❛in which they grow to love and learn❜
Briar Desilva hated. She hated the Cursebreaker and the High Lord of Spring. She hated her mind and she hated her body. She hated the memories that danced beyond her reach and the past that was and always has b...
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"i am mine. before i am ever anyone else's." i.n.
❀❀❀
BRIAR STARED AT ELAIN. Elain stared at Briar. They stood, stock still, staring.
Elain's eyes were so wide that white surrounded her brown irises, long eyelashes fanning her brows. Up close, she seemed a lot prettier. Prettier than her far-away beauty. A light dusting of freckles smattered her pale cheeks, covered in a few places by smudges of soil. Her lips were pink and parted in surprise, her dirtied apron discarded.
And Briar was awkwardly standing, one hand on the gold doorknob and the other just hanging. Her own lips were pursed, her cheeks reddening. She opened her mouth to say something.
What was she supposed to say to this female? Take me to your garden but please let's not run into anyone or I will combust. So she didn't say anything, just continued standing. Staring.
Elain let out a burst of oddly high-pitched words. "So - I - do you wanna... we can - what - what do you want to do?"
Briar bit her cheek and shrugged, "I - It doesn't really matter."
Elain nodded, her arms wrapping around her middle as she rocked back and forth a little. She had not expected a yes, Briar supposed, and she understood. If she were Elain, she would have expected the same. Probably wouldn't have even reached out.
Beneath them, muffled voices talked and laughed.
"How about we just go outside? To the garden?" Elain suggested. Probably, Briar guessed, because there were people downstairs ( maybe in the kitchen ). They probably did not want to see her face. See her ever.
Abruptly, Elain whirled around and began to walk left down the hall. Briar stayed frozen for a second before she took a step, quietly shutting the door behind her and following after the flower girl.
Elain led her through winding halls, their footsteps light against the dark wood floors. She had to admit that it was a cozy home; they passed open sitting rooms decorated with plush couches and cushions, dark offices with walls of books and empty coffee mugs. She admired the walls of the home the most, because paintings hung from every surface. Beautiful paintings.
There were detailed portraits of various Fae - the High Lord brightly smiled in one as he looked up from a stack of paperwork, looking so different from the dangerous male she had encountered. In another he lounged at a round table with the Shadowsinger and the other winged male. All three of them sported a hand of cards and a glass of whiskey. Coloured poker chips sat in a heaping pile in the middle of the table.
From what she could remember about poker, the large winged male ( the one with the red gems and the cheeky smile ) was losing. Badly.
There were painted landscapes, too. A beautiful river glistening with sunlight, a rundown cabin in the midst of a snowstorm.
