Azriel immediately separates from the woman, and Elena slips on that cool mask of hers, the mask of calm, of not caring. She didn't know why she cared, why she expected better, why she craved better. Why she dared to. But she knows she shouldn't, so she pushes the feeling down, and down, and down. Telling herself to forget it.
"I was hoping to get at least a moments rest after saving your sorry asses, but apparently not. A thank you, would be nice, instead of the sight of you two pawing at each other," she says, her lips tilting into a frown, her clothes stained with blood. Azriel's cheeks flushing, as he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly, the woman sneering slightly at the sight of Elena.
"Oh no, do continue. I'm sure the rest of your little gang will just love that," she says, giving them a sweet smile, her voice brittle. Not allowing either of them to speak before she was gone, walking towards the forest a little ways away, trying to keep her shoulders from caving in from the heavy exhaustion that threatened to drown her, to pull her under. She'd used too much, too fast. Her father had warned her about this, as had her mother, about getting too close to a burnout.
But the thing is, she hadn't even felt the bottom. She'd decimated an entire army, and with an hour or so's rest, she could do it again. A bit slower, to not actually burn up from the inside, as her mother had once come so close to doing so, that night in Mistward. And she didn't have a Rowan Whitethorn to carry her from bathtub to bathtub, to freeze the water she sat in. So she had to be careful. She had to be better.
She walked for a short while, her Fae ears picking up the gentle noise of a nearby stream. Directing her stride towards it, where she sat down and began taking off her armor, then her boots. Continuing on until she was in a plain white cotton shirt, deciding to leave it on lest someone comes looking for her. Kneeling down beside the stream and drinking as much as her body would allow her. Straightening when she senses someone walking up behind her, her back to them. Azriel.
"Are you two done?" She asks, still not turning around, aware of his eyes on her, on the way her shirt's sticking to her skin. The faint outline of long scars running horizontally across her back visible from the sweat sticking the shirt to her body, but she turns to face him before he can get a better look.
She begins to out her armor back on, feeling too exposed with him there, too vulnerable with those eyes of his focused on her. Putting all her armor back on, standing before looking him up and down. Walking past him, an uninterested look on her face. But Azriel's face was a sheet of confusion, thoughtfulness.
But she doesn't give him a chance to speak, she just walks past him, blowing him a kiss. Back up to that damned house, where the rest of the Inner Circle would no doubt be waiting. She was so, so tired. But she carries on walking, doing her best to ignore the male at her side, and to keep up with his long strides. She just had to inherit her mothers height.
A few minutes later they were at the door, and she doesn't wait for him to say anything before pushing it open and stepping inside, suddenly very aware of the thick black blood coating her, and the mess of her hair. But she doesn't touch it, doesn't fiddle. Just stays completely still as all conversation within the house comes to a halt as the door hits the wall. Raising an eyebrow at the men and women standing in the middle of the room.
"That's it? I was expecting a bit more, maybe a round of applause..." She says, shaking her head sadly..
"What are you?" Morrigan asked her, the woman's face hard, her cheek streaked with blood.
"I am Wind, and Rain. And Bone, and Dust, and Fire. I am whatever you want to call me, Dear Morrigan, but above all that, I am tired. And I smell like shit. And so do all of you, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to either find a room down in that city of yours," She turns to look at Rhysand, "unless there's a vacancy in here that will save me the walk."
Rhysand watches her for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly, taking in her appearance.
If he dares wrinkle his nose at me.
But he doesn't, instead nodding his head at Azriel, "Show her to the guest room," he says, and Elena stops herself from grinding her teeth together. Did they not realize she was right there?
"I may be a few thousand years younger than you, but that doesn't mean you need to treat me like a child," she says, glancing at Azriel who glanced at her with a hard look in his eyes, a look of warning, as if no one had spoken to the other male like that before. At least not after knowing him for an hour.
"Oh I know perfectly well that you are not a child-" Rhysand grumbles, running a hand through his dark hair, glancing at Feyre for a second, a silent conversation taking place.
Before she was able to dwell on that for longer, Azriel's hand was on her back, but moved when he felt the heat radiating off the metal. Keeping his hand at his side, he lead her down the hall. "You will not speak to him like that," he hisses in her ear as they walked, his breath hot on her skin, and an involuntary shiver went down her spine.
"You need to loosen up a bit," she says, turning to pat his cheek gently, her lips tilted up at the sides as she drops her hand, continuing to walk. Glancing sideways at him, catching him watching her. Making it to the end of the hall before she turns and asks, "What, have I got something on my face?" although it was obvious she had, the blood on her face dry and crusty by now.
He stopped at a door, turning to face her, his lips tilted upwards into a small smile. It was small, but it was there. And she momentarily felt breathless, wanting to see that smile over and over again. And then she was looking at him. Like really looking at him. The elegant panes of his face, the way his hazel eyes seemed to glitter in this light. She must be going crazy. But she finds herself smiling back at him, a small smile spreading over her lips. "Just a little bit," he says, his hand moving up as if he'd wipe it away, before he quickly lowers it again, as if he realized what he was doing.
He clears his throat, looking away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. As were hers, as much as she despised that they were. "The room's right in there," he says, reaching out and opening the door quickly, "I don't- I don't have my bags-" she says, even as she walks inside, keeping her face turned from his. Hearing him say, "You take a bath, you stink, and I'll go get them," and she chuckles gently. "You smell just as bad as me, but thank you. Just let yourself in," she says, beginning to remove her armor, then everything underneath, before walking off into the bathroom, a bath somehow already running, now almost full.
She dumps some liquid into the bath so the air was laced with smells that spoke of calm nights beside the fire, embers crackling gently. It reminded her of home.
Home.
Her heart ached at the thought. She wondered what her family would think of Rhysand's little court. Manon and Amren would get along, no doubt about it, although it would be hell for everyone else included. Morrigan and Lysandra. Elide and Feyre. Evangeline and Elain. Aedion and Cassian.
She wondered what her parents would think about Azriel. Before realizing she was thinking about Azriel, and just shakes her head slightly, as if to banish him from her mind. Hearing athe creak of the door opening, her back to him, steam blocking his view of her body.
"Nothing you probably haven't seen before," she says from the bathroom, making the bath all bubbly as she puts one leg in, then the next. Laying down, and she can see him through through the open door. She can see how he's looking at her, despite the steam rolling off the water, creating a thin wall between them. How his eyes clouded over, how they darkened slightly as he watched her. "You can put those on the bed," she says, hating how her voice sounded all breathy, foreign to her ears.
All he does is nod, placing her bags on the bed and turning to leave, and she can see the stiffness of his walk from where she was soaking, and she finds herself chuckling gently at how he all but ran from the room.
Getting out when she's washed everything off her, using about half a bar of soap, and a bottle of shampoo. But before she could do anything else, she stumbled to the toilet and emptied up the contents of her stomach, which was not much.
Getting dressed into her pyjamas after a few minutes, which were rather scarce, and flopping into bed. Her body pressing for her to go and eat something, but she was exhausted. Pulling a sheet over her before she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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word count : 1652
yall this was a long one, sorry it took me so long to get it out i've been rather busy, but i'll try n make time for this, because i really enjoy it. and this is set after KOA, so dont ask about the scars, all will be revealed. love you all <3