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wingedblooms · 10 months

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Wraithlike

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

In the Throne of Glass series, Sarah makes quite a few references to wraiths. Forms that are wraithlike are nearly transparent; they are bodies that aren’t bodies. These forms move like the wind and appear suddenly. The most striking references include the void, like when Aelin and Manon enter a witch mirror and watch a memory in the space between. Or the references to hell, especially the grieving queen who walks like she is traveling through a dreamscape, or an empty, barren hell. Take a look for yourself:

He dragged a hand across the floor before the darkness, and greenish lights sprung up from where his fingers passed before being sucked into the void like wraiths on the wind. One of his hands was bleeding. (tog) Dorian Havilliard stood at the ballroom window, watching Celaena and Chaol dance in the garden beyond, their dark cloaks flowing around them like they were no more than two wraiths spinning through the wind. After hours of dancing, he’d finally managed to get free of the ladies demanding his attention, and had come to the window to get some much-needed fresh air. (com) Slowly, like lovely wraiths from a hell-realm, the witches appeared. (qos) Aelin had a body that was not a body. She knew only because in this void, this foggy twilight, Manon had a body. A nearly transparent, wraithlike body, but … a form nonetheless. (eos) Clad in white silk, her long curtain of dark hair unbound, the Grand Empress strolled, silent and grave as a wraith, down a walkway wending through the rock formations of the garden. Only moonlight filled the space—moonlight and shadow, as the empress strode alone and unnoticed, her simple gown flowing behind her as if on a phantom wind. White for grief—for death. […] Nesryn lingered in the shadows of the pillar, watching the woman drift farther away, as if she were wandering the paths of some dreamscape. Or perhaps some empty, barren hell. (tod) Silent as wraiths, they appeared across the glen. As if they’d simply sparked into existence in the shade of the foliage. Little bodies, some pale, some black as night, some scaled. Mostly concealed, save for spindly fingers and wide, unblinking eyes. Elide gasped. “The Little Folk.” (koa) It was over before it really started. The mercenary got in two hits, both met with those wicked-looking daggers. And then she knocked him out cold with a swift blow to the head. So fast—unspeakably fast and graceful. A wraith moving through the mist. (ab) The moon illuminated the mist swirling along the leaf-strewn ground, and made the trees cast long shadows like lurking wraiths. And there��standing in a copse of thorns—was a white stag. Celaena’s breath hitched. (ab)

Naturally, I was curious how these links held up when we actually meet wraiths in A Court of Thorns and Roses (acotar) and Crescent City (cc). In acotar, we meet half-wraith twins who appear and disappear suddenly, even into a puff of smoke. Amren says they are nothing but shadow and mist, and can travel through walls.

They appeared through the cracks from slivers of darkness, just as Rhysand had. But while he’d solidified into a tangible form, these faeries remained mostly made of shadow, their features barely discernable, save for their loose, flowing cobweb gowns. They remained silent when they reached for me. I didn’t fight them—there was nothing to fight them with, and nowhere to run. The hands they clasped around my forearms were cool but solid—as if the shadows were a coating, a second skin. (acotar) The shadow maids, as usual, walked through the walls and vanished. (acotar) Nails clicked on stone, and my escorts swapped glances before they swung me into an alcove, a tapestry that hadn’t been there a moment before falling over us, the shadows deepening, solidifying. I had a feeling that if someone pulled back that tapestry, they would see only darkness and stone. One of them covered my mouth with a hand, holding me tightly to her, shadows slithering down her arm and onto mine. She smelled of jasmine—I’d never noticed that before. After all these nights, I didn’t even know their names. (acotar) Amren, at least, knocked this time before entering. Nuala and Cerridwen, who had finished setting combs of mother-of-pearl into my hair, took one look at the delicate female and vanished into puffs of smoke. “Skittish things,” Amren said, her red lips cutting a cruel line. “Wraiths always are.” “Wraiths?” I twisted in the seat before the vanity. “I thought they were High Fae.” “Half,” Amren said, surveying my turquoise, cobalt, and white clothes. “Wraiths are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone—you name it. I don’t even want to know how those two were conceived. High Fae will stick their cocks anywhere.” I choked on what could have been a laugh or a cough. “They make good spies.” (acomaf)

In Crescent City, Vanir wraiths change bodies often to maintain a youthful appearance (thanks for this reminder, @offtorivendell!). We learn this when Bryce meets Vik, a wraith who is trapped in the beautiful body she possesses, and then ripped from that same body and contained in a box at the bottom of the Melinoë Trench as punishment. (This is a terrible punishment, but the name is fitting—Melinoë was associated with ghosts, and wraiths are ghostly in appearance.) Micah is truly the worst.

The wraith folded her alabaster hands in her lap, the unnatural elegance the only sign of the ancient power that rippled beneath the calm surface. Vik had no body of her own. Though she’d fought in the 18th, Isaiah had learned her history only when he’d arrived here ten years ago. How Viktoria had acquired this particular body, who it had once belonged to, he didn’t ask. She hadn’t told him. Wraiths wore bodies the way some people owned cars. Vanir wraiths switched them often, usually at the first sign of aging, but Viktoria had held on to this one for longer than usual, liking its build and movement, she’d said. Now she held on to it because she had no choice. It had been Micah’s punishment for her rebellion: to trap her within this body. Forever. No more changing, no more trading up for something newer and sleeker. For two hundred years, Vik had been contained, forced to weather the slow erosion of the body, now plainly visible: the thin lines starting to carve themselves around her eyes, the crease now etched in her forehead above the tattoo’s twining band of thorns. (hoeab) At least Bryce could now appreciate the beauty before her: the dark hair and pale skin and stunning green eyes were all Pangeran heritage, speaking of vineyards and carved marble palaces. But the grace with which Viktoria moved … Viktoria must have been old as Hel to have that sort of fluid beauty. To be able to steer her body so smoothly. (hoeab) “Through the glare of the firstlight beams atop the remote submersible, more fleshy white bits floated by. This was what the wraith Viktoria had been damned by Micah to endure. The former Archangel had shoved her essence into a magically sealed box while the wraith remained fully conscious despite having no corporeal form, and dropped her to the floor of the Melinoë Trench. […] The wraith’s shoebox-sized Helhole had been bespelled against the pressure. And Viktoria, not needing food or water, would live forever. Trapped. Alone. No light, nothing but silence, not even the comfort of her own voice. (hosab)

What does this mean for Elain’s story, and why am I even mentioning her in a wraith meta? In the acotar series, Nuala and Cerridwen, half-wraith twins, draw Elain out of her grief and help her learn how to bake. Sarah mentions that Elain considers them her friends twice in acosf alone:

Tending to the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens–she had purpose, and joy, and friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysand’s household. (acosf) “You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

She also plants the idea that Elain might be engaging in stealth training with them (and/or Azriel, who trained them). That would make sense since she has learned from them before and she started to move like them after developing a friendship. She tends to move silently and appears suddenly, even stepping out of shadow. Before she was Made, Elain moved with the grace of a doe, so that newfound skill may have come fairly naturally.

In acosf, Nesta also recalls how Elain was after being Made and refers to her as a ghost. She comments that she (Nesta) was the ghost now, worse than a ghost: she was a wrathful wraith. This description of a wraith doesn’t quite match what we know about the few wraiths in the maasverse we’ve met; it seems more like a frightening bedtime story of a legendary monster, which is perhaps meant to reflect Nesta’s own inner turmoil. But the description of Elain when she is first Made is eerily similar to the wraithlike queen in tod:

Where Nesta had been in contented silence before we found her, Elain’s silence was…hollow. Empty. Her hair was down—not even braided. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it unbound. She wore a moon-white silk dressing robe. She did not look, or speak, or even flinch as we entered. Her too-thin arms rested on her chair. That iron engagement ring still encircled her finger. Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. […] Nesta’s rage was better than this…shell. This void. My breath caught as I edged around her chair. Beheld the city view she stared so blankly at. Then beheld the hollowed-out cheeks, the bloodless lips, the brown eyes that had once been rich and warm, and now seemed utterly dull. Like grave dirt. (acowar)

The interesting part about this connection is that Elain likely was wandering through some dreamscape like a wraith with her Sight. This pale, hollow image of Elain also aligns with the definition of a wraith.

Elain appears wraithlike again (probably on purpose) when she wears a black gown in the Hewn City, a place of rotting darkness. Cassian notes:

“Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved modest gown leeched the brightness from her face.” […] He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her.” (acosf)

Elain’s black dress makes her look plain and invisible compared to her sister. She lacks color and vibrancy just as she did in the House of Wind, though in black instead of white. It’s possible she did this on purpose since she’s altered her appearance before and the half-wraith twins helped her dress for that occasion, too. Could they have dressed her strategically to escape notice on solstice, and could this be another hint of wraithlike powers?

In Song of the wind, I wondered if Elain could be a pale wraith, a force of light and color and wind, who moves like Hope through the Void. She’s described in terms that do not have a definite form (pale, golden mass in his arms; sunlight on gold; purple and gold flashed), and even asked Amren about changing bodies in acofas. We know that Vanir wraiths can wear different bodies, like shapeshifters walk in different skins (ie., skinwalkers). Wraiths, however, have no definite form beneath the body they wear. Is that the true reason why Elain boldly asked Amren if she could take a different form, change bodies?

“Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form? […] Then why did you pick this body? […] And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” (acofas)

Elain as a wraith (or wraith adjacent, lol) would be a fun way to come full circle with the parallel @kimsnnn discusses here. After pointed inquiry about Amren’s otherworldly eyes, Nesta’s otherworldly power glowed silver in her eyes. It’s possible the dinner conversation about changing form might then be a hint that Elain and Amren will share otherworldly forms. Amren’s otherworldly form was a bird of prey, a messenger. She watched over humans, and when ordered, acted as a soldier-assassin.

Amren smiled slightly—at me, at Varian. “I watched them for so many eons. Humans—in my world, there were humans, too. And I watched them love, and hate—wage senseless war and find precious peace. Watched them build lives, build worlds. I was … I was never allowed such things. I had not been designed that way, had not been ordered to do so. So I watched. And that day I came here … it was the first selfish thing I had done. For a long, long while I thought it was punishment for disobeying my Father’s orders, for wanting. I thought this world was some hell he’d locked me into for disobedience.” (acowar)

You know who else watches others through physical eyes and Cauldron-blessed Sight? Elain. I’ve wondered before if she is an otherworldly messenger and/or guardian like Silba’s owl or the Suriel (who is your stereotypical wraith). Alert and aware. Silent travelers, full of wisdom. There are some who even believe the word wraith is connected to the Norse word for watcher, but several sources indicate the origin is unclear. Regardless, Elain acts like a wraithlike guardian, appearing suddenly out of shadow to protect her family. It's possible she used this skill to wear the body of Balthazar and help Nesta and Emerie find safety during the Blood Rite.

Even if Elain isn’t an actual wraith, I think we can reasonably predict that she will learn more from Nuala and Cerridwen, and their gifts may complement her own as she practices using her Cauldron-blessed powers. When she cannot see something, Elain says it is all mist and shadow, and Nuala and Cerridwen are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone. Could they teach Elain how to break through the walls of her Sight?

With all the connections wraiths seem to have with void and hell, Nuala and Cerridwen may help her use the Void to peer into and/or travel to Hel (as both @offtorivendell and I have theorized). It would make sense for them to use the space between together, especially if Elain has mystic abilities and can move fluidly across space like a wraith’s essence. They’ve been helping her all along and will probably continue to do so. In her own words, Elain already told us that “Nuala and Cerridwen will help her [me]” (acowar). And there are so many things Elain seems eager to learn from them.

Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour. Some sort of doughy mess on the surface before them. The two handmaiden-spies instantly bowed to Rhys, and Elain— There was a slight sparkle in her brown eyes. As if she’d been enjoying herself with them. Nuala swallowed hard. “The lady said she was hungry, so we went to make her something. But—she said she wanted to learn how, so…” Hands wreathed in shadows lifted in a helpless gesture, flour drifting off them like veils of snow. “We’re making bread.” (acowar)

P.S., Is it any coincidence that they likely look like three lovely ghosts, covered in flour, when they work together?

#elain archeron #nuala and cerridwen #wraithlike elain #lovely wraiths #wraiths on the wind #watchers #guardians #ever shifting form #like the goddess of fate #major Urd vibes #flame and shadow #maasverse theories

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rhyswhitethorn · 4 years

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"I ACCIDENTALLY BURNED THE KITCHEN DOWN BECAUSE I WANTED YOU TO HAVE A NICE DINNER THEN PROPOSE TO YOU SOO..." for ANY ship!

This was fun to write, but I apologize if it’s a little on the short side :< It took me 5 minutes to decide whether it would be a Manorian thing or Elriel thing, and ended up deciding on the latter. Only cause Manon would just shake her head at Dorian in disappointment.

Also, a little bit of fluff!! Just a teeny tiny bit.

Burnt Proposals (ELRIEL)

Azriel was fucked. He was fucked, ten times over, and until he was long dead and paying for his sins in the Afterlife. He knew it. The kitchen was covered in soot, the air filled with the smells of burnt meat and wood. He stood by the island, beholding the destruction that had happened under his similarly burnt hands.

Azriel blinked as Nuala and Cerridwen rushed around, trying to clean up the ashy mess. The half-wraiths had already thrown out the turkey he had placed in the oven, and Nuala even had the nerve to lecture him about leaving the stove on for the sauce without monitoring it.

For a spymaster, you’re not very observant with your cooking, she had claimed. Azriel had just sighed at that. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it, and had not known what to clean first before the twins had walked in and taken over. He didn’t even know what to look at first. He just watched as they skittled around, as if it wasn’t a big deal. He finally settled on looking at the cause of the explosion; the source of the boom. The chrome coloured stove.

That beautiful stove. A gift from Feyre to Elain, procured by Azriel himself in the mortal world filled with Faerie in the rich city of Nova Avian. Studying it, he winced when he saw that the right side of it has melted significantly, along with a small part of the countertop beside it. That wasn’t the worse part. though. He surveyed the wooden cupboards and beams that surrounded the top half of the kitchen.

Or the lack of it, anyway.

Rhysand’s mother had never allowed Cassian or Rhys to cook in the kitchen of her cottage when they were training for this very reason. Only Azriel was allowed, and that was only to cook eggs.

She would’ve pulled his ear if she knew what he had just done.

Should he try to get a new stove before Elain comes home? Who was he kidding. It would take weeks for it to come here by ship. He gritted his teeth. trying to grind his gears to figure out a solution. Maybe he could bribe Rhysand into making Elain stay with Feyre for a little while. Not until this mess was sorted. Would she realize there’s a different stove in the kitchen if he replaced it for the time being?

The Fawn, he heard, an echo into his ear. The shadows around it twirled and curled, before dissipating. Azriel was still trying to think of an answer for his problem when he realized what his shadows were saying.

He turned slowly, and before him stood Elain Archeron. Her two hands were holding a basket of fruits, mouth gaping, eyes focused behind him, to where the stove would be. He hid his wince and was well aware Nuala and Cerridwen had left. Azriel should have ushered Elain away when his shadows had warned him, but could you blame the Shadowsinger when even his shadows shy away from her? It wasn’t exactly a warning.

Fawn, fawn, fawn.

The name the shadows had given her. He continued looking at Elain as her eyes darted around, trying to understand the situation. A look on the island and a sigh before she headed towards the dining table behind, setting down the fruit basket. Right. The island was covered in soot. She walked back to Azriel and crossed her arms.

“What happened?”

He gulped. “Um, this—I don’t know. I mean I know. I just don’t know how to explain—it exploded,” Azriel managed to say, feeling his face heat up. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, and was terrified he’d burst out.

“How did it explode?” Elain’s voice was soft now.

“I was baking something in the oven and cooking something on top and I looked away for a short while.” It wasn’t short. He was trying to hide something. Five minutes, tops.

“Why were you doing all that?” She asked, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. She was so close to him now, if he leaned down, he could kiss her forehead. Her scent filled his nose at full force and—yeah, there’s the rise of anxiety.

“I accidentally burned the kitchen down because I wanted you to have a nice dinner before I proposed to you!” The words came out in a rush, and she stepped back, her eyes widening.

Elain opened her mouth and laughed.

Azriel watched her in disbelief. She laughed for a while, her eyes tearing up and her stomach coming in stitches. Everytime she looked at him, she laughed again. He just blinked at her. The shadows began curling around his arm, his face, as if they were fascinated and attracted to her joy.

She finally settled down. It wasn’t even a good second before she threw her arms around in, hugging him tightly.

“You’re not angry? Why did you laugh?” Azriel asked, his arms wrapping around her instinctively.

Her voice was soft at his neck when she said, “Because, dummy, if you actually proposed, I would’ve said yes, and I would know that there are many kitchens to be burned down after this.” Azriel froze. She had already indirectly accepted the request. Might as well just skip the nice dinner, and go on with it. He pulled away, to her dismay.

“You ruined it for me,” he said, and she was about to answer when he pulled it out.

A long, gold chain he had to stuff through his leathers, causing the loss of the stove. She watched as he lifted it above his head and placed it through hers. Elain fingered the jewelry hanging at the end. A pale pink stone in the shape of a disc, with a smaller gem in the center. Cobalt blue. Just like his siphons.

“I love it,” he heard her whisper. He smiled.

“Will you marry me, Elain Archeron?”

Elain just looked up at him, eyes shining. She glanced at the fruit basket behind her, and added, “We’ll go eat along the Sidra.” She smiled and hugged him again, only harder.

“Yes. I’ll marry you, you clumsy bat!”

His laughed filled the air, followed by hers, and in that moment, the soot covered kitchen and melted stove was forgotten.

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