☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
and you're on your knees
and your faith in shreds, it seems
A council of deities, somewhere above. Night, Day, Dawn, Dusk. She listens to them all, particularly her patron, with a shock and awe that is quick to dull. They quarrel. Of course they quarrel. As she hears the dull, fuzzy sound of their voices, like a scene from a faraway, barely-discernible play, she is put in mind of four youths. She asks herself how the problems of immortals could ever compare to those of their mortal children.
They have nothing to lose.
Even as the light fades from the statue’s eyes and the ground shakes with tremors, she draws forward, ears snapped back against her skull and lips curled to reveal a viper’s snarl of teeth. Her body shudders with ill-contained venom, and she raises her eyes to stare – but they are not cold. They burn. “All of those years…” Barely a whisper, then louder, louder, louder. “All of those years, you remained silent, and now you show yourselves?” The gods are gone, the statue cold – but she knows they are still somewhere, listening. She had been understanding, but now…what could she ever hope to understand? They wouldn’t tell her. “And for what? A lover’s quarrel? A few meaningless squabbles that have killed no one?” She is suddenly aware of heat dripping from her eyes, down her cheeks, molten trails of salt water; but they are tears of rage where grief was, the last fragments of her faith manifest. She is no longer blind. “Where were you when our people starved in the streets? Where were you when our king paid slavers to kidnap the citizens of other courts? Where were you when Zolin and his father waged a pointless war against Denocte for nothing more than their chance at a bloody glory?” Oh, she had told herself that she could not blame the gods for the actions of mortals, but it is not their actions that are the crime – it is their inaction, their absence. She raises her chin, and the silver burning around her throat catches in the light. “Where were you when he collared our children and sent them off to war? Where were any of you when Solterra burned?” She remembers fire and blood twice over. She remembers. She remembers. She remembers. “I cannot fathom how you witnessed such destruction and decided that we are closer to devastation than we have been before. Why intervene now?”
Of course, there is no answer. Nothing, nothing at all – just a tired, tired girl, left to search for an explanation that will never come.
One long, rattling breath and she turns back to face the others. Her posture – her stare – is as cold and mechanical as it has ever been. “It seems…that we are trapped. Perhaps we could clear the rubble…” With that, she moves to the collapsed doorway and sets to prodding at some of the fallen stone with her shoulder, as though to test its weight.
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tags | <3
notes | it's been a long time coming, but, uhh, Sera finally snapped. anyways. will definitely be posting again.
and you're on your knees
and your faith in shreds, it seems
A council of deities, somewhere above. Night, Day, Dawn, Dusk. She listens to them all, particularly her patron, with a shock and awe that is quick to dull. They quarrel. Of course they quarrel. As she hears the dull, fuzzy sound of their voices, like a scene from a faraway, barely-discernible play, she is put in mind of four youths. She asks herself how the problems of immortals could ever compare to those of their mortal children.
They have nothing to lose.
Even as the light fades from the statue’s eyes and the ground shakes with tremors, she draws forward, ears snapped back against her skull and lips curled to reveal a viper’s snarl of teeth. Her body shudders with ill-contained venom, and she raises her eyes to stare – but they are not cold. They burn. “All of those years…” Barely a whisper, then louder, louder, louder. “All of those years, you remained silent, and now you show yourselves?” The gods are gone, the statue cold – but she knows they are still somewhere, listening. She had been understanding, but now…what could she ever hope to understand? They wouldn’t tell her. “And for what? A lover’s quarrel? A few meaningless squabbles that have killed no one?” She is suddenly aware of heat dripping from her eyes, down her cheeks, molten trails of salt water; but they are tears of rage where grief was, the last fragments of her faith manifest. She is no longer blind. “Where were you when our people starved in the streets? Where were you when our king paid slavers to kidnap the citizens of other courts? Where were you when Zolin and his father waged a pointless war against Denocte for nothing more than their chance at a bloody glory?” Oh, she had told herself that she could not blame the gods for the actions of mortals, but it is not their actions that are the crime – it is their inaction, their absence. She raises her chin, and the silver burning around her throat catches in the light. “Where were you when he collared our children and sent them off to war? Where were any of you when Solterra burned?” She remembers fire and blood twice over. She remembers. She remembers. She remembers. “I cannot fathom how you witnessed such destruction and decided that we are closer to devastation than we have been before. Why intervene now?”
Of course, there is no answer. Nothing, nothing at all – just a tired, tired girl, left to search for an explanation that will never come.
One long, rattling breath and she turns back to face the others. Her posture – her stare – is as cold and mechanical as it has ever been. “It seems…that we are trapped. Perhaps we could clear the rubble…” With that, she moves to the collapsed doorway and sets to prodding at some of the fallen stone with her shoulder, as though to test its weight.
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tags | <3
notes | it's been a long time coming, but, uhh, Sera finally snapped. anyways. will definitely be posting again.
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
