Shards of colored light glared down from the stained-glass window on the far side of the throne room, leaving the dull sandstone cast in broken fragments of color. It was there that Seraphina stood, engulfed in suffocating silence, with her eyes cast up to examine the curling iron frames that encircled the glass. She traced the golden silhouette of Solis with her gaze, luminous even among the vivid colors of the window; she felt as though she should be praying, but no words came to mind, no devout whisperings to ease her thoughts. Strange as it felt, it had been months since Seraphina had found herself facing death – not since Viceroy. She couldn’t say that it was chilling, considering how many times she had seen death before, but it was sudden, a frank reminder of just how quickly life could be stolen away in the harsh deserts of Solterra. The desert claimed whatever it desired, and its people were left to pick up what remained. If nothing else, it grew survivalists.
She stepped closer to the window, letting the soft light wash over her. She had brushed blood and sand free of her coat from the fight with the teryr earlier in the day, though the narrow gashes that the runt had managed to leave in her sides still stung like fire in her veins, a constant reminder of events she would prefer to forget, even if only for a moment. (When she closed her eyes she was blinded by sunlight, only interrupted by the dark, disappearing form of the teryr.) Seraphina told herself that there wasn’t time to focus on the fight, only the results, where they would go from here.
The wind hummed through the ancient corridors, a ghostly, dry whisper at the back of her mind. Her thoughts returned to more immediate – and concrete – matters. The Day Court had only just begun to recover from the gashes left by Zolin; they couldn’t go without a sovereign for so long again, even with a dedicated group of champions and two-thirds of the regime remaining. Seraphina suspected that Avdotya would step up after Maxence, but she hadn’t immediately announced her claim; it might have been a matter of timing, but somehow Seraphina had the impression that she wasn’t interested in the position. Capable and efficient as she was as Reagent, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Avdotya didn’t enjoy it. She shook those thoughts off, however. Speculation was meaningless until she had a chance to speak with the serpent herself.
She waited for Avdotya to arrive, her eyes never leaving the sun god.
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
11-04-2017, 07:18 PM - This post was last modified: 11-07-2017, 11:46 AM by Seraphina
Solterra's sandstone fortress loomed heavy over the horizon, its hard edges distorted by Solis' searing midday heat. There was something off in the foul twist of her stomach when she saw it; true, Avdotya had never been an admirer of the regime (in spite of having made herself a part of it), but now she had a whole new reason to harbour foul feelings toward the Court of Sun itself. Maxence's presumed death was one that presented the mare with more difficulty than most. Unlike the many who had died before him, her memory of the man refused to leave her conscious mind. A small shred of him lingered there, and her inability to simply erase him led to a burning twinge of frustration. He was reckless, he acted out unprovoked and therefore risked the well-being of the nation itself... why, then, was his death so different?
Avdotya chose not to dwell on her thoughts much longer. There were important matters that needed attending to, but even they warranted a sour taste on her tongue. The more she involved herself in Novus' political field, the more she yearned for her freedom; to be chained to responsibility and even accountability was no life for a Davke, regardless of the power that came with it. She was capable of her own clout in other ways, and that was what she sought deep down in her vicious heart.
Her path had been set. Whether she was ready to set hoof down it quite yet would be determined sooner or later.
Now, as she entered the palace's grand throne room, the viper bore down on Solterra's Emmissary. "I will not waste my time dancing around this subject," she stated bluntly, "the court demands a new sovereign... and here we are, the two sole choices." Her voice was low, naturally threatening, but it was deceiving. Avdotya wanted no part of the throne that called to her as Regent.
She paused, letting the hot air sit heavily between them as she drew closer. When she stopped within reach of Seraphina, her fiery eyes drank in the sight of the empty throne beside them. Temptation reached its wispy arms towards her, enticing her, calling her. It was there for her to take, but to claim it would be an insult to her family. "I will wear no crown upon my head." Avdotya finally said, looking the Emissary in her two-toned eyes. "It is yours to take if you so desire." The silvery mare was a capable leader, more capable than Maxence had been in her own opinion. Solterra's future rested in strong hands, should Seraphina accept her ascension.
@Seraphina av kicked the elephant outta the room real fast hehehe
The sound of motion – the clack of hooves against sandstone – finally drew the silver mare’s gaze from the glowing shape of Solis. Avdotya drew free of the murky darkness behind her, sinuous charcoal shape emerging from the shadows of the hall like a snake from water. (Somehow, Seraphina imagined that she would still move freer among the dunes; then again, most of the court – or those born within it, at least – seemed to share that quality. The desert afforded freedoms that the ancient sandstone walls of the fortress, weathered and heavy with duty and expectations, never would.) She shifted to face the other mare, seeking out her burning eyes with her own. A part of Seraphina wondered how the warrior woman felt in the wake of Maxence’s death, if it disconcerted Avdotya like it did her. (Perhaps, she thought for a moment, she had begun to think of the stallion as a friend…or at least an ally. She pushed those thoughts aside quickly. Even if she had, they would do her no good now.) Mourning was hardly in her nature, and it seemed to be even less in that of the venomous creature who stood before her, blunt and stark as the grave.
The Reagent wasted no time on niceties, for which the Emissary was quietly grateful. Avdotya’s voice came sharp and quick, like the crack of a whip; there was always a threat within it, she thought, but Solterra did not breed a gentle touch. The two sole choices. She imagined from the mare’s tone that she intended to take the throne herself, and, with a viable candidate in line before her, Seraphina hadn’t even considered herself in the running. Even with that knowledge, she found herself contemplating, for a moment, her own position. Could she see herself a sovereign? Seraphina was unaccustomed to seeing herself as anything – her life was void of ambition, a perpetual follower. (She wasn’t even sure if she had ever really, truly desired anything before. She wasn’t sure that she would know what desire was if she felt it.) Even so…even so, she couldn’t help but wonder at the thought. As Avdotya turned her eyes to the throne, Seraphina followed, her eyes lingering momentarily on the empty space – then on the shape of the sun god – before they found their way back to Avdotya. Surely, Seraphina thought, she meant to ascend to sovereignty herself. Surely, she thought, surely…
The viper’s next words caught her off guard.
Avdotya, it seemed, held no ambitions for the throne; rather, she yielded it to Seraphina. She turned her gaze from the burning, violent eyes of Avdotya to find Solis again. Seraphina had never cared much for the concept of fate; in a life such as her own, it was irrelevant. However…she knew, knew that everything that happened in the untamed deserts of Solterra occurred because Solis willed it so. (Perhaps that was why she did not mourn for Maxence. Solis had collected him, and gifted him a warrior’s demise. Whatever happened after the black came creeping in, he was in the hands of her - their - gods now.) Her eyes drifted back to Avdotya, then. “Very well,” She said, simply, “I accept the crown.” She considered, for a second, how the people of Solterra would take her ascent, but she did not linger on it yet; she had other matters to consider. “Will you remain as reagent?” Privately, she hoped so, in spite of her dry, cool tones. Avdotya was efficient, pragmatic, and ruthless – she would be difficult to replace.
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
Seraphina did not hesitate to stake her claim and pull Solterra’s future into her own hooves. Of those Avdotya knew in the Court, the silver woman was perhaps the wisest option; as they had witnessed at the time of Maxence’s demise, some were far too quick of temper to hold such a title. Even so, her own interests in the nation’s well-being were dwindling and whether or not the next sovereign was suitable mattered little to the mare now. Soon enough, her existence in these halls would be but a mere memory.
For now, Avdotya wordlessly acknowledged Seraphina’s newfound title with a simple nod. It was the question that followed that drew her to speak again. ”I will.” While the viper had plans growing in the back of her mind, she held no intention of revealing them to the ascendant. She did, however, realize that she would need to speak with Velorca soon after this discussion. He was sure to be somewhere in the capitol…
”I presume you will attempt to stifle the winds of war blowing from Denocte?” Maxence had stirred plenty of dust in his brief time as sovereign, but it was Reichenbach’s feathers he had ruffled the most. The Night King was sure to have some form of retaliation in his books - that he hadn’t yet was a surprise even to Avdotya. Now though, with Seraphina at the helm (who seemed less than enthralled with Maxence’s actions in the past), perhaps change would soon be coming to the rival nations.
She felt a faint prickle of relief at the other mare’s nod, then a full rush of it at her affirmation; Seraphina wasn’t sure that these sandstone walls would keep Avdotya, particularly not for long, but she would be a valuable resource so long as she was at her side. She had seen the ways that the other Solterrans regarded the vicious desert viper, and she knew that Avdotya inspired a respect that she did not – not yet, at least.
She regarded the dark mare for a long moment, as though considering her words. “I know that Denocte has made moves to ally itself with Delumine,” She began, her tone cool as winter ice. “Florentine is now sovereign in Terrastella – we might have made moves to align ourselves with Dusk, but she is also Reichenbach’s lover. If conflict arises between our nations, I know whose side she will take. We are still strained for resources and for healers. I have no personal interest in dragging us into war, but, even if I did, I would recognize that it would be foolish to provoke Caligo’s children now.” Seraphina glanced at the gleaming shape of Solis, letting out a soft sigh. She suspected that the Night Court would desire some form of retribution for their stolen warden, and she could only hope that she could dissuade them of it.
(And then there was a possibility of a spy among the Solterrans, but she pushed that thought aside for the time being.)
“I will speak with Reichenbach. The sooner the better – perhaps we can put this behind us before any more trouble occurs.” The silver doubted that a friendly relationship with Caligo’s children was possible, after all their years of bad blood, but she would settle for an uneasy, and likely delicate, peace. It would be far better than the thinly-veiled aggression that permeated the courts now.
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
”How sad.” She nearly felt a hint of laughter tickle the back of her throat; Solterra’s alliance with Dusk jeopardized by the heart of a woman. Avdotya subtly shook her rigid head. ”Love has put many in grave places,” she said, her hot stare directed to the figure of Solis above them, ”that is something they will discover should the nations come to war.” It was a veiled threat between the two of them, one that would not leave the throne room they stood in. The woman’s fondness of political feuds was minimal at most, but her hatred for those of the Night sat deeper and she would not hesitate to defend her home against them. If Terrastella’s new love-struck queen were to suffer on Reichenbach’s behalf, Avdotya had no qualms.
Of course, she was also an intelligent woman. Seraphina’s mention of their lacking population of healers was an unfortunate truth, one that could spell disaster should conflict arrive at their door. ”Perhaps it is time some of us dabble in the healers’ books.” The mare commented idly. Some knowledge of medicine, even if it were minute, was better than none. She knew of some plants that were beneficial to festering wounds and persistent aches, although her upbringing required a greater degree of survival skills than those who grew up more… civilized.
Her ears fell flat at the idea of discussing a fragile peace with Denocte. A squalling nest of birds barely fostered a sense of trust in her mind, but it was the best of the very few options they had. ”I would offer my company in your visit to the Night Court, but I do not think they would take kindly to the presence of the woman who poisoned their drunkard of a Warden.” This time her chuckle could not be repressed.
@Seraphina av's thoughts on the world: everyone sux
At Avdotya’s remarks on Florentine – a thinly veiled threat, and a vote of confidence in their capabilities that Seraphina was not yet sure that she shared – Seraphina offered a slight dip of her head. “I suppose we’ll see, then,” She said, smoothly, “where this love goes. Between kings and queens, it can be just as catastrophic as sweet.” Love affairs between royalty that went smoothly meant prosperity for both nations, but those that ended in tears were just as quick to breed bitterness. What that would mean for the Crow King and the woman of honey and lavender had yet to be discerned.
Avdotya’s idle remark prompted, “Not even healers alone – we are a nation of warriors, but it would be to our advantage to invest in a variety of skillsets to bolster our resources.” They could keep working on the garden, of course…with a bit of patience and appropriately skilled workers, an irrigation system might even be possible. Her thoughts didn’t linger on that notion for long, however; thoughts of Night remained like a dark cloud, whisking away her focus on much anything else. “And, if we are to consider Denocte an threat, then we have to attempt to match that which they already have; force acts in our favor, but they are a nation of spies…” The paused deliberately, eyes narrowing. She hadn’t forgotten the spy that she was quite nearly positive lingered in Solterra; that was a threat that needed to be dealt with as immediately as possible. “…thieves, and assassins. It might be in our best interest to encourage some more subtle skills, in those who come by them naturally.” The idea of returning the favor was tempting.
A hint of amusement pricked at the corner of Seraphina’s lips at the dark mare’s description of Rostislav. “When you phrase it like that, I can hardly understand why Maxence would think him a threat.” That had been her stance from the beginning, though, and it was only confirmed by speaking with him; Rostislav knew nothing, and he was useless to them. (She didn’t have anything in particular against Rostislav, privately, she’d rather let Denocte have him anyways – Solterra had its fill of hot-headed warriors already, and the old drunk wasn’t much of an asset to her. If he'd been so easy to capture, better to leave him to Denocte’s notorious revelry.) She inclined her head thoughtfully, though, at the notion of going to Denocte; she recalled how poorly it went when Maxence had tried the same thing. “I won’t be so quick to walk into their clutches if I can meet Reichenbach on more even footing – I’ll speak to Florentine. Perhaps she could be something of a go-between and arrange a meeting.” She needed to speak to the young queen of Terrastella anyways, given the tentative relationship between their nations, and, if she could get Rostislav out of his nest of crows, so to speak, all the better.
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
Trust me, you are nothing but another weak animal minding the strongest whip
Anger, slightly tempered but still boiling hot in his veins, drove the Warden back towards the sands of the desert. Sweat soaked his hide, muddling with the dried blood and saltwater. He saw, remembered, each vivid moment - and it lit the fire under his hooves, carried him quicker over the long-stretch of continent that stood between the South of the Terminus Sea and Solterra.
It took him days, but he arrived back just in time to hear the news of Maxence's disappearance and presumed death. It did not shock him, truth be told. The stallion was destined to meet his maker one way or another, especially with how hot-headed he rolled into the Desert and began kicking up sand.
Some of that sand landed in the eyes of some less than savory characters, and it was this that drove Tor towards Solterra again.
Upon hoof touching sand, the first words that left his mouth were Where are Avdotya and Seraphina? No consolation given to the other Solterrans in regards to Maxence's death.. while it was tragic, he had far more important things to deal with.... things that were directly caused by that egotistical painted stallion.
When someone finally pointed him in the correct direction, Tor was quick to find the two. His steps had slowed, his muscles ached - but he had been worse off before. The rain that soaked him and Araxes at the Terminus sea had not been enough to wash off all of the blood that clung to his fur, leaving stains where the rivulets of blood ran down his crown and the crest of his neck. If the Warden could torture that stallion a million times over, he would - he enjoyed it.
"Seraphina, Avdotya," he called out to them as he approached, ears rolling uncharacteristically forward. "Pardon, but it's best we speak in private. I feel the matter might be urgent, given the circumstances."
And you had to admit, he was right. With Maxence's disappearance and presumed death, that left Solterra scrambling to adjust their ranks - an obvious weak point, should the other courts decide to take advantage of such. And so, Tor wasted no time in turning towards the direction he intended to head and speak in seclusion... stopping a little bit a ways away to look back over his shoulder towards both the newly appointed Sovereign (a fact he was unaware of, since he came in distinctly after their conversation) and the Regent.
From behind, stained onto his ivory fur, you could easily see where the bloody rivulets cascaded down his neck. There were rogue patches of dried, coagulated blood that he had not bothered brushing off.. and while the rain did a good job at washing away the thick layer of blood that had coated his horns, it was nowhere close to enough to wash out his mane. The only saving grace was how roached his mane was near the crest of his neck... the only part that truly suffered was his forelock, which was matted and stained. His face was eerily calm for someone who looked like they just ... well yeah, just murdered someone.
But perhaps more unsettling than the blood that stained his body and settled deep into the cracks within his hooves, was his demeanor. His rage was tempered, but present - seen by the settled line of his mouth, ears tightly pinned back to the crown of his head, emotion within eyes that were now equally matched in color by his fur.
The serpent remained mostly quiet with every base Seraphina touched upon. She nodded in silent agreement at many points, though her attention seemed to catch at the mention of Maxence. "Small men are quick to temper," she remarked softly, "Maxence was no exception." Her burning stare met the new queen's with a fluid sweep of her head, the depth of which being far more analytical than it may have appeared. Seraphina was not like their once-king; she did not bear the reactive personality he possessed, she was a thinker and superior tactician in comparison. They were traits the nation would surely prosper from... but she placed her trust - tentative as it may have been - in the wrong hands. It was a mistake Avdotya presumed she would not yet make again come the time of her realization, one the woman intended to take advantage of once given the opportunity.
That time would come...
Though it was not now. Their meeting was cut short by a sudden clatter of hooves upon stone and the red-stained body of none other than Torstein. Her brow raised at the sight of him, but whatever judgment she held for the stallion dissipated at the urgency with which he laced his words. In fact, the woman's interest seemed to have piqued.
With a passing glance towards Seraphina, Avdotya looked back to him and followed close behind as he passed. She traced the shrouds of red upon his hide with her eyes while they walked, pondering what fool thought it wise to piss off a hulking beast such as Torstein. A fan of his she was not, but the mare could not deny the power his great size could cultivate; it took strategy to take a creature like him down, not strength. Her thoughts, however, had digressed from the situation and she was quick to correct that once he'd led them to their destination. "What is it you know, Torstein?"
She offered no response to Avdotya’s comments of Maxence, save for a cool, composed gaze; whatever Seraphina was, she was not Maxence or, far worse, Zolin, and perhaps that thought brought with it some comfort. (The lurch in her stomach, however, when she thought of the power she had just attained left her uneasy – or perhaps it was something in Avdotya’s stare. She didn’t know of the fire that she played with, nor did she know what a fool she was for placing her trust in the mouth of a snake. In time, she would come to regret it, but not yet. For now, she could only take her silence as some quiet agreement, something she did not anticipate from much of the rest of the court.)
The desert was a dangerous, volatile place, but it held within it many minds slow to change.
Before she could say anything more, – if she even intended to – Torstein appeared. She caught his scent first, the sticky, sharp tang of blood, and it made her own, momentarily, run cold with memories of the teryr. As she turned to face him, eyes darting the length of his frame in a quick survey, she came to the conclusion that the blood spattering his frame was not his own. (Not the majority of it, anyhow.) Perhaps more unsettling than the blood was the quiet fury that occupied his features, the tempered rage - she might have thought it strange that he appeared so composed whilst soaked in blood, were she not accustomed to the same reaction. At his comment, she felt the sting of urgency, and, perhaps, something akin to frustration for the inopportune timing of whatever trouble Torstein had encountered, though her expression, eerily calm as ever even in the face of the bloodsoaked mountain of a man in front of her, showed no sign of this irritation.
Seraphina could think of nothing better to ask him than what Avdotya had already spoken; she nodded, slightly, at the tail end of the woman’s question. Speak.
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
