[P] could you tell me what stopped the rain

[Theodosia]

let our eyes show the 
fire in our hearts tonight

She had taken a few days to think over what her father had told her -- at first, helping him roll out the cookie dough on a kitchen counter, and later in the barracks, in her empty room, staring at the door and aching inside with her insecurities and her uncertainties waging war.

She doesn’t know when the decision is fully made -- perhaps it never truly is, perhaps it is simply an impulse born of the lack of sleep and a lack of bravery. She does not have the answers she needs, the answers she desires; she cannot form the questions in a way that doesn’t sound accusatory, or petulant.

She needs more information, and it is this drive that sends her away from Terrastella once more, this time towards the golden sands of Solterra. She does not wear her armor, nor does she don her warpaint -- she goes not as a soldier, not as Terrastella’s warden, but as herself with only a soft fur collar and a veil of silk draped over her back to protect her skin from the scorching sun.

(Perhaps she wants him to see that she is as beautiful as she can be deadly, to witness the way the static crackles over her skin every time the silk brushes her hip, to know that there is a storm within her far greater than the ocean in him.)

When she lands upon the steps of Solterra’s castles, she can’t help but note with approval how alert the guards are, how they have obviously been tracking her approach -- spears lowered but ready, the two nearest with eyes on her and the rest with their eyes on the streets or the horizon but ears turned towards her.

A point in Oreste’s favor, then, or perhaps whoever he had appointed his warden.

“An audience with your king, please.”

credits

@Orestes

[Orestes]

You blush like the ocean in love,

ORESTES
—
wild with blueness


To say he is surprised when the Warden of Terrastella asks for his audience is an understatement. Orestes is utterly taken aback; when his guard tells him of her arrival, he cannot discern what for. Marisol had sent no letter noting him of Theodosia’s intended visit. Why would she not tell me? he wonders. Orestes sends the guard away, but does not yet instruct them to show her inside. The guard informs her that although she is unmistakably the Warden of Terrastella, she does not come dressed as such, nor does she appear to bear any official papers. The guard only knew who she was due to having a cousin in Terrastella who is a soldier. 

Orestes realises it is rude to make an audience wait, but he does not know where best to receive her. There is the throne room, of course—but he has never liked it, and to do so would seem in bad taste. Orestes eventually decides on his study… yes, he will invite her to his well-used and well-loved study, with the sunlight streaming through the windows just so—

Orestes rises from his study and starts toward the stairs before hesitating at the top of them. He says: “Ariel..? Please? Could you greet the Warden and…” 

The lion is laying before the fireplace of Orestes’s study. It is rarely lit, but even the desert grows cold in the winter, and a small fire burns. Ariel slits open one eye and appraises him. 

“Am I your errand boy now, Sovereign?”

“Of course not,” Orestes says, crossly. “But I could use the help.” 

“In that case,” the great lion opens his other eye and rises. He stretches lethargically and yawns, a gesture that exposes the tip of every tooth. Orestes is thinks it might be intentional. “At your service, my liege.” 

Orestes decides against the throne room; instead, he settles in a small chamber nearby with several comfortable chairs and a fireplace that is lit. He waits there, a little uncertainly, still wondering why Marisol had said nothing. Meanwhile, Ariel crosses the citadel to the waiting room where the guards allowed her inside. The lion dips his head respectfully in greeting. “The Sovereign will gladly speak with you, although his time is precious.” The lion adds the second bit as an afterthought, and fixes her with a pointed stare.

There is a possibly, however, that every one of Ariel’s glances is pointed.

It does not take long for the pair to reach the sitting room, where Orestes rises to greet Theodosia. He smiles warmly. “Your reputation proceeds you, Lady Theodosia. I must admit, I am surprised by your arrival. How may I be of service to you?” His speech is stiffer then he would have liked. Orestes is surprised at his self-consciousness, as all at once his subconscious releases its fear: 

Perhaps she is not here for Marisol. 

Perhaps she is here because of Marisol. 

Orestes gestures for her to sit, and Ariel prowls across the room to lay at the Sovereign’s feet. 

@Theodosia || I hope him knowing who she is is alright! c: i thought it might make it a little more interesting. She's already in his head xD

♢