☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
the moral of the story is // i will gut you if i need to // i will carve my way out //with only my teeth
Her expression shifts from something that Seraphina cannot place to eager, burning excitement in the space of seconds; she’s pleased, Seraphina realizes. She knew that she would be. When she became Emissary, she knows that she did not feel the same anticipation, but the circumstances were so different then – when she took the throne, at least, she was eager for what she thought was the opportunity to make a change in the land to which she had dedicated her entire life. Her words bring a rare glimmer of warmth to the mare’s mismatched eyes. “Excellent – I am counting on it.” And she is. Seraphina can handle violence – much as she dislikes it, she is a violent creature by design. Smiling, on the other hand…
But there is a quickness to her response that gives Seraphina momentary pause, and, for a fraction of a second, she remembers Maxence, clutched in a teryr’s claws; she remembers the great beast’s wings blotting out the sun, and she remembers that she could not save him. (Perhaps the first great failure of her rule was becoming the ruler in the first place, she thinks.) She remembers how quickly she was willing to step up afterwards, too, without really knowing, and, with a soft reluctance, she continues. “But I have to ask…if something happens to me, do you know what this means?” You will be Queen is implied somewhere in the softness of her tone; unless Eik stepped up instead, as she did, but a substantial part of Seraphina doubts that would be the case. She is not sure that he has the same kind of ambition that she knows Bexley possesses. “This job is a cruel one, and so often thankless. I have no doubt that it is one that you can do – but are you sure that you want it?” She wonders if she would have wanted it, if she had known – so recently and yet so long ago – what it had meant, and she wonders if the question she was asking was even something fathomable to someone who hadn’t lived it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Bexley
notes | short and sweet
the moral of the story is // i will gut you if i need to // i will carve my way out //with only my teeth
Her expression shifts from something that Seraphina cannot place to eager, burning excitement in the space of seconds; she’s pleased, Seraphina realizes. She knew that she would be. When she became Emissary, she knows that she did not feel the same anticipation, but the circumstances were so different then – when she took the throne, at least, she was eager for what she thought was the opportunity to make a change in the land to which she had dedicated her entire life. Her words bring a rare glimmer of warmth to the mare’s mismatched eyes. “Excellent – I am counting on it.” And she is. Seraphina can handle violence – much as she dislikes it, she is a violent creature by design. Smiling, on the other hand…
But there is a quickness to her response that gives Seraphina momentary pause, and, for a fraction of a second, she remembers Maxence, clutched in a teryr’s claws; she remembers the great beast’s wings blotting out the sun, and she remembers that she could not save him. (Perhaps the first great failure of her rule was becoming the ruler in the first place, she thinks.) She remembers how quickly she was willing to step up afterwards, too, without really knowing, and, with a soft reluctance, she continues. “But I have to ask…if something happens to me, do you know what this means?” You will be Queen is implied somewhere in the softness of her tone; unless Eik stepped up instead, as she did, but a substantial part of Seraphina doubts that would be the case. She is not sure that he has the same kind of ambition that she knows Bexley possesses. “This job is a cruel one, and so often thankless. I have no doubt that it is one that you can do – but are you sure that you want it?” She wonders if she would have wanted it, if she had known – so recently and yet so long ago – what it had meant, and she wonders if the question she was asking was even something fathomable to someone who hadn’t lived it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @
notes | short and sweet
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
