09-16-2018, 11:23 PM
☽ ☽ ☽
Something stirred within her, deep and melancholic and halfway successful in dampening her own violet eyes as she gazed at Hazel. The tears that slipped soundlessly down her cheeks were enough to shatter the little witch's heart in two, breath catching in her throat as she staggered forward, overwhelmed with the desire to alleviate her pain. She was much younger than the other girl and yet, found nothing but a considerable desire to protect her from harm like a mother might her child. The feelings were misplaced and unfamiliar, but she did nothing to shoo them away, instead considering the implications of her sadness.
This had to be about the death that had struck the Ascendants just hours before her tumultuous arrival. She had tried to understand their pain, but she hadn't known Margaery or Shay- they were faceless names whispered on the breeze to her - and thus, her efforts to sympathize with her new family always felt short. She knew that they were somehow related, the law that bound her to her mother and father doing the same to Margaery. Adoption was weird though, and Feyre didn't know if she had been released by that familial binding when her parents passed. The witches had never dared to talk about her status lest she be reclaimed by the foster home that she had been pulled out of and Feyre knew better to probe. Her situation had been nice enough and she had always been cared for, it made no sense to pull at things that would merely unravel her life.
She had halted just before Hazel, momentarily seized by her own bout of sadness as she reflected on her rather tattered family. Hazel could relate, she supposed- obviously she had been close to the recently deceased. [color=#ac5847]"Don't cry, aurea puella." The nickname rolled seamlessly off of her tongue, an innate reaction to the despair currently exhibited by Hazel. She hardly knew her and yet, Feyre felt as if they were close. Closer than words, actually. If only that damned voice would return and extend to her that signature brand of guidance that it had become renowned for- she could use a bit of motherly help right about now.
A strange force stopped her from reaching out and brushing away fresh tears, expression merely contorting as she pondered her inquiry. Young witch. Father's niece. The words were jumbling in her mind suddenly, eyes squeezing shut as she fought to banish the surge of memories, of finding her mother and father dead, of the witches taking her in with heads bowed and hands clasped together in silent prayer to deities long forgotten by everyone else. [color=#ac5847]"Uh, yeah. I mean, he adopted me but... We're still related. His name was Elijah." She stated that fact so casually amidst the growing chaos in her mind, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug as her eyes reclaimed that almost mischievous light. She needed to make Hazel feel better, and if that meant sacrificing her own feelings for a moment, then so be it. Besides, she always said that there was no need for her to mourn the dead, she couldn't start behaving like a hypocrite now.
[color=#ac5847]"Feyre. Josephine. Josie. The witches usually went with Josephine, but I don't really care what you call me. Any name is a good name," She continued easily, heaving a sigh of relief as a smile crept upon Hazel's features. The ukulele seemed like a cool instrument and there was no denying Hazel's talent- Fey still couldn't help but feel guilty for disturbing her though. She opened her mouth to comment only to step back, amazed, as Haze offered to help her with her hair. The witches had always instructed her to wear it in long braids that cascaded over her shoulders, little ringlets of gold woven in here and there to compliment her complexion. Since living here, she had taken the opportunity to let her hair loose without the witches' watchful gaze and stern order. They couldn't tell her what she could and couldn't do so long as she was here, and finally, finally, it could be free.
[color=#ac5847]"I'd like that..." Confessed Feyre, grinning widely now. Her troubles were almost completely forgotten, embers igniting and dancing brazenly in the air as Hazel released a stray curl from the confinements of her hat and bandana. [color=#ac5847]"Let's go! I'm excited!"
This had to be about the death that had struck the Ascendants just hours before her tumultuous arrival. She had tried to understand their pain, but she hadn't known Margaery or Shay- they were faceless names whispered on the breeze to her - and thus, her efforts to sympathize with her new family always felt short. She knew that they were somehow related, the law that bound her to her mother and father doing the same to Margaery. Adoption was weird though, and Feyre didn't know if she had been released by that familial binding when her parents passed. The witches had never dared to talk about her status lest she be reclaimed by the foster home that she had been pulled out of and Feyre knew better to probe. Her situation had been nice enough and she had always been cared for, it made no sense to pull at things that would merely unravel her life.
She had halted just before Hazel, momentarily seized by her own bout of sadness as she reflected on her rather tattered family. Hazel could relate, she supposed- obviously she had been close to the recently deceased. [color=#ac5847]"Don't cry, aurea puella." The nickname rolled seamlessly off of her tongue, an innate reaction to the despair currently exhibited by Hazel. She hardly knew her and yet, Feyre felt as if they were close. Closer than words, actually. If only that damned voice would return and extend to her that signature brand of guidance that it had become renowned for- she could use a bit of motherly help right about now.
A strange force stopped her from reaching out and brushing away fresh tears, expression merely contorting as she pondered her inquiry. Young witch. Father's niece. The words were jumbling in her mind suddenly, eyes squeezing shut as she fought to banish the surge of memories, of finding her mother and father dead, of the witches taking her in with heads bowed and hands clasped together in silent prayer to deities long forgotten by everyone else. [color=#ac5847]"Uh, yeah. I mean, he adopted me but... We're still related. His name was Elijah." She stated that fact so casually amidst the growing chaos in her mind, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug as her eyes reclaimed that almost mischievous light. She needed to make Hazel feel better, and if that meant sacrificing her own feelings for a moment, then so be it. Besides, she always said that there was no need for her to mourn the dead, she couldn't start behaving like a hypocrite now.
[color=#ac5847]"Feyre. Josephine. Josie. The witches usually went with Josephine, but I don't really care what you call me. Any name is a good name," She continued easily, heaving a sigh of relief as a smile crept upon Hazel's features. The ukulele seemed like a cool instrument and there was no denying Hazel's talent- Fey still couldn't help but feel guilty for disturbing her though. She opened her mouth to comment only to step back, amazed, as Haze offered to help her with her hair. The witches had always instructed her to wear it in long braids that cascaded over her shoulders, little ringlets of gold woven in here and there to compliment her complexion. Since living here, she had taken the opportunity to let her hair loose without the witches' watchful gaze and stern order. They couldn't tell her what she could and couldn't do so long as she was here, and finally, finally, it could be free.
[color=#ac5847]"I'd like that..." Confessed Feyre, grinning widely now. Her troubles were almost completely forgotten, embers igniting and dancing brazenly in the air as Hazel released a stray curl from the confinements of her hat and bandana. [color=#ac5847]"Let's go! I'm excited!"
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YOU COULD [B]RATTLE THE STARS[/b]
[div style="font-family: HELVETICA;font-size: 17px; color:#000000; LETTER-SPACING: 0PX; line-height: 99%;"]YOU COULD DO [i]ANYTHING, IF ONLY YOU [color=black]DARED