be a distraction as well. Pascale seemed to be doing a fine job of it herself. Feyre sucked in her breath as she watched Keir approach her.
She wanted to shout to Pascale who he was, but she couldn’t. And Pascale couldn’t turn him down. Feyre turned her head to the side slightly and she saw Rhys up on his throne.
Stone still and just as cold. No emotions on his face. He had been watching Pascale the whole time. As if she were his newest play thing and he had grown tired of Feyre. And just left her here to rot, because he didn’t care enough.
Rhys licked his lips slowly and he leaned back in his throne, smirking. But Feyre could tell he also stilled when Keir joined her on the dance floor. Feyre saw the snarl that early left his lips as Keir walked off the floor a few minutes later, a black lip print on his neck.
Feyre’s head snapped to Cassian, who was just barely holding himself back. Feyre sighed and she settled her face back into nothing, ignoring everything.
Pascale almost missed the star. She tried not to cringe too hard as a male ran his hands in and out of her dress. She dance with him still, snaking her body around his, with every intimate part.
She was sure she had drawn all the attention of every male, and a considerable amount of females, on the dance floor. Pascale tossed her head back, her hair flowing down her back. She spun around and looked down.
And there it was. The Star.
Pascale had a male at her front and a female at her back, her shoe covering the star. She heaved small sighs, snaking and rolling her body, keeping both Faes satisfied. She tossed her arms back and wrapped them around the female behind her.
Pascale twirled around and she snaked her arms around feminine hips. She smiled sweetly and tilted her neck to the side. She spun around and ran her fingers through her hair slowly.
The Star still rested under her shoe. Pascale smiled and she tilted her head back. The female opened her mouth and Pascale gestured her forward. She closed her eyes as the female bit her finger gently. She drew blood. Perfect.
Pascale moved her shoe. She squeezed her finger gently, as the female still danced behind her. She watched a small drop of blood fall, and land in the middle of the six pointed star.
For a moment, she feared it wasn’t enough. Pascale stared down at the star, as feminine lips trailed small kisses down her spine, leaving a line of bright red lip marks.
Then the floor rumbled. Pascale stumbled back as well as her dance partner. She struggled to stay up right as the Star slowly began to suck the entire floor of stars inward.
Faes shrieked and they ran off the floor. Pascale scrambled off the floor herself and she rushed through the crowds of Fae. She tried to stay as close to the Star as possible.
Pascale pressed her back against the rocky wall. She watched as the floor was sucked into the ground; five feet, ten feet, fifteen feet, twenty feet. Pascale walked towards the platform far below.
She stopped three steps in, when something raised from below. Screams filled the room, and Pascale realized her own were amongst them. The demon, beautiful but just as deadly as staring at the sun too long, pulled itself up.
Pascale covered her mouth. It was Him. The one who gave her the scar on the back of her neck. He seemed to sense her, as if she was his, and his head snapped. Their eyes met. “There you are”
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not sure if this new venue is supposed to be shadow, light, plague, or some horrible amalgamation of the three
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A pity you can't manually select which region of your flight's territory you call home. Especially considering that half of the fun places aren't where you're going to live at max lair capacity.
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I think the fae should have more earrings. That was a missed opportunity. They're so big the only thing they're good for are getting caught on small doorframes and fitting a fuck ton of piercings.
I mean I know Sarah Janet was probably envisioning human sized ears with pointy tips but that's even lamer.
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High Fae of the Hewn City. Plotting the overthrow and potential demise of the current Steward of Nightmares. The usual.
Okay okay okay I needed some extra characters because there are only two named Hewn City residents in the entire series, I think. I tried to make them tied to actual canon things, but we know so little about Hewn City. Filian's a Darkbringer and a cousin of Mor's, several times removed. Yianna is Lord Thanatos's daughter, but not the one mentioned in the books. That would be Lydia, her younger sister. Emyr is the most detached but he's from one of the minor families in the court, and he's angling to become the next Steward.
[image ID: three images of three people standing side by side. They all have pointed ears and are staring out at the viewer. The person on the left, Filian, stands with his arms crossed. He is a tall guy with light skin and light brown hair tied in a small ponytail. He is wearing a maroon jacket with a brighter red cape thrown over one shoulder. He also has an earring with a red gem. The person in the middle, Emyr, is shorter than the others and stands with his arms behind his back. He has dark brown skin and short curly hair, and light brown eyes. He is wearing a dark blue vest embroidered with white thread in the pattern of lines and stars. The person on the right is Yianna, who has light brown skin, dark eyes, and dark brown hair that falls at her shoulder. She stands sideways, head turned to face the front. She is wearing a long sleeved black dress with some gold touches. She also has a variety of gold earrings.
In the first image they are hidden in dark blue shadow, so that their silhouettes are vaguely visible. Their eyes and the embroidery on Emyr's vest are the only things that are bright in the picture.
The second and third image are identical except the third image has each person's names written above their heads. The people are under normal lighting and standing before a light blue background. /end ID]
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mor vs nesta
some of y’all be hating on mor for saying mean things to nesta but don’t hate on nesta when she has said equally bad things to many?
im sorry but since y’all make it an effort to preach about trying to understand nesta and thats shes a “complex character with so much trauma” i advise y’all to take a step back and offer the same thing to mor.
i get that mor telling nesta that she would have voted to send her off to the human lands or that she would thrive in hewn city was fucked up.
but do y’all just make it an effort to not try to see other characters trauma beyond just nesta’s? bc its so easy to see that to mor sees a lot of hewn city behavior in nesta. nesta had made it her mission to be cruel, to push ppl away and never let them see her true person, so please try to understand WHY mor would take what nesta gave and see her as someone who would thrive in court of nightmares.
if you were like Mor who grew up in an environment where everything was a competition, where family didn't mean shit, where people treated others as inferiors (even your blood family) where everyone made it their mission to be cruel and cold and would kill you in an instant regardless of who you were, then guess what? you might see Nesta, see her behavior towards her family and others, and think “she would thrive in the court of nightmares” too.
i get that nesta was in a really bad place when mor said those things to her, but why should we expect others to keep their words in check around nesta when nesta has never offered the same courtesy to others. just bc mor laughs and smiles, doesn't mean she's healed, it doesn't mean she's still not hurting the way nesta hurts.
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acotar rewrite 1 concept: am/ren is a legitimately terrifying monster who rhy/sand feeds his political dissidents to in exchange for them not eating anyone he actually gives a fuck about.
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orpheus, son of amarantha and rhysand, was conceived by amarantha solely because she hadn’t had anyone significant from the night court that could be rhysand’s heir if he died. if rhysand died and someone in the night court ascended the throne, she would lose the power she had over the court — and they would go into rebellion. amarantha wouldn’t be able to ensure she could win. especially if other courts also joined them.
orpheus was born roughly nineteen years before amarantha lost the mountain. rhys and orpheus weren’t particularly close, amarantha always denying it. amarantha had thought of him as more of a bargaining chip or possession rather than a child. as expected, he grew up to be cold and, more than slightly, cruel. rhysand would attempt to temper those things, showing moments of fondness and attempting to sway him in the right direction but he had a role to play. rhysand continued playing those games, driven by the chance of orpheus being free from amarantha.
orpheus has a very warped idea of what love is. his mother loved him. yet, amarantha would punish him severely for any minor infraction. his father loved him but never spared him from her (orpheus hadn’t known that he couldn’t)
orpheus doesn’t have the wings, only being a quarter illyrian. later on, he suspects that rhys ensured he wouldn’t, something rhys neither confirms nor denies. after the mountain, rhys and orpheus have a strained relationship. orpheus, even if he shouldn’t, loved his mother. he blames rhysand for letting tamlin kill her. eventually, orpheus takes up residence in hewn city
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Even abominations need a vacation away from it all. Only one head seems to be enjoying it though.
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