Nesta did not go out at all that day or that night. She just sat in her room. Thinking about that morning.
Not the bathtub. That was locked away with a million other moments of her life.
No, she was thinking about the drawing Cassian had given her.
He had not given her the drawing from Solstice.
He had given her a drawing of the two of them.
In the drawing, the two of them sat on the couch in the townhouse. She had her legs flung over his lap, lying back against the armrest, reading a book. Behind the book, she had a small smile on her lips, and she was looking over at Cassian. She remembered using that book to hide that smile from him, but clearly he had seen it.
He had one arm flung over the back of the couch, one over her legs. His wings were flopped behind the couch, spreading to take in the sun streaming from the window behind the couch. His face was pure light, laughing at something she had said.
She didn't remember the conversation well, just that it had been one of his more tolerable moments. He had wanted to borrow a book, and refused to leave. She remember how the couch shifted under his weight as he sat. She remembered throwing her legs over his lap, saying he could only stay because she 'needed a footrest, and I suppose that's just the kind of thing you were made for.'
And though she tried not to, she still remember the sound of that barking laugh. That moment was captured in this drawing. At the bottom corner, scrawled in Cassian's rough handwriting, was what she supposed to be the title of the piece.
When I Knew
She stared and stared at the picture. Memorizing every curve, every indent in the parchment. In the afternoon, she walked to her window to hold it up to the sun, watching it stream through the window in the drawing, recreating the moment completely. It was breathtaking.
She didn't know if she wanted to burn it or sew a piece of it into every one of her dresses so she could have it with her always.
She ate all three meals that day, and went to bed - for the first night in a long time - sober and alone.
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After leaving Nesta's, Cassian flew straight for the House of Wind. He had so many drawings in his mind he could barely keep himself from falling face first when he landed and ran to his room.
Nesta staring at his drawings in awe.
How she had looked in that purple dress.
The light from the dawn shining through her robe.
Standing with her back to him on the balcony, head tilted up, breathing in the morning air.
Leaning against the bedroom door frame as he left her apartment, the faintest smile on her lips.
He had no idea how long he had been sitting at that desk. Cassian was so engulfed in the work, he hardly even registered Azriel sitting on his bed until his brother said,
"Doesn't that make your wrist hurt?"
Cassian didn't look over his shoulder as he responded, "I just have to get it out of my head on paper before I forget." He finished the last line on his last drawing. Later, he would go over it again and perfect it, then trace it with ink.
He turned to his brother. "She said yes. So you'll have to winnow her in."
Az furrowed his brows as he said, "I thought the plan was Rhys was winnowing her and I was winnowing you?"
Cassian chuckled. "She slapped Rhys across the face the other day. I don't think that is still a good plan." He stood and stretched his arms up and his wings out. Az huffed a laugh and walked out of the bedroom. Cassian followed him out. As they walked through the halls, they discussed the logistics of the trip.
Az and Rhys would winnow them to the camps and stay for the first week to oversee Nesta's settling in and to help alleviate any tension at her presence. They also wanted to see for themselves just how bad the unrest at the Illyrian camps had gotten. From there, Cassian would stay at the main camp, checking in the the surrounding camps week by week. Depending on the information they gathered, Rhys and Az would plan accordingly back in Velaris.
The plan was to have Nesta train and work with the Illyrian women. How well that would actually work was yet to be seen.
While discussing just that, Mor walked through the door. "Oof," she snickered, "Were you two lovers having a moment?"
"Ha, ha. Do you ever tire of being so funny?" Az teased.
The tension between the three of them had eased. They could talk, joke, laugh, drink together without feeling guilty about it later. It felt so good to be back to normal with these two.
"No, actually, I don't." Mor chipred. She wore a two piece green dress with flowers on the shoulders and hips. She noticed Cassian looking and commented, "Elain picked it out. I think I like green." She motioned with her hands for the two males to follow her through the door to the edge of the stairs. She looked over Velaris, and both of them knew the look of pride and place on her face as she watched her city light up in the sunlight.
"She is healing. Thanks to her garden, I think. She smiled when I walked out in it, so no way in hell was I going to take it off." Mor said, then turned to punch Az on the arm.
He faked a hurt face, to which Mor rolled her eyes and said, "I also think it's in part because of you."
Az looked at his feet, but the smile on his face was unmistakable.
Mor smiled herself and looked to Cassian, who was just enjoying being in their company. "What about your Archeron sister? Any progress?"
Cassian blinked. No one had ever referenced Nesta as his before. He doubted she would have liked to hear that.
"She agreed to come. Barely, but she agreed." He said, looking away from Mor toward the slums of the city where she lived.
Mor sighed. "Good. Az, if you could fly me to his estate I can brief Rhys."
Az turned to her, confused. "Why would I fly you all the way over there if I can just go there and brief him myself?"
Mor laughed and started to descend the thousands of stairs as if she was going to step all the way down. She called over her shoulder, "Because Elain asked if you could come help her with her garden." She continued walking.
Az's eyes lit up, a smile spreading cross his face.
"Better get going, shadowswinger." Cassian said and he nudged his brother down the stairs. He watched from the top as Az ran down the stairs and scooped Mor into his arms, launching off his back foot into the air. Cassian kept watching them for a moment, saw Mor bark a laugh at something Az had said. He smiled to himself, turning back into the House of Wind to finish his drawing.
He worked the rest of the day and deep into the night, hoping the smell of rose and rum would linger on his skin just a bit longer.
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Nesta woke up late.
She usually woke up when the sun streamed through her window and rudely woke her up. This morning, though, the sun was well up and the sounds of the city were in full swing when she pulled her face off the pillow.
She had fallen asleep in her bed, face down, still clutching the drawing in her hand. Remembering, she sat up searched the bed for the drawing. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to burn it or not.
It wasn't on the bed or wrapped in any of the covers. She sighed and slipped her feet out of the blankets. The wood floor was cold under her toes, and she took a moment to breathe deeply before she stood.
Getting on her hands and knees, she looked under her bed. She saw it on the other side of the bed, directly across from her.
Bracing her hands on the side of the bed, she stood once again stood and walked to the other side of her bed. She bent down, picking up the picture.
Nesta held the picture out in front of her, looking at it. Memories, thoughts, feeling pounded like waves against her mind at the image of her and Cassian on the couch. Looking happy. Looking peaceful. The frozen moment in time when Cassian knew. Or so he named the drawing.
She looked at the bottom left corner. His own handwriting.
When I Knew
She didn't have to think about what he meant by that.
What she didn't think about was how she felt about that. About everything between them.
She couldn't let herself do that.
She couldn't do that to Cassian.
Without even thinking, she tore the picture up into four equal pieces, and then those into four small pieces.
Setting those on her bed, she took out her only tote and her small sewing kit.
She took out all of her undergarments from her armoire and stuffed them into the tote first. Then she took out all of her dresses and laid them on the floor.
She only had five of them. A simple dark green, much like the purple one she had fallen asleep in. A deep blue with beading around the plunging neckline with a fuller skirt. Her only 'formal' dress. A dark pink wrap dress, one of her more scandalous dresses.
And then the dress Elain had bought her.
It was simple enough. A white flowing A line gown, with flower detail around the neckline, waist, and hem. It was long sleeved, but the fabric was light enough that no matter how hot it was she knew she would not sweat. It was a beautiful in its simplicity. Pure and light and easy and honest and everything Nesta was not.
She was only going to bring it to take a piece of Elain with her. To take the quiet gentle strength with her.
With all five of her dresses laid before her, Nesta dropped to her knees. She grabbed a needle and thread and scissors, and set to work on the green dress first.
She cut a small square from the underlining of the dress and then unlaced the corset style back, opening the inside of the bodice to her. She sewed in the small square, whip stitching for extra strength. Just before she sewed the small make-shift pocket completely closed, she stood to grab one of the small pieces of paper on her bed.
Nesta looked at it. Only about an inch and a half in diameter, this section of the drawing was Cassians face. Head tilted back, roaring in laughter.
With her long delicate fingers, she folded the paper so it fit in the pocket she created, and sewed it shut.
Working for the rest of the day, Nesta repeated the process with all 5 of her dresses and then packed them into her tote.
She then repeated the process for the five shirts and five pairs of pants she packed.
At some point during this process, she began to cry.
Nesta wasn't sewing Cassian's drawing into all of her clothes as some sentimental way to keep him with her. It wasn't to prove she had a heart or to fool anyone into thinking he and she were anything more then cohorts.
No, Nesta was sewing Cassian's drawing into all of her clothes to remind her she could never have all of him. She could only have bits and pieces at a time, never the whole. Because she had torn him apart, chewed him up, and spit him out. She didn't even know if he was whole anymore, much like herself. Scraps of paper and broken parts.
That's all they were.
And it was her fault.
Nesta sewed Cassian's drawings into all of her clothes to remind her of that.
She finished in the middle of the afternoon. Her tote seemed to weigh a million pounds, but she somehow found it in her to lift it off the bed and set it on the floor. She wiped the sweat off her brow, the tears from her face, and sighing, knew what she needed to do with the rest of her afternoon.
Though the summer was ending, it was nice enough still she did not need a cloak as she left her apartment and started down the street.
________________________________________________________________________________
Feyre was tired.
She knew Rhys was as well, what with having to prepare to face the Illyrian army and her sister.
Gods, her sister.
Nesta had agreed. She hated what her sister had become, what her life was. This would be a good thing for her. Feyre would still miss her though.
Feyre sat in a wooden swing bench on her bedroom balcony. Rhys was resting in the bed behind her. Though it was only the afternoon, her mate was exhausted. They had been attempting to conceive almost every night, and though she enjoyed it, she was equally as exhausted.
Still, Feyre had not become pregnant. It took time, and with her Fae body she didn't know how her cycles effected her fertility. They had talked to a medwitch about it, and all he could say was, keep trying!
So they did.
Feyre sighed, taking in the afternoon light as it hit her face. It was warm, welcoming. Their bedroom balcony faced the city, so Feyre looked out on her home and smiled.
They would have a baby. Feyre would get pregnant. Of that, she was sure.
A sound at the gate stirred her attention. Feyre stood and grabbed the rail, looking over to the entrance to the estate.
Nesta stood there, opening the gate.
Feyre watched from the balcony as Nesta walked toward the mansions double doors.
She turned on her heel, and hissed at her mate sleeping in bed, "Do not wake up anytime soon,".
He snored lightly in response.
She opened the door and dashed down the hallway, hearing the knocker on the door bang bang bang.
Feyre reached the large double doors, took a deep breath, and opened them to see her eldest sister standing there.
5/22/2020