☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
Seraphina strained against the serpent, focusing all her attention on locking her jaws and holding her position; she was just beginning to slip when El Toro struck the beast, the serpent beginning to slip from her grasp, its great head turning, turning, turning as it writhed…and, in her mind’s eye, she could see it closed around her throat like a steel trap.
But then Toro was beneath the serpent, stabbing it in the throat with a great, sharp horn. The sandwyrm lets out a strangled hiss, flailing loosely, and pours gore out onto the sand in great, clumpy streams of violent red; Toro, coated in shades of red himself, only barely manages to scamper out from beneath the snake before it falls into the sand with a harsh slap and a spray of sand. He immediately ran to her, panting, and, with more concern than she had anticipated, asked, “Are you alright?”
She glanced at him, and then at the corpse of the dead sandwyrm, and dipped her head. “A few scratches – I’ll be fine,” she responded, a note of gratitude entering her tone. Seraphina was not at all accustomed to being asked if she is alright, even after a battle; the first time had been just before she had become Solterra’s Emissary, when Maxence called out for her when she was flung aside by the teryr, and she could remember each individual time it had happened since. A strange rarity, in a land so marked by violence, but a precious one, she thought. “What about you?” Her head tilted, eyes flickering across his blood-soaked frame; from what she could see, most of it seemed to have come from the sandwyrm.
It occurred to her, as her gaze darted momentarily to the dead serpent, that they – that he - had killed a sandwyrm; Seraphina decided that he was more impressive than she’d initially assumed. “You’re proper Solterran now, you know,” she said, a glint of something fierce and sharp – perhaps pride - in her strange eyes. (A ghostly hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips, barely perceptible.) “Killing a sandwyrm – that will certainly gain you a bit of respect in the capitol. Our people consider them sacred to Solis…hunting one is a great honor.” She nodded, casting her gaze out into the distance – towards the city. “Come on. I’ll take you back; best not to linger around a corpse in the Mors.”
She turns, a flash of slick silver gleaming with sweat, and begins the trek towards the capitol.
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tags | @El Toro
notes | sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss(ssssssssssss), but, like, in a dead way - anyways, finishing this up ;D they shall meet again very soon.
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
Seraphina strained against the serpent, focusing all her attention on locking her jaws and holding her position; she was just beginning to slip when El Toro struck the beast, the serpent beginning to slip from her grasp, its great head turning, turning, turning as it writhed…and, in her mind’s eye, she could see it closed around her throat like a steel trap.
But then Toro was beneath the serpent, stabbing it in the throat with a great, sharp horn. The sandwyrm lets out a strangled hiss, flailing loosely, and pours gore out onto the sand in great, clumpy streams of violent red; Toro, coated in shades of red himself, only barely manages to scamper out from beneath the snake before it falls into the sand with a harsh slap and a spray of sand. He immediately ran to her, panting, and, with more concern than she had anticipated, asked, “Are you alright?”
She glanced at him, and then at the corpse of the dead sandwyrm, and dipped her head. “A few scratches – I’ll be fine,” she responded, a note of gratitude entering her tone. Seraphina was not at all accustomed to being asked if she is alright, even after a battle; the first time had been just before she had become Solterra’s Emissary, when Maxence called out for her when she was flung aside by the teryr, and she could remember each individual time it had happened since. A strange rarity, in a land so marked by violence, but a precious one, she thought. “What about you?” Her head tilted, eyes flickering across his blood-soaked frame; from what she could see, most of it seemed to have come from the sandwyrm.
It occurred to her, as her gaze darted momentarily to the dead serpent, that they – that he - had killed a sandwyrm; Seraphina decided that he was more impressive than she’d initially assumed. “You’re proper Solterran now, you know,” she said, a glint of something fierce and sharp – perhaps pride - in her strange eyes. (A ghostly hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips, barely perceptible.) “Killing a sandwyrm – that will certainly gain you a bit of respect in the capitol. Our people consider them sacred to Solis…hunting one is a great honor.” She nodded, casting her gaze out into the distance – towards the city. “Come on. I’ll take you back; best not to linger around a corpse in the Mors.”
She turns, a flash of slick silver gleaming with sweat, and begins the trek towards the capitol.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @El Toro
notes | sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss(ssssssssssss), but, like, in a dead way - anyways, finishing this up ;D they shall meet again very soon.
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
