☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
we begin in the dark
and birth is the death of us
Night drags her fingers along the distant curve of the horizon when a messenger informs Seraphina that one of her Ifrisol has arrived.
As she winds through darkened hallways, the torchlight casting odd shadows onto her metallic skin, she runs through a list of each of her agents in an effort to discern who might be awaiting her in the inner quarters of the palace. Only the head – the Songbird - was currently off-duty; all of the rest had assignments, which meant that either something had gone wrong and forced them to evacuate early or they had completed their objectives and required relocation. Either way, they had more than enough work to do in reserve.
She makes her way to the far tower, a shadow within her own palace; though easily-recognized, she is quick and quiet, and her coloration lends itself easily to the darkness. Cool night air wafts through the high, small windows situated haphazardly on each ascending floor, but, though it is less stifling than the heat of the Day, the dryness still tickles her throat. The clatter of her hooves against the sandstone stairs echoes behind her, the only sound to interrupt the quiet of the night, save for the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
She reaches the highest floor of the tower.
Inside, her eyes come to a rest upon the familiar form of Jahin. It is a dangerous thing, she thinks, to trust the Davke, after Avdotya - any Davke, or, more broadly, anyone. Yet here she stands with one among her Ifrisol, those that she must trust above all others to be her eyes and ears among the sands; any of them could so easily lead her astray. (Though, she supposes that is why she has more than one of them.) However, for the time being, Jahin has proven himself loyal to her cause, and, given how utterly unstable her reign has been thus far, she isn’t in a position to discriminate against capable help.
(And, she thinks, she still remembers him as he was during the rebellion – caged up in a dark, damp cell, left to rot by her predecessors. Seraphina didn’t spend much time in a cage as a girl, but she knew the stranglehold of captivity well; at the thought of it, the collar around her neck seems to tighten. She trusts him. For now. That will have to be enough.)
She regards him with her mismatched eyes – her stare is as cold and impassive as ever, though not uninviting. “Jahin,” She says, simply, and her voice is as clear and sharp as the ring of a bell. “Are you well?” He has a report to give her from his last assignment, or he’s come in search of a new one; this much she can guess. However, she has time enough for a moment’s pleasantries before they dive into work, and it is as important to know her own eyes as it is to discuss the work they have at hand.
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tags | @Jahin
notes | <3 <3 <3
we begin in the dark
and birth is the death of us
Night drags her fingers along the distant curve of the horizon when a messenger informs Seraphina that one of her Ifrisol has arrived.
As she winds through darkened hallways, the torchlight casting odd shadows onto her metallic skin, she runs through a list of each of her agents in an effort to discern who might be awaiting her in the inner quarters of the palace. Only the head – the Songbird - was currently off-duty; all of the rest had assignments, which meant that either something had gone wrong and forced them to evacuate early or they had completed their objectives and required relocation. Either way, they had more than enough work to do in reserve.
She makes her way to the far tower, a shadow within her own palace; though easily-recognized, she is quick and quiet, and her coloration lends itself easily to the darkness. Cool night air wafts through the high, small windows situated haphazardly on each ascending floor, but, though it is less stifling than the heat of the Day, the dryness still tickles her throat. The clatter of her hooves against the sandstone stairs echoes behind her, the only sound to interrupt the quiet of the night, save for the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
She reaches the highest floor of the tower.
Inside, her eyes come to a rest upon the familiar form of Jahin. It is a dangerous thing, she thinks, to trust the Davke, after Avdotya - any Davke, or, more broadly, anyone. Yet here she stands with one among her Ifrisol, those that she must trust above all others to be her eyes and ears among the sands; any of them could so easily lead her astray. (Though, she supposes that is why she has more than one of them.) However, for the time being, Jahin has proven himself loyal to her cause, and, given how utterly unstable her reign has been thus far, she isn’t in a position to discriminate against capable help.
(And, she thinks, she still remembers him as he was during the rebellion – caged up in a dark, damp cell, left to rot by her predecessors. Seraphina didn’t spend much time in a cage as a girl, but she knew the stranglehold of captivity well; at the thought of it, the collar around her neck seems to tighten. She trusts him. For now. That will have to be enough.)
She regards him with her mismatched eyes – her stare is as cold and impassive as ever, though not uninviting. “Jahin,” She says, simply, and her voice is as clear and sharp as the ring of a bell. “Are you well?” He has a report to give her from his last assignment, or he’s come in search of a new one; this much she can guess. However, she has time enough for a moment’s pleasantries before they dive into work, and it is as important to know her own eyes as it is to discuss the work they have at hand.
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tags | @Jahin
notes | <3 <3 <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
