[P] how I wish I could remold you

[Seraphina]

YOU WANNA TAKE A DRINK OF THAT PROMISED LAND
gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands

--

Stars coated the night sky in a thinly-woven blanket of glistening silver, a tangle of pale light that seemed to flicker in and out of existence imperceptibly – when she was younger, Seraphina would spend hours navigating by starlight, head drooping as she stumbled in-between Viceroy’s hooves. Now, little more than a rudimentary glance up told her exactly where she stood in the vast, smoldering deserts of Solterra, and she had long since stopped thinking about how lovely they were. She was fairly sure that she had looked up at them with wonder a very long time ago, but she didn’t really remember what it felt like, short flashes of images that seemed to her to have happened in third person. Seraphina reminded herself that it didn’t matter, and it never had.


She stood on the high ridges of one of the canyons, eyes cast out on the horizon and searching for something beyond the light of distant stars. Although she was no longer a warrior or a guard, – diplomacy still left an odd taste in her mouth, with her perpetual, if generally tactical, bluntness – it soothed her to wander the borders. The wounds from the Teryr fight that had so terribly marred her glistening silver coat had largely healed in the days – weeks – she had spent confined in the library like a bird in a cage, pouring over documents and history and culture. (The pages were so fine, the scrolls soft and delicate as Spring’s first blushing bloom; she almost feared to touch them, with skin rough from the sand and eyes cast over with jade.) Her hips no longer pricked and ached when she walked, and, for that, she was grateful. Seraphina could return to running.


Tonight, however, she had something of a mission – more specifically, to meet the Dusk Court Emissary, a lovely little pale golden girl by the name of Florentine. Considering their respective occupations, she supposed that it would be in her best interests to attempt to get to know the girl, (girl, she said, as though they were not about the same age) though, in all honesty, she hadn’t the foggiest inclination of how. Florentine was gauzy, graceful, ethereal – all kind smiles and delicate words, soft as the flowers strung in her hair. And if Florentine was the sort of girl that radiated love, breathed it and lived it with her entire being, then Seraphina was a girl with no love at all. There was no room for love or gentleness in a child that had grown old and wise in the confines of battle, no room for sweetness or affection in a gaze sharp and cold as polished steel. In some, small way, Seraphina found herself envious of Florentine and her love, how easily she seemed to adapt to her new role in spite of her status as a foreigner, how deeply and effortlessly loved she seemed to be by those around her.


She reminded herself that it didn’t matter, and continued her silent vigil, still and quiet as a statue save for the near-imperceptible flutter of her hair in the soft desert wind.

@

@Florentine - no idea how to start this, BUT <3

[Florentine]

florentine
The canyon was a maze of dark, dark arteries that ran beneath Florentine’s beating wings. It was not difficult to picture water flowing through them, black as pitch, and a shiver slithered along the girl’s spine.
 
With each beat of her wings that took her closer into Solterra, the Dusk girl’s heart grew heavier. Even with his letter stowed within her room, Florentine cannot ease this terrible twinging of her heart. That day when she stood beneath Bexley’s ire in the shade of the Oasis, still made her wayward heart ache and ache.
 
Her skin is no more golden as it is silver in this milky moonlight. For a moment, she wishes it was not just her skin that could change, but her heart and everything that made her, her. Where Seraphina might wish to have but a bit of Florentine’s love, well, Florentine was a cautionary tale on the perils of loving just a little too freely.
 
The girl is surprisingly quiet as she lands beside Solterra’s emissary. Her eyes drift over the other girl’s stormy skin. She was a lightning storm upon the clifftop. Her skin split by a white that glows ethereal and ominous, her limbs fade into the inky black of the swallowing canyon. She is another warrior and it seems age and gender is all these two girls share.
 
Amethyst eyes fall from Seraphina’s skin and it is blesséd relief that the canyon is cooler with the ruling night. Even the sands upon her feet lack their burning glare. Her eyes tumble down a canyon wall and she wonders how she found the strength to climb – she would not now. Not with a heart so heavy as this land makes her own.
 
With lashes closed tight, for just a moment of peace, her gaze turns back to Seraphina. “Thank you for inviting me.” She greets, as softly as the petals within her mane. “I am even more grateful it’s at night. This place can be quite stifling through the day when one is not accustomed.” Her smile is small, yet easy.  

@Seraphina <3 So sorry you had to wait and even more sorry that this is so subpar. :( <3 

[Seraphina]

YOU WANNA TAKE A DRINK OF THAT PROMISED LAND
gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands

--

Seraphina watched the golden girl descend from the heavens in silence; she was like some celestial being, pale coat glowing like some ethereal beacon in the moonlight. Florentine was beautiful, she thought, small and slender and soft, engulfed in soft feathers and long, silken tresses tangled with sweet purple flowers. She felt strange standing alongside her, like sandpaper brushed up against something made of silk; Seraphina was rough and dead as the desert from whence she came, and she felt indescribably bizarre alongside this girl who hailed from lands of verdant green, as thoroughly entangled with the concept of wild as they were alive. She wondered for a moment who Florentine was – she felt that she’d gathered nothing from the gentle smiles and the soft voice, the gold and the sweet, sweet flowers. Perhaps, she considered, perhaps she was just unaccustomed to others wearing their hearts on their sleeves.

She dipped her head stiffly in greeting to the other Emissary, lips not even twitching in a ghost of a smile as she turned to meet her amethyst eyes with her own mismatched chips of glass. “In truth,” She admits, voice low and rasping from desert wind, “the heat can be bitter even to one who is accustomed to it. I appreciate your coming.” Seraphina hadn’t been sure how the Emissary would react to her invitation – she knew that her court could be abrasive, and she wasn’t sure about how Florentine’s previous interactions with the Solterrans had gone. “Have you spent much time in Solterra?” Perhaps the other Emissaries were more apt to traveling for their duties; she’d spent most of her time locked in the back of the library, restrained to bedrest for the sake of healing one injury or another. If she stopped getting into fights, she supposed she might be a more effective diplomat, but Solterra was a nation of warriors. It wouldn’t do to for their representative to be in anything less than fighting form.

She had questions, of course – a request for the other Emissary, to say the least. (Seraphina wondered, a bit anxiously, if she would agree to her proposition. She imagined that the Dusk girl would enjoy a celebration, but Seraphina herself was completely unaccustomed to arranging them. She supposed that was where Bexley came in, though.) It seemed unfair to spring her suggestion on Florentine immediately, however, so Seraphina supposed that she would suffer her way through a bit of small talk before she proposed the joint celebration…

If nothing else, she supposed she might learn a bit more about who Florentine was, beneath her celestial golden coat and dazzling smile.

@

@Florentine - sososososo sorry this took so long, lovely! <3

[Florentine]

florentine
 

Stars stretched and stretched and stretched above. If the flower girl looked up there were stars in the spaces between stars. So many the sky seemed made of glittering dust and dust alone.
 
The evening breeze pushes along brush-smudged clouds and tangled itself into the snarls of her mane. Petals washed across the clifftop where the two Emissaries stood.
 
If Seraphina felt like abrading sandpaper, it was a far cry from the Dusk girl’s perception of her. For to Florentine’s amethyst eyes, the desert girl was a pool of liquid silver in the moonlight. Her dark striations were the ripples of luxurious metal. Seraphina was a weapon, a creature forged for battle. Though she may be an Emissary – a rank borne of words and diplomacy, Florentine was no fool: this girl is a knife within the dark.
 
The Dusk Emissary blinks slowly, her eyes leaving the gleam of Seraphina’s skin. “I have been here a few times. And met with your Commander, Maxence.” Her words trail off, carried down deep into the ravine below. Her thoughts drift to the oasis, to a day spent in the pool with Bexley. She flower girl sighs, it all seemed so long ago now… and yet the pain, oh the pain still burned, hot, hot like a poker fresh from the fire.
 
“What business do you have this time, Seraphina? Last I was here Maxence was talking of alliance… does he wish to rescind our agreement?” There is no threat or real concern in the way Florentine asks such a question. In fact, all she truly begins to worry over is whether she has used the word ‘rescind’ in quite the right fashion…
 
Her golden lashes brush like wings across her cheekbones as she looks to their twin shadows upon the ground. They are not so different in their shadow forms and for a moment Florentine smiles. “I have heard of tensions between Night and Day. Should my Court be concerned?”
 
From beneath her thick fringe of wild honey hair and budding lavender, Flora surveys the other young Emissary. 

@Seraphina
 

[Seraphina]

YOU WANNA TAKE A DRINK OF THAT PROMISED LAND
gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands

--

She hadn’t paid much attention to the flowers strewn in Florentine’s hair before, but, as the breeze pushed them aside in a sudden whirl of sweet-scented color, she couldn’t help but wonder about them; did they grow in the girl’s mane (a rather amusing thought, though not particularly strange in Novus – and somehow utterly fitting for Florentine), or did she go through the pain-staking process of stringing them in every day? Seraphina was drawn out of her thoughts by her question, however, and shook her head. “Nothing of the sort,” She said. “In fact, quite the opposite – we’d like to host something of a celebration for our alliance, in hopes of cementing a relationship between our nations. I imagine it would be beneficial to allow our citizens the opportunity to get to know each other.” This was said almost gingerly. Solterra was not a nation prone to celebration, after all.

Her next question, particularly combined with the ghost of a smile on the girl’s lips (though she was reasonably sure that it was directed at something else entirely), gave Seraphina momentary pause. She could simply tell her that their relationship with Denocte was fine, but she knew that, if Day really intended to align with Dusk, they needed reason to trust them. With that in mind, she began reluctantly. “…I am not sure how much you know of Novus’s history, but the relationship between our courts has always been tense. Whether that is due to our religion or to something else entirely I am unsure, but we have been at war with Denocte on-and-off for many years; in fact, it was only with the death of the previous sovereign, Zolin, that our most recent conflict came to an end.” The girl’s eyes darkened for a moment, as though she tasted something bitter – thoughts of Zolin and the war with Denocte brought back ugly memories, ones that she would rather not recall. “In any case, I can say that we do not desire to incite Denocte, nor would we be in any position to do so even if we did – and those among us that might disagree with me are blissfully unaware of what that would mean. We are a nation of warriors, after all, and I suspect that some of the more hot-headed among us believe that war would bring them glory; I’d be apt to imagine that the sentiment is the same in some of Caligo’s children, as well. Old wounds run deep for both of us…there have been many lost in the fighting.” There was something dark in her tone, even cold, and for a moment she might have seemed much older than she was. “In any case, I think that you have nothing to be concerned about.” At least for now. If she looked out on the horizon, she could see an ominous twist of dark clouds lingering at the edge, metaphorically speaking – but Seraphina was a creature of logic, and she was reasonably confident that, in the end, reason would win the day. Regardless of matters with Rostislav, she knew that Reichenbach was no fool. He wouldn’t plunge his people into violence so easily.

She could only hope that Maxence was the same; she knew that he was well-acquainted with the memories of war, and he had to know that they were in no position to be picking fights, with their own nation barely stable.Though she still seemed to be looking at Florentine, her eyes found the stretch of star-filled sky that spanned out behind her, gaze momentarily indistinct and distant before she found the lavender-and-honey form of the other girl again. She considered a quiet admittance, wondering if it would make her sound more genuine - she wondered if she sounded as plasticine and empty as she felt like she did to begin with. I fought in the war, and I never want to do it again, I can’t get the images out of my head, most whatever I can do to keep it at bay I will-

She remained silent, waiting patiently for whatever the other Emissary might say next.

@

@Florentine - someday, I'll respond to things at a reasonable pace
s o m e d ay
(anyways, have a book on Day-Night drama, whoops)