Israfel
It was alarmingly easy to get lost or turned around in the twisting halls of the citadel, but it was proving to serve as the best form of distraction for the Daughter of the Sun. Israfel found her heart heavy, aching terribly from the loss and confusion that seemed to naturally come with rebirth.
Wait. No, that wasn't right. There was nothing natural or normal about rebirth, about coming back from the dead, and the gilded maiden was struggling to accept and come to terms with that. So many questions that lacked informative answers, and she hated it, but instead of wallowing in self-pity or drowning in melancholy as she would have once done in her life from before, Israfel had begun to act. When darkness crippled her, making golden hued limbs heavy and her pale breast ache with ennui and despair, she roamed. She flew. She ran, anything to get blood pumping furiously within an alpine, lean body to prove, to remind that she was still breathing. That she was still alive, the echoes of her own blood rushing through dainty ears and the furious beat of her heart against the cage of her chest.
Death had not won. The Reaper was no victor. She, brazen, blazing, proud, remained standing, a roaring flame amidst a storm... And Israfel was stubborn, determined, undaunted. She would not waste her second chance at redemption. She would rise, and dare the world to try and stop her.
Those thoughts, a myriad repetition, a litany of swears and promises, were her only companion as she traversed the halls of the Dusk citadel. She roamed the halls, a ghost of milk and honey, ducking in rooms and glancing about with fierce vermilion eyes, before moving on, wandering, learning. If this was to be her home, she yearned to serve it to the best of her abilities, and it was best to begin in small steps. Learn the layout of the land, and go from there. Already was she intimate with the rocky scrags of the cliff side where Morozko had greeted her, but there was still so much more.
Finding her way onto a terrace, the wind a soothing caress against the Sun Daughter's feminine features, Israfel was quick to realize that she was not alone. For a moment she considered moving on, fiery vermilion eyes locked on the golden buckskin young man leaning against the stone balustrade and seeming lost within the magnificent view provided to them, and slowly her gaze trailed outwards, following his own and admiring the vast fields and the looming ocean in the distance.
"... Quite the view, isn't it?" Israfel asked at last, golden, cloven hooves guiding her close to the balustrade, feathers rippling along her sides, chin held high and proud. Not haughty. Not superior. Simply proud. Fiery orange eyes glanced sidelong at the stranger, watching him, curious, before focusing once more on the horizon. "Positively breathtaking."
Wait. No, that wasn't right. There was nothing natural or normal about rebirth, about coming back from the dead, and the gilded maiden was struggling to accept and come to terms with that. So many questions that lacked informative answers, and she hated it, but instead of wallowing in self-pity or drowning in melancholy as she would have once done in her life from before, Israfel had begun to act. When darkness crippled her, making golden hued limbs heavy and her pale breast ache with ennui and despair, she roamed. She flew. She ran, anything to get blood pumping furiously within an alpine, lean body to prove, to remind that she was still breathing. That she was still alive, the echoes of her own blood rushing through dainty ears and the furious beat of her heart against the cage of her chest.
Death had not won. The Reaper was no victor. She, brazen, blazing, proud, remained standing, a roaring flame amidst a storm... And Israfel was stubborn, determined, undaunted. She would not waste her second chance at redemption. She would rise, and dare the world to try and stop her.
Those thoughts, a myriad repetition, a litany of swears and promises, were her only companion as she traversed the halls of the Dusk citadel. She roamed the halls, a ghost of milk and honey, ducking in rooms and glancing about with fierce vermilion eyes, before moving on, wandering, learning. If this was to be her home, she yearned to serve it to the best of her abilities, and it was best to begin in small steps. Learn the layout of the land, and go from there. Already was she intimate with the rocky scrags of the cliff side where Morozko had greeted her, but there was still so much more.
Finding her way onto a terrace, the wind a soothing caress against the Sun Daughter's feminine features, Israfel was quick to realize that she was not alone. For a moment she considered moving on, fiery vermilion eyes locked on the golden buckskin young man leaning against the stone balustrade and seeming lost within the magnificent view provided to them, and slowly her gaze trailed outwards, following his own and admiring the vast fields and the looming ocean in the distance.
"... Quite the view, isn't it?" Israfel asked at last, golden, cloven hooves guiding her close to the balustrade, feathers rippling along her sides, chin held high and proud. Not haughty. Not superior. Simply proud. Fiery orange eyes glanced sidelong at the stranger, watching him, curious, before focusing once more on the horizon. "Positively breathtaking."
@Finnian <3
