JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
She lies on the outer rim of the ramparts. Healed by the queen of Terrastella since the last herd meeting, her position is one more of comfort than the need to baby an injury. Not everything is perfect of course. She has a scar from the gash she'd obtained, mostly healed but imperfect on her glossy obsidian hide. Her fracture has set and is healing, but not one hundred percent, and the leg as a whole is still stiff. The sun setting in the west casts her in its bright orange and red light, the shadows of her body buried behind her back against the stone wall. Her legs are tucked under her as she remains propped up, but her injured right leg remains out.
She stares out toward the sunset, watching the sun slowly descend toward the horizon. Her mind lazily wanders through a menagerie of thoughts. The healing. The gathering of soil to start growing things in the rain-forsaken desert biome. Becoming the Champion of Wisdom. There's a lot to think about, to plan, but constructive thoughts aren't connecting. The inked mare, self-proclaimed prophetess of Solis, desires to build a shrine to their God. That will take some time and effort. Gathering information will be part of her job as well, knowledge for their realm. The question is.. what should she learn? Plants, customs, religion..? At least she has a head start on the religion aspect.
A sigh slips past her velvet lips. She needs to talk to Maxence, or perhaps his regent or emissary, and learn what his specific goals are regarding her. What does he want from her? Then perhaps she will have a better idea of what sagely wisdom she should pursue. As it is, she only has eyes for Solis. As always.
Recent events had left Seraphina’s head swirling.
She lay in a crumpled heap in the library, glossy, mismatched eyes scanning rows and rows of words scrawled neatly on a thin, ancient scroll; the last rays of sun cast through the thin paper, flickering red-gold against her silver skin. The scroll bobbed and weaved with her thoughts, ebbing and flowing as her concentration fluttered in and out of focus. Even though she read the words, they hardly registered. She had been pouring over the documents for hours, trying to absorb every little detail like a good Emissary, but she felt as though most of them had gone straight over her head. The Teryr fight, the change in leadership, her new position…she’d focused on healing her wounds. Most of them had healed up, leaving behind silvery scars that grew fainter with each passing day, though the gash on her forehead was still flushed a soft pink. It didn’t hurt to move, though, and she told herself that was what truly mattered – an incapacitated, sore horse was little more than a liability in the deserts of Solterra.
It was almost a relief when the sun began to set. She supposed that she could light a candle and continue staring at the papers for a few more hours, but, in all honesty, she needed a break. Seraphina was accustomed to wandering the deserts for hours on end in search of trespassers or threats, but paperwork was something else entirely. Stumbling to a stand, stiff from hours spent lying down, she moved awkwardly down the corridors that were now her home, moving out to the ramparts in search of fresh air – or as much as she could find in the Mors – and unconfined space.
The moment that she passed the doorways, her eyes found the shape of a familiar, ink-black mare. Inkheart was still injured, but she seemed to have healed since Seraphina had last laid eyes on her. She was unsure of how to regard her – she found the mare to be rather bigoted and self-righteous, though she couldn’t fault her devotion, and she knew that she held some sort of venom towards her. (“She thinks you’re a dog, Seraphina. They all do.”) She hadn’t bothered to examine the mare enough to understand why, and it wouldn’t have concerned her, had she not been arguably the closest champion to her own position – it was, after all, part of Seraphina’s new job to make sure that Maxence’s laws and decisions aligned with the will of Solis. With that in mind, she took a step towards her gingerly, offering a curt nod of her head. “Inkheart. It seems that your wounds have been healing well.” She cast her gaze to the horizon, though her ears remained tilted towards the other mare. “How are you settling into your new position?” Though she asked as more of a courtesy than anything, Seraphina was genuinely curious about Inkheart’s ambitions – it seemed that they would be working together frequently, one could assume.
@Inkheart <3
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
09-11-2017, 05:34 PM - This post was last modified: 09-11-2017, 05:34 PM by Seraphina
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Of course, no quiet moment goes without being interrupted. Perhaps it is because she is the Champion of Wisdom, perhaps it is because she lies so close to the court. Or, perhaps it is because horses are herd animals and are naturally drawn to each other. Soon, a silvery figure approaches me, her lighter mane, tail, and stripes glinting in the sunlight. The dark mare doesn't look at her at first, at Seraphina. She haven't seen much of the emissary since the Teryr battle and subsequent herd meeting. Her ears catch the greeting, and she's surprised at how... polite and respectful it is. Not kind, but Inkheart does not expect kind from the emissary.
She turns her crown upward, glancing at the mare, and sees that Seraphina's gaze is fixed on the setting sun, then turns back to speak. Inkheart stretches her legs and rises to stand, wings assisting her. Upon standing, she returns her gaze to the silver mare. She's silent at first, measuring the other, but speaks before the silence becomes too awkward. "Indeed, close to healed. I see you're doing well, too." And how is she settling in? It's harder to answer that one. She does not want to admit that she had not done much settling at all, and is rather lost on how best to start. She considers her words carefully. "I have had to focus on healing my leg, and have not been back long since the announcement of our positions." That much is true. "It sounds to me like you have some suggestions. Or perhaps a message from Maxence?" Her golden gaze narrows slightly. She does not hate Seraphina, but there's a certain level of distrust, started from the moment they met upon Inkheart's arrival. It has not improved since then. Perhaps they can work on that relationship in the future. "And you, how are you settling?" She tacks the question on at the end.
Seraphina wasn’t sure what to make of Inkheart, and, frankly, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. She watched the other mare with her usual, eerie calm, expression belaying none of the emotions beneath – if there were any beneath at all. Silence stretched out between the two of them as the other mare offered no response to her question, rather moving to her hooves, massive wings steadying her rise. Seraphina’s eyes returned to her, and moved with her. A part of Seraphina was rather envious of Inkheart’s wings, in the same way that she was somewhat jealous of Maxence or Viceroy. Though frail and brittle, and, in all honesty, something of a liability in combat, (large, delicate appendages? An easy target for any warrior worth her salt!) flight was a freedom that she would never be granted, a way to scour the endless deserts of the Mors in half the time or to pass across the unknowable depths of the Terminus Seas. She realized that her gaze had lingered on her wings for a fraction of a second too long, before she even realized that the other mare was speaking, and she had to quickly recount Inkheart’s words, that had, admittedly, gone through one ear and out the other. She was doing better…Seraphina looked to be doing better…
She offered a nod of confirmation, a bit awkwardly.
Seraphina pretended that she couldn’t hear the tone of – not venom – perhaps distrust? – in Inkheart’s voice at her next question. “I haven’t heard anything from Maxence,” She replied stiffly, eyes narrowing fractionally in response to the other mare’s hint of a glare, “and I’m afraid that I've been far too busy with my own duties to consider yours. Is there anything that you would have me do?” Any venom provoked in her first statement was quickly masked by her question. Perhaps she had suggestions, and, if her will was truly in alignment with Solis’s, Seraphina would be happy to try to do it…or obligated, at the very least. Her last question took Seraphina by surprise, and it took her a moment to conjure an appropriate reaction. “It has been…an adjustment,” She admitted, a bit reluctantly, “but I find the material intriguing.” The “material,” of course, being the political history in the scrolls in the library - not the diplomacy. Never the diplomacy. She considered the other mare again, allowing her gaze to settle on the brilliant gold of Inkheart’s eyes.
@Inkheart <3
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
A nod of confirmation is all she gets as for Seraphina's wellbeing. And that's okay, because it occurs to Inkheart that there isn't much to be said between the two. It's like an uneasy agreement, unspoken between the mares, that they should work in cooperation but not with the joy of companions. It's a union of necessity. The emissary has her duties and is likely suited to deal with them. Just as Inkheart has hers. No word from Maxence. That is to be expected, she supposes. After all, he is the sovereign and must be dealing with many aspects of his new rule. She is aware of the attempts to grow a garden, to obtain fertile soil to produce for themselves. All the same, it's rather curious that the leader would not have many direct orders for the followers he had just named into positions. It sends a twang of irritation through her, but she puts the reaction aside so that she may focus on the now, with Seraphina.
Her golden gaze returns to glance at the silvery mare. "The material." She repeats the words of the emissary. "Indeed there is much material, much knowledge for all of us to cover, it would seem." She gestures with her crown back toward the inside of the court. "I am not sure of the location yet, but I would like to build a shrine, a temple to Solis." Then her gaze scrutinizes the emissary, and she begins to think more critically about her own mission, and how she can use the emissary to her advantage. "As the emissary, I am sure it is more appropriate for you than I to spread the word of Solis among the realms. Unless I were given permission by our sovereign, of course." The smile she gives is genuine. Though Inkheart has no problem with traveling among Novus to proselytize, and would enjoy doing so, it is probably for the best if she wasn't - to keep community ties of course. Plus, there were always demons to cleanse, and why not start with her homeland. "I believe I will start with learning more about the histories of Novus, and Solis in particular. If you hear any word from our sovereign, you will pass it on, yes?"
The acknowledgement of the sheer amount of material that all of those that had risen to power provoked nothing more than another stiff nod from the silver mare, though Inkheart’s words were more true than she’d like to admit. They were all terribly inexperienced in their respective positions, insofar as she could tell, stumbling into power like children unprepared of the world it offered them. She was not a woman who was frightened of much, but she had felt more fear and apprehension in the past several weeks than she ever had before in her life, and more uncertainty. She’d never had to question authority before, and she’d never been authority before. Seraphina had only ever been a soldier giving orders, and now she was meant to give orders, to strategize in her own right? It was nerve-wracking. (If Viceroy could see her now, she had a feeling that he’d be laughing.) But her focus wasn’t on her own duties – rather, it was on Inkheart’s proposition. “A temple, eh?” She sounded, for once, genuinely thoughtful. It would certainly improve morale – the Solterrans were a religious people, as a general rule, living and dying by the sun, and there was nothing to bring people together like religion. “I can get word to Maxence, if nothing else. What did you have in mind?” If Inkheart sought rare materials for the temple, and Seraphina imagined she would, they would take time – and effort – to procure. Best to get started in advance, considering that negotiating trade probably fell under her jurisdiction.
Her next words caught Seraphina off guard. Spread the word of Solis? Although Seraphina was religious, and well-versed in the lore of Solterra, she was not a sage or a prophet – she hadn’t even seen the texts that dictated the words she claimed to believe so deeply until very recently. For a fraction of a second, her eyes narrowed, as though diagnosing the other mare’s sudden smile for some sign of ill intentions, but there were none to be found. Her next words were chosen carefully. “I would worry about the diplomatic consequences of spreading Solis’s word myself. Religion is touchy for many. However…what would you suggest I do?” If she could suggest a particularly diplomatic way of bringing people to Solis’s light, Seraphina might be willing to go along with it, if only to further the cause of the Day Court. Loyalty to Solis meant loyalty to his people, after all. Her next words were met with an immediate, “Of course. And the library is completely open to you. Should you need anything, I can likely tell you where to search – I’ve been cataloguing our historical documents.” She didn’t particularly like Inkheart, but she wouldn’t dream of keeping her from her duties – her foremost concern was the efficiency of the court, and an efficient court needed efficient champions.
@Inkheart <3
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Inkheart is surprised to find that Seraphina is not just accepting Inkheart's proposition, but agreeing to it as well. Part of her mind deviates, distracted with clouts of suspicion. But the other part of her mind remains honed on her goal. It works furiously, thinking of where the shrine would be, what materials would be used, what the design might be. She's torn from the thought by Seraphina's next question. How would she spread the good word of Solis? 'Religion is touchy.' Her lips slip into a smirk. "Of course religion is touchy. There are many lost souls in this world, nearly as many that are weakened and possessed by darkness and evil." It's the first she's let slip to the Solterrans of her belief in demon possession. But it is the truth, as real as the sand below her. Fear not, Emissary. I come bearing solutions. She glances out into the horizon, as if she can see to the courts far beyond. "Speak to them of the Gods, of Solis. Enter a dialogue - anger, force, and hatred are no good and will only make others more resistant. Preach the good word and encourage them to see the light that Solis brings to our lives, the world. Raise the positives until goodness is all they can see."
Indeed, that is the approach that Inkheart has taken before. It has engaged her intellectually, philosophically, and spiritually. She reflects back on her conversation with Florentine, and the idea that Time is something that should not be controlled. It was a wonderfully profound, prodigious talk that rocked Inkheart's world. It has not changed the way that Inkheart approaches the world, but it reminds her to keep an open mind and heart. Seraphina's offer to help surprises Inkheart, and a glimmer of that emotion floats across her face. "I will take your offer into consideration. Thank you." She speaks genuinely, and finds a moment of peace and coexistence between them. "I think I would like to use some form of bricks, clay formed from various materials. All things we can gather here in Solterra or in Ruris. But later I would like to perhaps gather precious gems or glass to decorate it. Humble beginnings, though, for our faith does not need glamor." She smiles more to herself in consideration of the idea. It will be a glorious undertaking indeed.
Seraphina felt a jolt of confusion at the other mare’s next statement. There was nothing unusual about stating that religion was a difficult, and controversial, topic, particularly in a land where the gods had been openly in conflict, and she didn’t find the supposition that many souls were lost particularly strange either. It was the other half of her sentence, the insinuation that there were individuals somehow beholden to some kind of ambiguous malevolence, that made her charcoal ears prick. “Possessed by darkness and evil?” She repeated tentatively, a reluctantly curious question implied by her tone. Her next remark took Seraphina by surprise; she had always expected the zealous woman to be less…diplomatic in her conversions. However, she supposed, Inkheart was an intelligent creature, and she had to know that it was more effective to convert through kindness and rationale – persuasion – than violence. Seraphina was hardly inclined to listen to her yet, but offered a moderate, “If I see the opportunity, I will do what I can to assist you.” She was a devout woman in her own right, though disinclined to verbalize it. (It was only natural to say positive things about her god, if asked – perhaps that would be enough to satisfy the Champion.) Seraphina didn’t linger on her request for long, however.
Her mind was already whirling with the work that would have to be done to build the temple – collecting the materials would take time and workers, skilled individuals to craft the bricks, trade for the embellishments…not that they were needed, something she was admittedly in agreement with Inkheart on. “Certainly.” It was not the way of Solis to be excessively grandiose, of course; he was a god of toil and survival, the scalding heat of the sun and the rough embrace of desert sands. Besides, grandiose and excessively ornamental projects left the bitter taste of Zolin in her mouth, and the further they were from the memory of his reign, the better.
@Inkheart - gyah, this took fifty years, and the quality is...questionable at best. sorry. anyways, sera'll probably be out in the next post; trying to finish up old threads ATM
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
She watched the beautiful mare carefully, wondering exactly what effect her words on the other. Of course she knew that her own zealotry was somewhat overwhelming to others. That was not news to her, even if she found it appropriate to worship the Sun God so. Her comment about the dark and evil creatures in the world seemed to catch Seraphina off guard. It was obvious when she repeated back Ink's own words. Ink did not elaborate. She did not comment on the assistance that Seraphina offered. It seemed like the silver mare felt obligated to agree, with limited commitment and modest faith.
She had the impulse to... placate. "I understand that perhaps this is not your idea of a top priority item. I understand. But as Champion of the Wise -- such a mouthful -- it is my obligation to learn, teach, help the population of Solterra grow. I believe this temple, shrine, will assist in that. I assure you that I will be available to assist in other efforts for the court as well." She offered a simple smile in reassurance. "Perhaps you could help spread the word of my intentions?" She dipped her head politely, then turned to leave while spreading her wings to depart. "Until next time, Seraphina."
Best to end it there before we both lose any more momentum! Thanks for your patience with me <3 @Seraphina
