𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 ━━━ ✧ ⋆ （ acotar ）

✧ ˚ 𝐱𝐢𝐯. 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐧

✧ ˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 village hadn't changed much in the time that they had been gone. Yet, seeing it now, with all that their lives had been changed, the years they'd spent in these very clutter-stricken streets felt like a complete lifetime ago.

𝙁𝙀𝙔𝙍𝙀 did her best to ignore the gaping and the unsubtle whispers of the better-off villagers that once sneered at her, but she couldn't help the smug satisfaction that filled her for the starving young girl that had grown up wandering these streets, begging for any little bit of help she could get to keep her family alive and healthy that was constantly ignored. Some even stepped into her path and asked about her aunt and her newfound fortune, only to glare and scurry off when she firmly but politely refused conversation. By the time she had reached the poorer districts that they had once been neighbor to, she had been completely drained of her social battery.

Its residents didn't ask questions when she knocked on their old wooden doors carrying little bags of silver and gold, and she was very thankful for that. Feyre had never been the best at empathy, or talking to people outside of her family. Even when it came to Asteria, there was always that nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her she wasn't doing nearly enough to keep her out of harms way, whether that be emotionally or physically, and she envied how Nesta seemed to know exactly what to say to Asteria to ease her fears.

It was Asteria that really excelled at engaging people in conversations, even if she didn't realize it. There had always been this certain quality about herㅡthis innocence and ability to see the light in everythingㅡthat enabled her to bend the wills of even the most stubborn of characters, and made their priorities shift to keep her inner brightness afloat. Asteria would have made this process much easier, but Feyre had resolved to keeping her plan from her. She deserved to rest after all the trauma she had endured in Prythian.

She began her journey back to her father's manor after the last of the coin bags had been distributed, just for her steps to falter near the entrance of the main square. Tomas Mandray and his cronies lurked by the village fountain, chatting about some house that had burned down with the family still trapped inside in the middle of the night and whether or not there would be anything left untouched that they could loot from the wreckage. Feyre's skin crawled when his eyes roamed freely over her body in a too-long look, his lips half-lifted into a smirk that screamed arrogance. It was a look she'd seen him give village girls far too many times. She stared him down and passed them without a word.

Feyre was nearly out of town when the echo of a feminine laugh bounced off the masonry, and she turned the corner just to meet the eyes of Isaac Hale and the woman who must have been his new wife. He inclined his head slightly in greeting, and she gave him a smile in return. There was nothing in her chest, in her soulㅡnothing of the feelings she had for Tamlinㅡbut a vague sense of gratitude. Gratitude for being her first and only friend, and gratitude for the gentle way he'd interacted with Asteria every year since they'd met.