The stone skeleton houses a writhing sea of bodies. More and more pour in through the ancient walls decorated thick flora that is expertly cared for. There is no doubt as to who is responsible for these plants. Someone who feels such anger when the forests are thrust to the fire for the sake of a gathering. It is the one who she now must serve as Sovereign. She is inevitable. Everythign about her since their first encounter has been this way. From Meira's first strings of mistakes, to the fact she sits on the guard. Danaë. Meira watches from high on one of the many overhangs strewn with sickly sweet bursting flowers sewn lovingly into the thick green vines along the bannister. She peers down at the masses as they gather without mirth. The former Sovereign has left for Solterra; she has half a mind to join him. If it were not for the memory and the sting of rejection she still feels in her bones. Meira watches and listens as the voices swell in time with the haunting music that echoes down the halls. She is here as much for the coronation as she is to protect the members of Delumine.

There is a mournful atmosphere in the familiar stone structure she serves daily. The familiar halls weep for their king. They weep for his absence, as much as they weep tears of joy for what this may mean for Solterra. It is true, so true that Oriens is the brother of Solis. It is why she has been drawn to Delumine in the first place. She wants to love Delumine as she loves Solterra. Love Oriens as she loves Solis. Even their kings and queens. Meira is not made of love. It is a foreign, sticky substance that roots itself into the very essence of all beings in Novus. Just as magic does. An element she resents with every fiber of her being. Restless at the thought that she must protect these mages, for Danaë is one of them. She cannot speak against her. Danaë is inevitable and intoxicating. She is capable. Far more than Meira knows she will ever be.

Then there is the matter of Isolt. A warning that she cannot shake from her mind. When she last spoke with Danaë, she could not deny the promise of their encounter someday. Meira sighs softly into the flowers and they spill their pollen upon her lips in response. For once she does not smell like the sea that she truly loves. One day she will return to the sea as she is meant to. All Roannes do. She is a monster that has been muzzled and bound by the earth. They will know soon enough.

She is hungry. So hungry. She would trade mirth and melancholy for blood any day. Meira sweeps herself down into the dark corridor that will take her deeper into the castle she protects as a soldier of Delumine.

@Isolt
Sorry this is just a bunch of rambling a;fj