☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
I have burned & burned, but is it burning
if there’s no one there to see?
She is a smudge of charcoal beneath the trees. The former Crow is not the only shadow given life; the Day Queen is dark and slow beneath the dappled light, each steady pace deliberate. The moonlight steals the color from the landscape, but she is already monochromatic, crafted from polished steel. She knows what she is here for – she knows what she has to do.
She faces Raum coldly, her eyes impassive and unimpressed. If she could hear his thoughts, she might have laughed. Fool boy. Always quick to blame the other. Never mind that he is older than her. You did this to yourself. I should have killed you long ago. For what you did, I never should have shown you lenience. That is something that she is learning, like all lessons, slowly and bitterly. She was a girl when he attacked Bexley; she was a girl when she found Rhoswen and that soft, small girl, still bathed in the ashes of her kingdom; was she still a girl now?
“You want the power,” she says, softly. “Do you know what it means?”
Her life belongs to her court. It always has – there has never been anything else. For her quiet and her distance, for her innumerable failures and missteps, she would give anything - anything - for the sake of the Day Court’s people. As she watches him, her mismatched eyes narrowed to bright, reflective shards, she knows that what he wants is not the same. Perhaps once she could have had sympathy for a broken bird, abandoned by his flock. Perhaps once, she could have pitied an orphan boy taken in by a wild-hearted man with too much love to give and too many people to give it to; perhaps she could have ached for a boy raised up from nothing and trained to kill.
When she sees him, however, she sees little more than a murderous madman grasping for the capacity to crush - for armies and followers and respect, for blood. He has no love for her court, and he has no love for her people; if anything, he resents them. She has seen her people bent-double beneath the weight of a tyrant before.
She’d sooner die than watch it happen again.
She does not wait for his answer. For better or for worse, she will be able to discern it for herself soon enough.
When she had crept forward to approach him, she mapped the pocks and divots in the hard, rugged terrain that surrounded them; her spar with Ammon, lifetimes ago, taught her the danger of slipping. She outlines the details of his frame. He is lean and limber, built for speed and stealth, but he is a shape-shifter, in some capacity, and she supposes he might be able to use his supposed face-changing to change that – or to change her perception of him. Crows had knives, but he is blessedly unarmed, and that is one less thing for her to worry over.
She is still in one moment and springs into motion in the next, ears snapping back against her skull. It takes only seconds to close the gap between them and only seconds to rise up on her well-muscled hindquarters, charcoal hooves aimed to batter him. She seeks to slash at his chest and his throat, to pummel whatever bit of flesh stumbles into her pounding reach – she wants bruise and blood, and, even in her wanting, she is measured.
She has no time to panic at what is to come.
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tags |
notes | I <3 you
I have burned & burned, but is it burning
if there’s no one there to see?
She is a smudge of charcoal beneath the trees. The former Crow is not the only shadow given life; the Day Queen is dark and slow beneath the dappled light, each steady pace deliberate. The moonlight steals the color from the landscape, but she is already monochromatic, crafted from polished steel. She knows what she is here for – she knows what she has to do.
She faces Raum coldly, her eyes impassive and unimpressed. If she could hear his thoughts, she might have laughed. Fool boy. Always quick to blame the other. Never mind that he is older than her. You did this to yourself. I should have killed you long ago. For what you did, I never should have shown you lenience. That is something that she is learning, like all lessons, slowly and bitterly. She was a girl when he attacked Bexley; she was a girl when she found Rhoswen and that soft, small girl, still bathed in the ashes of her kingdom; was she still a girl now?
“You want the power,” she says, softly. “Do you know what it means?”
Her life belongs to her court. It always has – there has never been anything else. For her quiet and her distance, for her innumerable failures and missteps, she would give anything - anything - for the sake of the Day Court’s people. As she watches him, her mismatched eyes narrowed to bright, reflective shards, she knows that what he wants is not the same. Perhaps once she could have had sympathy for a broken bird, abandoned by his flock. Perhaps once, she could have pitied an orphan boy taken in by a wild-hearted man with too much love to give and too many people to give it to; perhaps she could have ached for a boy raised up from nothing and trained to kill.
When she sees him, however, she sees little more than a murderous madman grasping for the capacity to crush - for armies and followers and respect, for blood. He has no love for her court, and he has no love for her people; if anything, he resents them. She has seen her people bent-double beneath the weight of a tyrant before.
She’d sooner die than watch it happen again.
She does not wait for his answer. For better or for worse, she will be able to discern it for herself soon enough.
When she had crept forward to approach him, she mapped the pocks and divots in the hard, rugged terrain that surrounded them; her spar with Ammon, lifetimes ago, taught her the danger of slipping. She outlines the details of his frame. He is lean and limber, built for speed and stealth, but he is a shape-shifter, in some capacity, and she supposes he might be able to use his supposed face-changing to change that – or to change her perception of him. Crows had knives, but he is blessedly unarmed, and that is one less thing for her to worry over.
She is still in one moment and springs into motion in the next, ears snapping back against her skull. It takes only seconds to close the gap between them and only seconds to rise up on her well-muscled hindquarters, charcoal hooves aimed to batter him. She seeks to slash at his chest and his throat, to pummel whatever bit of flesh stumbles into her pounding reach – she wants bruise and blood, and, even in her wanting, she is measured.
She has no time to panic at what is to come.
----------------------------------------------------------
tags |
notes | I <3 you
Summary: Sera shows up, contemplates life, Raum, and her really questionable decision-making process. She then proceeds to charge at Raum, rear, and tries to assail his chest/neck with her hooves, aimed to scratch and bruise.
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: N/A
Response Deadline: 2/1
Tags: @Raum, @Sid, @inkbone, @Sparrow, @nestle, @
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
