☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
and you run from it then
now you can't escape
They are, he says, and the smile that he gives her is wrong – in the harsh shadows, its edges contort. He is quiet for what seems like far too long, before, with a laugh that is no laugh but is rather intended to fill up space, he informs her that he is home, and she is left to mull over what that means. Had he left Denocte? But Acton was a Crow, and there were none more loyal to Reichenbach than his Crows…if that was the case, it would mean that the closing of the gates had caused far deeper wounds in the Night Kingdom than she could ever have imagined. In any case, the idea that Delumine is his home strikes the silver as laughable, were she the laughing type – as it is, it strikes a familiar, pitifully disillusioned chord. She doesn’t have too much time to spend on her considerations, however; he is walking, a bit more fluidly than he did before she caught him. (He is still certainly no spy, no magician, no assassin…another drunken face to the crowd.)
“No,” She decides, stepping forward to follow him, “You are no more home than I.”
He gives her no time to press him further, however, and turns her question back on her. His voice slurs and trembles, and he tosses her a look over his shoulder; ears twitched forward, she meets it, expression unreadable. “Rebellion…is that what they are calling it?” No – it was no rebellion, at least not against her. Rebellion meant overthrow, and change. Her enemies had come for neither. “No. The Davke do not desire the crown – if Avdotya wished for it, it would have been hers after Maxence’s death.” In truth, she had expected the woman to take it, and she would not have fought her for it. Now…now she knows why she did not. “No…they wanted fire and blood. They wanted revenge.” Vengeance was a pretty enough concept, until you got to know its aftermath. To her, it smells like smoke and burnt flesh; to her, it feels like the crumbled remnants of ancient murals, disfigured beyond recognition; to her, it will only ever be children with glazed eyes. “I’m sure they still do. The capitol is stable, for now…we are rebuilding. Even so, they remain, and I am not sure that there is anything we can do to be rid of them permanently.” They haunted the desert like an infestation of weeds; she would never be rid of them permanently. “And capable…hah. You know, I knew that I couldn’t trust Avdotya; they call her a viper for a reason. I just wanted to. And Raum…”
She trails off. A long, thoughtful stare, and a moment’s silence to consider her next words.
“We knew that he was likely the spy, but I was…unwilling to act on suspicions alone. I hesitated - and I’m sure you know what happened as a result.” Better than she, even – she, as usual, was one step behind, left to clean up the aftermath.
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tags | @Acton
notes | I have lots of muse for this thread
and you run from it then
now you can't escape
They are, he says, and the smile that he gives her is wrong – in the harsh shadows, its edges contort. He is quiet for what seems like far too long, before, with a laugh that is no laugh but is rather intended to fill up space, he informs her that he is home, and she is left to mull over what that means. Had he left Denocte? But Acton was a Crow, and there were none more loyal to Reichenbach than his Crows…if that was the case, it would mean that the closing of the gates had caused far deeper wounds in the Night Kingdom than she could ever have imagined. In any case, the idea that Delumine is his home strikes the silver as laughable, were she the laughing type – as it is, it strikes a familiar, pitifully disillusioned chord. She doesn’t have too much time to spend on her considerations, however; he is walking, a bit more fluidly than he did before she caught him. (He is still certainly no spy, no magician, no assassin…another drunken face to the crowd.)
“No,” She decides, stepping forward to follow him, “You are no more home than I.”
He gives her no time to press him further, however, and turns her question back on her. His voice slurs and trembles, and he tosses her a look over his shoulder; ears twitched forward, she meets it, expression unreadable. “Rebellion…is that what they are calling it?” No – it was no rebellion, at least not against her. Rebellion meant overthrow, and change. Her enemies had come for neither. “No. The Davke do not desire the crown – if Avdotya wished for it, it would have been hers after Maxence’s death.” In truth, she had expected the woman to take it, and she would not have fought her for it. Now…now she knows why she did not. “No…they wanted fire and blood. They wanted revenge.” Vengeance was a pretty enough concept, until you got to know its aftermath. To her, it smells like smoke and burnt flesh; to her, it feels like the crumbled remnants of ancient murals, disfigured beyond recognition; to her, it will only ever be children with glazed eyes. “I’m sure they still do. The capitol is stable, for now…we are rebuilding. Even so, they remain, and I am not sure that there is anything we can do to be rid of them permanently.” They haunted the desert like an infestation of weeds; she would never be rid of them permanently. “And capable…hah. You know, I knew that I couldn’t trust Avdotya; they call her a viper for a reason. I just wanted to. And Raum…”
She trails off. A long, thoughtful stare, and a moment’s silence to consider her next words.
“We knew that he was likely the spy, but I was…unwilling to act on suspicions alone. I hesitated - and I’m sure you know what happened as a result.” Better than she, even – she, as usual, was one step behind, left to clean up the aftermath.
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tags | @Acton
notes | I have lots of muse for this thread
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
