Wings and Heartbeats (Manorian Fanfiction and crossover between ACOTAR and TOG)

Our terms

"Oh, Nesta! You're back."

Nesta was nearly tackled into the preening and full-bloomed rose bushes behind her as Elain flung herself at her. Nesta awkwardly returned the embrace with one arm. "I am," she said wryly and shrugged off. 

She glanced around the garden where lilies and gardenias and orchids grew from shallow pons, tended grass, floating plant pots and strung up disc-shaped vases. Swaths of blues and greens and pinks flittered around the land, sounds of birds and water streaming were enough to make Nesta wanted to float away. This was why she didn't want to feel, the more attached you are, the more you'll be hurt when it was snatched.

A shriek ran out from the house and a moment later a dark-haired two-year-old was hurtling himself at her. Maven's violet eyes stared up at her from where he was hugging her legs, Feyre came running after her son.

Her nephew. This was her nephew, she gave him a rare smile. This child, who was related to her by blood, his tender innocence, did not deserve her coldness tampering with it. The Nesta long ago would have scowled at the child but that Nesta is long gone. She squared her shoulders and looked at her younger sister.

For a moment there was only silence as they stared at each other. Feyre, in her usual leggings and sweater, her features full and healthy. They came so far-She had gone so far from where they were, all three, huddling in a hovel of a cottage. "Feyre," she started.

Her sister gave her a wide smile, the blue-gray eyes they shared twinkling. "Welcome back, Nesta."

-

"This scrap of fabric is itchy as hell," Manon muttered.

Elide would argue, she thought the Night Court attire was unique and in fact-very practical in other activities than just covering one's self. It was a two-piece set. With a top that flowed down Elide's neck and arms, gathering snugly slightly above her navel and at her wrists, it came with a pair of pants that flowed from beneath her navel and bunched up at her ankles. It was billowing, comfortable, and breezy. Hers was made from a pale bluish-white fabric that was as smooth as satin and as flexible as silk.

Manon's outfit mirrored hers, except her top ended just above her elbows, and hers was made of a fabric of soft pale golf it would have turned into a pastel yellow otherwise. "It's not that bad," Elide said ", I like it."

The witch only snorted and said ", Politeness will either be what save you and be the end of you, Elide."

"At least I'll go down in pleasantly."

Manon gave her an incredulous look.

Elide shrugged ", I do like it."

"Whatever you say."

"To be honest, do you like any clothing other than leathers and armor?"

Manon's nostrils flared. "I like shoes."

"Those don't count."

"Sure, they do."

Elide rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face. They reached the meeting room, it was more of a professional living room meant for family guests rather than discussing matters of danger, but you know never know. From what Elide had seen so far, they were a family. With a lot of drama. She spied the tense shoulders and glances and clenched jaws and fists when no one thought she was looking, for everyone else, she was silent and meek, and that was all she intends for them to see. For now.

Across from the room, on a soft and plush white couch sprawled Aelin, her lean form tall enough so that her knees dangled from the end. Rowan sat on a single cushion beside her, his gaze stoic but at peace, judging by the looseness of his shoulders and the lack of a scowl, she would presume so. Aelin was in a  teal Night Court attire, was fashioned so that there was another sheer transparent layer of fabric that overlayed her sleeves and pants. Rowan wore regular clothes because he was Rowan.