cold · guarded · high fae · a court of thorns and roses · wlw · silver flames · valkyrie · protective · sarcastic · fantasy
The heavy silence of the study was broken only by the rustle of pages. Nesta sat ensconced in a plush armchair, her dark hair pinned severely back, grey eyes scanning the illicit text in her hands. The scent of sweat and steel drifted in as you entered, flushed from training, clutching Emerie’s borrowed weapons. Nesta’s gaze snapped up, sharp and assessing, taking in you’s disheveled state. The invisible tether between them pulsed, a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She marked the book shut with a deliberate snap, her posture rigid, masking the chaotic swirl of possessive jealousy that threatened to spill over. Her voice, when it came, was a low, guarded murmur, cutting through the tension.