☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
His somewhat dismissive behavior is hardly lost on her, but Seraphina cannot bring herself to care about it. “Far from here. I believe I crossed a continent to get here.” She always has a hard time wrapping her mind around the concept of travelers from other lands. Perhaps it is simply her own attachment to Solterra that makes leaving one’s homeland sound so unreasonable to her, for she genuinely enjoys travelling; it is the idea of traveling so far that you never return to where you came from, or the idea of never wanting to return to your homeland, that strikes her as so terribly foreign. In the absence of any real response to his nonanswer, she offers a stiff nod.
He agrees to let her guide him back, and, for a moment, she thinks that, in spite of their rather tense discussion, this has gone smoothly enough.
Of course, nothing in her life ever seems to go smoothly – that is when the sandwyrm appears.
And, of course, he doesn’t listen to her advice; of course, he moves. Of course, the damnable creature senses his motion, and then…
“Goddamnit,” she mutters, under her breath, and lurches into motion.
There is no outrunning a sandwyrm, not really - the best they can hope for is to get it out of the sand, where it is somewhat less dangerous. Now that it’s on their tail, they’ll have to kill it somehow; at least her impromptu travelling companion has a pair of horns. (She just hopes that he knows how to use them.) The sandwyrm has slipped beneath the sand again, in hot pursuit, but, with a rudimentary, panicked glance over her shoulder, she can see where it darts after them, a slithering ridge on the crest of the dunes.
The serpent can’t attack both of them at once, she knows, and she’s somewhat more accustomed to dealing with them than her companion. She stifles a frustrated groan, and, abruptly, veers off to the left with a sharp kick to the sand, with a shout of, “It’s a juvenile sandwyrm – no point in trying to outrun it!”
The sandwyrm follows her movement, attracted by the spray of sand she pointedly kicked up in her wake. Abruptly, she lurches to a halt, and it lunges out of the sand after her; she narrowly manages to leap out of the way of a facefull of fangs, rearing back in an attempt to keep the snake back with the threat of her hooves. It lets out an outraged hiss.
It bobs and sways in front of her, hissing; waiting for the right moment to strike. Tension curls up in her spine.
She hopes that this El Toro isn’t afraid of a fight; the last thing she needs is to wind up dead in the middle of the Mors, particularly when she went to the trouble of distracting the snake. With any luck, he’ll take advantage of the fact that it has its back turned to him…
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tags | @El Toro
notes | many a moon later, have some more s n e k (ft. an exasperated Seraphina)
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
His somewhat dismissive behavior is hardly lost on her, but Seraphina cannot bring herself to care about it. “Far from here. I believe I crossed a continent to get here.” She always has a hard time wrapping her mind around the concept of travelers from other lands. Perhaps it is simply her own attachment to Solterra that makes leaving one’s homeland sound so unreasonable to her, for she genuinely enjoys travelling; it is the idea of traveling so far that you never return to where you came from, or the idea of never wanting to return to your homeland, that strikes her as so terribly foreign. In the absence of any real response to his nonanswer, she offers a stiff nod.
He agrees to let her guide him back, and, for a moment, she thinks that, in spite of their rather tense discussion, this has gone smoothly enough.
Of course, nothing in her life ever seems to go smoothly – that is when the sandwyrm appears.
And, of course, he doesn’t listen to her advice; of course, he moves. Of course, the damnable creature senses his motion, and then…
“Goddamnit,” she mutters, under her breath, and lurches into motion.
There is no outrunning a sandwyrm, not really - the best they can hope for is to get it out of the sand, where it is somewhat less dangerous. Now that it’s on their tail, they’ll have to kill it somehow; at least her impromptu travelling companion has a pair of horns. (She just hopes that he knows how to use them.) The sandwyrm has slipped beneath the sand again, in hot pursuit, but, with a rudimentary, panicked glance over her shoulder, she can see where it darts after them, a slithering ridge on the crest of the dunes.
The serpent can’t attack both of them at once, she knows, and she’s somewhat more accustomed to dealing with them than her companion. She stifles a frustrated groan, and, abruptly, veers off to the left with a sharp kick to the sand, with a shout of, “It’s a juvenile sandwyrm – no point in trying to outrun it!”
The sandwyrm follows her movement, attracted by the spray of sand she pointedly kicked up in her wake. Abruptly, she lurches to a halt, and it lunges out of the sand after her; she narrowly manages to leap out of the way of a facefull of fangs, rearing back in an attempt to keep the snake back with the threat of her hooves. It lets out an outraged hiss.
It bobs and sways in front of her, hissing; waiting for the right moment to strike. Tension curls up in her spine.
She hopes that this El Toro isn’t afraid of a fight; the last thing she needs is to wind up dead in the middle of the Mors, particularly when she went to the trouble of distracting the snake. With any luck, he’ll take advantage of the fact that it has its back turned to him…
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tags | @El Toro
notes | many a moon later, have some more s n e k (ft. an exasperated Seraphina)
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
