FLORENTINE
always one decision away from a totally different life
The sun had nearly set, the sky was a deep navy. Upon the tree-shadowed horizon, there was only a thin line of gold framing the forest. Stars began to twinkle and beneath their eternal audience, Florentine gathered the Twilight party to her.
In the fading light, she is dark and richly gold. Her skin is liquid, water struck through with gold. Her wings are held to her side, though a couple of feathers fall and join the dusting of petals at her feet.
It is the chink of silver against glass that draws the attention of her brethren and she stands where all can see her, upon a small mound. Fires still breathed into the night, their smoke drifting over their gathered members.
At her side she can feel the warm glow of Cyrene and quiet calm of Asterion. Florentine does not think she could ask for a better Regime to stand beside her. Then her eyes drift to Israfel, the only appointed member of her counsel so far. With a sweep of golden feathers, Flora called Isra up to stand beside the Regime.
“We thank you for coming tonight.” The twilight girl begins lightly. “I hope you managed to make new acquantances.” Flora drinks in every face, shadows by moonlight but limned in the gold of the dying sun.
“Some of you may have been wondering when the appointments of our champions would take place, well, the answer is now.” Her smile is bright, “Terrastella had been so quiet, but our numbers are now strong, our ranks thriving, thank you. We have been through so much: standing beside Day in their civil war, standing strong against Night. But now I seek to bring us stability, to bring honour to the worthy. With that in mind, I chose tonight as the day to appoint our Champions.”
Her eyes are electric bright. They flash in the firelight and her blood thrums in her veins. “Raymond,” Her eyes befall the red warrior. “You have shown your skills upon the Steppe. Will you continue on as our Champion of Battle?” Florentine remembers hazy days in the Rift, in a rapidly changing world. She is so far from the child she had been then, but of she is pleased that he has come from there too.
“Fiona.” The quiet girl stands amidst the crowds, her notebook held close, its pencil well worn. “Will you be our Champion of Community? Remind us the communication with our brethren is not reserved for voice and words alone but action and good will?”
“Atreus.” Her gaze shifts to the Poison Master. His name inspired doubt, but his skills were formidable, “Will you accept the position of Champion of Healing?” Florentine’s dark eyes gleamed, his future would be full of shadows and light.
“Lastly, Turhan.” Florentine drinks in the wisened Ilati, “I have heard word of your counsel, that it is good. You are learned in the ways of the earth and our goddess, will you teach that to those who desire it? Will you be our Champion of Wisdom?”
From her position the gilt fae drinks in her appointed quartet. “If you wish to accept, then please step forward so we might see and congratulate you.” With an open wing, the young queen beckons her Champions forward.
@Asterion @Cyrene @Raymond @
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
