Private snakebite - Printable Version

DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO PATRIA MORI

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Evening had fallen upon the Day Court.

It was still choking hot, and she imagined that it would be for some time – the nights were cool, and the evenings were less suffocating than the day, but they were far from pleasant, even indoors. Seraphina stared out the broken windows of the throne room, past the ramparts and towards the unforgiving expanse of the Mors; she felt a small, immediate pang for the simplicity of warm sands and wide-open spaces, after a long day listening to various grievances and scouring over blueprints, but she still had work to do, tempers to soothe.

(When didn’t she have work to do, though? It was, at least in part, a self-inflicted disease; her rare moments of idleness were generally spent finding more work for herself to do. There were a number of things that Seraphina disliked, but idleness was relatively high on the list.)

A part of her bristled at the implication that this decision was really for peace; as far as she was concerned, her warden had won a fight, and there was no crime in that. (Distasteful as his behavior apparently was, she understood that it was not attempted murder, and, in her mind’s eye, she sees Bexley Briar, trapped beneath stone.) She didn’t want a peace that meant rolling over on her back and showing her stomach, leashed and desperate as she might be from the restraints placed upon Day by the Davke attack. Oh no. The thought had crossed her mind immediately, in the aftermath – indifference was a crime, too, though one of a different sort, and Avdotya’s betrayal had bred in her some desperate need for loyalty among her advisors beside. Perhaps loyalty was the wrong word, however. Agreement was irrelevant. Dedication was valued, to her nation and her people.

It was with that in mind that she strode across the room and towards the great double doors that spilled open into the castle. A pair of guards stood watch by the door, and even more patrolled the halls, seen or otherwise. She knew the one on the left. “Mairi,” She said, softly, head turning to regard the guard momentarily, “bring the warden.” Gods knew how long that would take; the incident with Aislinn had proved nothing if not that she had very little idea of her warden’s movements. Mairi nodded, and then was off; she did not turn to watch her go. Rather, she moved back into the room, doors still flung wide open behind her. Her eyes darted back to the windows. Was the great expanse of desert outside still her homeland? Only a year ago, she would have said yes without hesitation. Now, she was all the less certain that she had ever been home there at all. (But, she supposed, that was not the sort of thing that one chose.)

(Regardless – she would protect it with blood and bone and breath. Nothing else had ever mattered; nothing else ever would.)

She waited amicably, her eyes trained on rolling dunes that marked the distant horizon.

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tags | @Torstein
notes | finally. I have been working on this post for weeks. >> no rush at all with this, of course - I know you're still dealing with a lot, and it's not like I'm going to be around as much anyways. (or that this isn't already ridiculously late.)