Her fae & His fairy

Chapter 9

Pictures are just give an idea. If you know the original creator of any of these, please leave a comment so I can give credit!

Madja:

Walking up to the High Lords old town house, the first autumn leaves crunched beneath my feet, signalling the start of a whole new season. The sun had been out in full glory the week before, but now dark grey clouds loomed overhead like a blanket. A cold gust of wind sends chills shivering down my back and I reach for my neckline, gathering fabric around it with an instinctive numbed attempt at keeping myself warm. I can't help wishing I had thought to bring a scarf or a light jacket with me.

As I stand before the entrance to the townhouse, I can clearly see the stark contrast between its current state and what it used to look like a few years ago. The grass was always manicured and trimmed to perfection, the wooden fence painted regularly so that it gleamed in the sunlight, and there were never any dead leaves or debris scattered across the small front porch leading up to the entrance. It used to be a beautiful sight that everyone could appreciate when they passed by.

But now, things look so drastically different. The small wooden door leading into the garden is creaking, the rust on its hinges making it difficult to open. The grass and weeds have grown long on both sides of the path, completely obscuring the stone walkway up to the entrance. And what used to be a bright and beautiful window is now stuck in dirt and grime, with spider webs hanging from nearly every corner of its frame. The house that once stood proud on the street, now seems to fall apart.

I raise my hand to knock on the door, but before I can do so, it already swings open and Cassian comes into view. His formidable frame is clad in armour as if he is preparing for a great fight. There's an intensity and a determination in his gaze that speaks of the situation inside of the house.

"Thank you for coming," Cassian speaks, as he allows me to enter the house.

Entering the house is like stepping into a distant memory. What used to be a passage bursting with nostalgia, now only contains faded traces of what once was there. The paintings that once hung on these walls are now gone, having been replaced by small impressions left behind of their frames. It is as though the memories have been forgotten or removed, the life in the house that once was - no longer here.

Cassian extends his hand, offering to take my heavy medical bag from me which I am happy to oblige. The bag is quite bulky, full of herbs, serums and various vials of medicines. It's clear that he had not expected the bag to be as heavy as it was when he shoots me a surprised look. I can't help but feel a slight bit of pride for being able to lug this around with ease despite its weight. I am stronger than I look, Illyrian.

Suddenly I hear the voices of argument, the sound increasing in intensity as I approach. It is none other than Rhysand and Amren going at each other, something that has become all too common for me to witness. Judging by the tone and length of their argument, it has been going on for quite some time. Even though it bores me to observe their constant squabbles after so many centuries, I have no choice but to go meet them where their voices come from.

Inside of the living room, Amren is perched on an armchair in front of a chess-game, her small frame illuminated by the setting sun glowing through the windows. Rhysand paces back and forth in front of the couch, his Illyrian wings held high while Emerie sits in a specially built chair for her wingspan. Amren holds onto a glass of wine with one hand, gazing out at the scenery beyond as if lost in thought. The room is filled with tension between the two of them.

"High Lord," I speak up, to break whatever bickering argument he was about to speak. Rhysand looks my way, as his shoulders slag. He too his clothes in leathers, with his weapons strapped to his shoulders.