Israfel
Israfel had not lingered long in Denocte. In the end, there hadn’t been a reason to.
Her home was Terrastella, and no amount of bitter grievances, true or imagined, would take that from her. Despite their rocky intimacy, Florentine was her Queen, and Israfel was her most humble servant. Her chosen Warden. There was power in such a thing. Duty and loyalty drew the Sun Daughter to the swamps that she so passionately hated. Once, ‘friendship’ may have been counted among the two, but Israfel could not help but feel as though she had struck a wound so vast, so irreparable, that she could no longer call the golden fae a friend. She prayed that not to be true.
Darkness permeated the swamp. Sparse sunlight touched stagnant water and peat moss from the thick canopy of treetops and robust vines. Swamp water, stale and sour to the smell, clung to the insides of her nostrils, reminding her yet again why she hated this place so. It was disgusting. The foul waters clung to her legs, dragging the pale gold and ivory of her tail out behind her, fanning out as she advanced amidst the darkness and sweating bodies.
Despite her hatred for this place, she walked with a confidant sashay, ignoring the shit-brown muck that clung to her. Let the others condemn her confidence. Upon the Sun Daughter’s shoulders, large as Israfel was tall, Solaris stared through narrowed violet eyes. The Phoenix’s body, ample and strong, burned a hot red as flames emitted from silken feathers, burning any who dared venture too close. The flames did not harm Solaris’ determined charge, however, and instead illuminated a path chosen together.
Israfel arrived to the meeting but secluded herself away from the others, standing atop the high ground to survey the meeting as a silent sentinel. Her eyes, a fierce vermilion, lingered and caught Florentine’s lavender gaze fleetingly. The Sun Daughter’s hard expression softened, fondness leaking into her gaze as though to say, I’m sorry. After this, she would seek out her Queen in solitary. Israfel was a proud creature, but not too proud to allow her misgivings to ruin something good. From there, the Warden of Terrastella grew quiet and allowed the others of the Court to speak. Florentine began. She spoke of the Ilati and Israfel felt nothing. She knew nothing of Terrastella’s heritage and so was not moved as others might be, but it was a part of this soil, this water, this land, and she would defend it all the same… Even if it did stink like a corpse.
Florentine spoke and the Sun Daughter listened, silent as the Phoenix upon her spine. Solaris’ gaze dragged over the inhabitants, familiarizing herself with those surrounding them. Then, it was Jude, spouting words that Israfel could relate to. Had she not, just recently, confronted Florentine with her very own misgivings? She could sympathize the Kirin’s opinions, yet it seemed not all of their Court shared such empathy.
“He is entitled his thoughts,” Israfel challenged, her low voice touched with knowing danger and command, even though Asterion was now her superior. She didn’t care. Let him think less of her. Israfel was all unstable embers ready to ignite within a moment. Upon her shoulders, long, sharp talons digging into the pale mounds of her flesh, Solaris was a heavy weight. Familiar. Calming. The Sun Daughter may not have her magics anymore, but her Phoenix certainly did, and the flames burned bright around them in the darkness of the swamp. “Do not condemn him for speaking his mind. Florentine heard me out when I addressed my grievances, similar to Jude’s own. The least you can do is respect his words. You speak of ‘healing’… Then let us learn to heal by listening.”
Odd words, coming from a warrior, but she had not always been one. From there, Israfel turned her head and regarded her fae-Queen as Solaris shifted her weight upon her charge’s spine, wings ruffling and flames dancing.
’Speak your thoughts. They will listen.’ The mythic bird’s voice rang soothingly in her mind, and the Warden did as instructed.
“We must do what’s best for Terrastella. A member of our own was nearly taken from us, but he said ’fuck it’ to the Gods and he’s still here. I know absolutely nothing about healing or medicines, nor do I know a thing about these ‘Ilati’ you speak of. My skills are of better use on the battlefield, and so that’s where they’ll stay. But if you all believe that reawakening the roots of this land will strengthen our Court, then I will do my best to rally our forces.” The Warden’s gaze tore away from Florentine and instead focused on Lysander. “Glad to see you up and about. Dying is hardly much of a vacation.” Should they demand retribution for the Crow King’s actions against Lysander? Did Lysander desire justice? It wasn’t Israfel’s call to make, yet it didn’t change the fact that they were weak. The warriors of Terrastella were a dismal few, and their activity even more so. The Sun Daughter wondered if Florentine would mind if she and Solaris instilled a little ‘tough love’ upon them. Later, she would ask.
“We all have a difference in thought. Respect that. So long as we can all push aside our damned pride and focus on what really matters, that’s all I care about.”
Gone was the eloquence previously laced within her words. Fuck it, right? Israfel wasn’t a Queen. Once, she had been Godly, but now, she was nothing more than a warrior trying to defend her home.
“Florentine. Solaris and I are yours to command.”
She hoped that Florentine could unravel her unspoken words.
I’m sorry.
Her home was Terrastella, and no amount of bitter grievances, true or imagined, would take that from her. Despite their rocky intimacy, Florentine was her Queen, and Israfel was her most humble servant. Her chosen Warden. There was power in such a thing. Duty and loyalty drew the Sun Daughter to the swamps that she so passionately hated. Once, ‘friendship’ may have been counted among the two, but Israfel could not help but feel as though she had struck a wound so vast, so irreparable, that she could no longer call the golden fae a friend. She prayed that not to be true.
Darkness permeated the swamp. Sparse sunlight touched stagnant water and peat moss from the thick canopy of treetops and robust vines. Swamp water, stale and sour to the smell, clung to the insides of her nostrils, reminding her yet again why she hated this place so. It was disgusting. The foul waters clung to her legs, dragging the pale gold and ivory of her tail out behind her, fanning out as she advanced amidst the darkness and sweating bodies.
Despite her hatred for this place, she walked with a confidant sashay, ignoring the shit-brown muck that clung to her. Let the others condemn her confidence. Upon the Sun Daughter’s shoulders, large as Israfel was tall, Solaris stared through narrowed violet eyes. The Phoenix’s body, ample and strong, burned a hot red as flames emitted from silken feathers, burning any who dared venture too close. The flames did not harm Solaris’ determined charge, however, and instead illuminated a path chosen together.
Israfel arrived to the meeting but secluded herself away from the others, standing atop the high ground to survey the meeting as a silent sentinel. Her eyes, a fierce vermilion, lingered and caught Florentine’s lavender gaze fleetingly. The Sun Daughter’s hard expression softened, fondness leaking into her gaze as though to say, I’m sorry. After this, she would seek out her Queen in solitary. Israfel was a proud creature, but not too proud to allow her misgivings to ruin something good. From there, the Warden of Terrastella grew quiet and allowed the others of the Court to speak. Florentine began. She spoke of the Ilati and Israfel felt nothing. She knew nothing of Terrastella’s heritage and so was not moved as others might be, but it was a part of this soil, this water, this land, and she would defend it all the same… Even if it did stink like a corpse.
Florentine spoke and the Sun Daughter listened, silent as the Phoenix upon her spine. Solaris’ gaze dragged over the inhabitants, familiarizing herself with those surrounding them. Then, it was Jude, spouting words that Israfel could relate to. Had she not, just recently, confronted Florentine with her very own misgivings? She could sympathize the Kirin’s opinions, yet it seemed not all of their Court shared such empathy.
“He is entitled his thoughts,” Israfel challenged, her low voice touched with knowing danger and command, even though Asterion was now her superior. She didn’t care. Let him think less of her. Israfel was all unstable embers ready to ignite within a moment. Upon her shoulders, long, sharp talons digging into the pale mounds of her flesh, Solaris was a heavy weight. Familiar. Calming. The Sun Daughter may not have her magics anymore, but her Phoenix certainly did, and the flames burned bright around them in the darkness of the swamp. “Do not condemn him for speaking his mind. Florentine heard me out when I addressed my grievances, similar to Jude’s own. The least you can do is respect his words. You speak of ‘healing’… Then let us learn to heal by listening.”
Odd words, coming from a warrior, but she had not always been one. From there, Israfel turned her head and regarded her fae-Queen as Solaris shifted her weight upon her charge’s spine, wings ruffling and flames dancing.
’Speak your thoughts. They will listen.’ The mythic bird’s voice rang soothingly in her mind, and the Warden did as instructed.
“We must do what’s best for Terrastella. A member of our own was nearly taken from us, but he said ’fuck it’ to the Gods and he’s still here. I know absolutely nothing about healing or medicines, nor do I know a thing about these ‘Ilati’ you speak of. My skills are of better use on the battlefield, and so that’s where they’ll stay. But if you all believe that reawakening the roots of this land will strengthen our Court, then I will do my best to rally our forces.” The Warden’s gaze tore away from Florentine and instead focused on Lysander. “Glad to see you up and about. Dying is hardly much of a vacation.” Should they demand retribution for the Crow King’s actions against Lysander? Did Lysander desire justice? It wasn’t Israfel’s call to make, yet it didn’t change the fact that they were weak. The warriors of Terrastella were a dismal few, and their activity even more so. The Sun Daughter wondered if Florentine would mind if she and Solaris instilled a little ‘tough love’ upon them. Later, she would ask.
“We all have a difference in thought. Respect that. So long as we can all push aside our damned pride and focus on what really matters, that’s all I care about.”
Gone was the eloquence previously laced within her words. Fuck it, right? Israfel wasn’t a Queen. Once, she had been Godly, but now, she was nothing more than a warrior trying to defend her home.
“Florentine. Solaris and I are yours to command.”
She hoped that Florentine could unravel her unspoken words.
I’m sorry.
And here’s 1,000 words of Israfel judging everyone. Oops.
