She didn’t know why she hadn’t started her travels here.
What location would be better for her search for a divine relic than their most sacred locale? Seraphina strode up the well-worn paths that riddled the mountainside, occasionally sparing a glance to the ground below. This land was almost as familiar to her as the deserts of Solterra; Viceroy was nothing if not godly, and he had brought her up the mountain many times when she was younger. She still frequented the mountains, although she’d never had the luck of encountering anything particularly divine. Seraphina was not a peaceful creature – she’d given up on finding it years ago. However, cradled by quiet and divinity, undisturbed by the world below, she could almost feel as though she found something that she had always, always, always been searching for whenever she climbed the peak. It was very strange, but, in places like this, it was very easy to forget herself, or perhaps find herself – beneath all of the blood and violence, all of the apathy.
It was simpler. Everything was simpler when you were in the eyes of the divine.
The faint sound of a voice, so quiet that she couldn’t make out the words, dragged her gaze from the landscape. She barely caught the shape of what seemed to be a white horse descending into the darkness of a cave before it disappeared into darkness, though, if she squinted, she could still make out a difference in shade. Seraphina was not especially inclined towards socialization, but, on the off chance that this was another relic hunter, – though it could very easily be a worshipper, she thought – she felt obligated to make sure that the pale horse didn’t disturb this place. Allowing a somewhat reluctant sigh to escape her lips, she turned off her path to approach the cave. Standing just outside of it, she could smell the must and mildew, see the glimmer of water droplets clinging like tiny jewels to the paint-stained walls; the mare was hunched down, fiddling with the ground with her hooves.
“I would not recommend toying with this place,” Came her voice as she stepped into the cave, an apathetic drawl thickly accented with Day. “This land is sacred, meant for worship.” She eyed the pale mare with something akin to thinly-veiled suspicion, odd eyes glinting in the faint light. She was delicate, slender, effeminate - likely not a threat, unless she were far more dangerous than she looked. “Are you searching for something?” It seemed as though she were trying to get a better look at the markings on the wall…
@WeirWhat location would be better for her search for a divine relic than their most sacred locale? Seraphina strode up the well-worn paths that riddled the mountainside, occasionally sparing a glance to the ground below. This land was almost as familiar to her as the deserts of Solterra; Viceroy was nothing if not godly, and he had brought her up the mountain many times when she was younger. She still frequented the mountains, although she’d never had the luck of encountering anything particularly divine. Seraphina was not a peaceful creature – she’d given up on finding it years ago. However, cradled by quiet and divinity, undisturbed by the world below, she could almost feel as though she found something that she had always, always, always been searching for whenever she climbed the peak. It was very strange, but, in places like this, it was very easy to forget herself, or perhaps find herself – beneath all of the blood and violence, all of the apathy.
It was simpler. Everything was simpler when you were in the eyes of the divine.
The faint sound of a voice, so quiet that she couldn’t make out the words, dragged her gaze from the landscape. She barely caught the shape of what seemed to be a white horse descending into the darkness of a cave before it disappeared into darkness, though, if she squinted, she could still make out a difference in shade. Seraphina was not especially inclined towards socialization, but, on the off chance that this was another relic hunter, – though it could very easily be a worshipper, she thought – she felt obligated to make sure that the pale horse didn’t disturb this place. Allowing a somewhat reluctant sigh to escape her lips, she turned off her path to approach the cave. Standing just outside of it, she could smell the must and mildew, see the glimmer of water droplets clinging like tiny jewels to the paint-stained walls; the mare was hunched down, fiddling with the ground with her hooves.
“I would not recommend toying with this place,” Came her voice as she stepped into the cave, an apathetic drawl thickly accented with Day. “This land is sacred, meant for worship.” She eyed the pale mare with something akin to thinly-veiled suspicion, odd eyes glinting in the faint light. She was delicate, slender, effeminate - likely not a threat, unless she were far more dangerous than she looked. “Are you searching for something?” It seemed as though she were trying to get a better look at the markings on the wall…
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
