vii. to be in somebody's presence
"i am mine. before i am ever anyone else's."
i.n.
❀❀❀
BRIAR STARED AT ELAIN. Elain stared at Briar. They stood, stock still, staring.
Elain's eyes were so wide that white surrounded her brown irises, long eyelashes fanning her brows. Up close, she seemed a lot prettier. Prettier than her far-away beauty. A light dusting of freckles smattered her pale cheeks, covered in a few places by smudges of soil. Her lips were pink and parted in surprise, her dirtied apron discarded.
And Briar was awkwardly standing, one hand on the gold doorknob and the other just hanging. Her own lips were pursed, her cheeks reddening. She opened her mouth to say something.
What was she supposed to say to this female? Take me to your garden but please let's not run into anyone or I will combust. So she didn't say anything, just continued standing. Staring.
Elain let out a burst of oddly high-pitched words. "So - I - do you wanna... we can - what - what do you want to do?"
Briar bit her cheek and shrugged, "I - It doesn't really matter."
Elain nodded, her arms wrapping around her middle as she rocked back and forth a little. She had not expected a yes, Briar supposed, and she understood. If she were Elain, she would have expected the same. Probably wouldn't have even reached out.
Beneath them, muffled voices talked and laughed.
"How about we just go outside? To the garden?" Elain suggested. Probably, Briar guessed, because there were people downstairs ( maybe in the kitchen ). They probably did not want to see her face. See her ever.
Abruptly, Elain whirled around and began to walk left down the hall. Briar stayed frozen for a second before she took a step, quietly shutting the door behind her and following after the flower girl.
Elain led her through winding halls, their footsteps light against the dark wood floors. She had to admit that it was a cozy home; they passed open sitting rooms decorated with plush couches and cushions, dark offices with walls of books and empty coffee mugs. She admired the walls of the home the most, because paintings hung from every surface. Beautiful paintings.
There were detailed portraits of various Fae - the High Lord brightly smiled in one as he looked up from a stack of paperwork, looking so different from the dangerous male she had encountered. In another he lounged at a round table with the Shadowsinger and the other winged male. All three of them sported a hand of cards and a glass of whiskey. Coloured poker chips sat in a heaping pile in the middle of the table.
From what she could remember about poker, the large winged male ( the one with the red gems and the cheeky smile ) was losing. Badly.
There were painted landscapes, too. A beautiful river glistening with sunlight, a rundown cabin in the midst of a snowstorm.
In another, two blurred armies fought. Weapons shone in the sunlight. Blood did, too, and their battlefield was soaked a dark red. Her steps faltered as she caught sight of the depiction, as she spotted a winged male who glowed with sapphire light as he swung his sword. Below him, what looked like a golden horned beast roared.
The paintings were beautiful. Terrifying. Skillfully painted.
Briar wondered if their creator was the same artist of her bathroom's roof mural.
Elain held a glass door open for her, smiling as Briar crossed the threshold and stepped into warm sunlight and cool breeze.
"Alright," Elain began. Her voice still wavered with nerves. "I just finished with the tulip bulbs and I was about to start on something new. But I'm not quite sure what will look nice next to them."
Briar nodded along as they walked down a cobblestone path toward Elain's planting site. Her spade and sacks of seeds were still littered across the path and patch of soil.
"What seeds have you got?" she asked.
"Well, right now I've got tulips, snowdrops, lilies, orchids, and grape hyacinths out. But there's more in the shed out back, I think," Elain pondered, "And we can always visit the shops if we need." It had apparently officially become a partner project.
Briar considered her words, the area of the garden. The climate of the Night Court, the plants that were native to the area. "The snowdrops and hyacinths would look pretty. And you could plant lilac bushes behind them. Even sage, those are good for winter."
"Lilac and sage," Elain muttered, "Okay."
"You could plant more grasses, too. To fill up the space."
Elain hummed, a finger at her chin and a hand on her waist. "Lilacs smell nice, right?"
"Yes. Very sweet."
"Those would be nice around the furniture then, maybe." Briar agreed. They would be.
And so they decided to begin with the hyacinths because Elain did not have lilac or snowdrop seeds and would have to buy them somewhere. Briar instructed her to plant the pointy end of the bulb up, digging holes about as deep as her hand. She practically basked in the sunlight and feeling of the dirt - as if she knew it. As if the already planted bulbs were calling to her, calling her name.
She supposed she could do more to help. Lilacs wouldn't be hard to grow from scratch - but Elain had refused when she offered, repeating Briar's words from earlier. "No, thank you. I want it to be like nature." So Briar relented and knelt in the dirt with the female, her white shirt already dirtied and hands filthy.
It was... nice, she supposed. It was nice being out of her room. Talking, even though she hadn't really said much. It was nice being in somebody's presence. Having them speak to her, merely exist next to her even though she could practically see the anxiety and wariness radiating from Elain's body.
Elain was scared of her, but it was still nice.
It was nice not being alone after her several days in solution. It was nice not being alone when she could not remember the last time she had been in somebody's company. Had been talked to. Had been listened to.
"So..." Elain began, "Is this the first time you've been to the Night Court?"
Briar nearly laughed at the question - as if this was a little vacation, a fun excursion. As if she had not come here with murder on her mind. But she could admire the female's kindness, her attempt to make normal conversation. "Yes."
"Me too," Elain replied, "It's very pretty - it kind of reminds me of home a little."
Yes, it was very pretty, but - "Where's home?"
Elain stiffened at the question. "The Mortal Lands."
What? She peered at the female's ears with wonder. But there, beneath her brown hair - pointed ears. Was she some sort of Lesser Fae, like Briar? But there were no noticeable differences, like the wings or horns, claws or gills. She did not have Briar's skin that flashed with scales of wood, or hair that grew flowers subconsciously.
"We were turned by the Cauldron. By the King of Hybern," Elain whispered, "into High Fae."
She supposed she had probably heard this information at some point before because it was not as jolting as it should have been. But she still stared at Elain with wonder, marvelling because she was staring at a human in a Fae's body. At magic - pure magic.
Elain's eyes were shining a little, her lips pursed as she dug another hole. So she was not happy about this. About having a new home in the heart of the Night Court, a new immortal body.
Briar didn't really understand it, but she gave the female - the girl - the most supportive nod she could muster. "I'm sorry." She didn't have to understand to have empathy. To know that having part of your life taken away hurt just as much as being stabbed.
"Thanks," Elain whispered, and Briar tried not to notice her wiping a stray tear off her cheek. "I suppose we're both here for the first time, then."
She couldn't help but smile at Elain's optimism, at her ability to see a vengeful assassin and a girl whose life was stolen as two people on a new adventure. A new branch of life. "I suppose so."
And just because Elain was trying to look at it with such light, just because she had had so much stolen from her and was still smiling, Briar glanced up from her digging and admired the Night Court. She saw its native plants - pines and spruces, dogwoods and coneflowers - and its brilliant sky and didn't hate it with her entire core any longer. Perhaps just most of her core.
Beside her, Elain's tongue was out as she dug, entrapped in concentration. She held an open palm out - Briar slapped a hyacinth bulb into it. Elain moved onto the next hole while Briar pushed dirt over the planted bulb, lightly pressing into the dirt and giving it a pat for good measure ( did she let her power slightly germinate the hyacinth bulbs while she patted? perhaps. but Elain would never know ). It was as if they were a well-oiled machine. As if they knew each other well.
The feeling of being watched washed over, prickling the skin and hair on her arms. Tickling the back of her neck. She held herself back from turning around to glare at whomever it was - because it was most likely the Shadowsinger. It was his job as the Spymaster, she supposed, to keep an eye on dangerous criminals. To be there should she decide to stab Elain in the neck with a spade, or something along those lines.
Which she would not be doing. Most likely.
Elain must have felt the staring, too, because she looked over her shoulder. An instant later, her face lit up with a smile. She wiggled her dirtied fingers in a wave.
He must have waved back or something because her cheeks lit with a rosy blush.
Briar grit her teeth, ignored the eyes on the back of her neck, and held another bulb out to Elain, who was ogling at the Shadowsinger like he was some type of god. Briar nudged her ( maybe a little too harshly ) and Elain startled and muttered a small sorry before she grabbed the bulb and got back to planting.
All the while, Briar dug and planted with quiet irritation. Beside her, Elain stole another look at the winged male.
She slammed her spade into the ground and huffed, spinning around in the dirt to face wherever the male was - he was sitting on an ornate cement bench across the garden, an ankle crossed over his knee and a pile of paperwork in his hands. His eyes, however, were on her.
"If you're going to stare," Briar growled, "and spy without even trying to hide then just come over here. Perhaps you'll distract Elain less."
Beside her, Elain's mouth dropped open and a brilliant flush lit her cheeks. The Spymaster merely stared at Briar, shadows peeking over the tops of his wings. One wound around a taloned point, spinning in circles and circles. Others slithered around his fingers, through the dark waves of his hair.
He quirked an eyebrow. Stood, his papers disappearing as he tucked his hands behind his back - as if they had slipped into the shadowed folds of the world. Elain shot her a wide-eyed look, as if Brair had both betrayed her and was now considered crazy.
The male marched over, plopping himself down in front of them amidst the leaves and the dirt. It came out quiet and low, threat poisoning the words: "Better vantage point from here, anyways."
The Shadowsinger stared her down, his icy gaze meeting her own fiery glare. And though he was the very definition of icy rage and shadowy determination, there was something in his eyes and his slight smirk that told her he would not be letting her go easily. That he would fight her scorching flames with his own cold pain.
He was here to watch her. To incapacitate her should she even look at Elain wrong.
Briar grabbed the spade, ignoring the flickering of his shadows as she grabbed the tool, and stabbed it into the dirt as she glared at him. As if she needed spying. She may have been caught but she was not a fool. She would not break her bargain and risk torture at his hands.
Soft skin brushed her hand has Elain slipped the spade from her grip, her face twisted in a frown. She slapped a bulb into Briar's dirty hand as a replacement, lips pressed thin.
Elain's frown became deeper as she caught a glance of something behind Briar, her shoulders sagging. Briar craned her head behind her, the wind carrying the scent of warm cinnamon and dying embers across the bare soil of the garden.
There was Lucien again, his red hair swaying like fire as he strutted towards them, hands tucked into the pockets of his tawny pants. A tiny smile graced his face as she met his gaze, still glaring and irate from the Shadowsinger.
Briar waited until he was only a few paces away to speak. "What?"
His smile grew larger at her tone. "I thought you might want to join me on a walk."
"A walk," she deadpanned, because she really didn't.
"Through the gardens."
"Yes, these bare spring gardens are certainly wonderful."
"Smartass," he glared, though his lips still tilted up. "I wanted to discuss your memory."
Briar fell silent at his request. There was a part of it - of saying it out loud, of acknowledging it - that was awfully embarrassing. A part that made her hyper-aware of the Shadowsinger's sharp gaze, made her so conscious of Elain's quiet presence beside her. Both watching, both listening, both knowing more about her and her world than even she did herself.
She felt as if she had just been born yesterday. No - not born. She felt like she had been hurled from the heavens and had spiraled down, been whipped in circles by the wind and the rain. As if she had landed in a stranger's body and a stranger's life and a world of things she only vaguely knew. As if she knew nothing but hate. Anger. Betrayal and sadness. She was still spiraling. Still spiraling and out of control and everybody else felt sane and still.
Elain laid a warm palm on her forearm and flashed a supportive smile. Briar did not know her - at least not well - and yet she was kind. Kind to the foreigner in her home. Kind to the female who had tried to assassinate her sister. Who held hate in her heart and yearned for revenge.
As if he already knew what she would do, Lucien held out a tanned hand.
Briar made sure to flick dirt towards the Shadowsinger's leather boots as she rose, ignoring the hand held aloft for her to take. She gestured for Lucien to walk with slight irritation, waving towards the paths through the gardens.
Lucien exchanged a look with the Shadowsinger; it was one of confirmation, as if he was assuring the winged male that he could manage her. Like she was an animal to be handled, to be held a leash's length away.
As Lucien turned, gesturing for her to follow him, Briar gave the Shadowsinger one last glare.
His eyes, dark and icy like frozen earth, glared back.
this is her first interaction with elain!
i know some of you legit hate elain but
please bare with me, i think that we
just don't know enough about her as
a character and she definitely has room
for potential!
QOTD: which of sjm's worlds would you
rather be apart of?
my cool AOTD: idk i think maybe the throne of glass world?
cause acotar is cool but theres a lot of
war and politics and shit. and crescent city seems cool
except the goverment? nah i'd rather not.
hope you are feeling well, i love you all
lea