☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
my blood will fill the ditch // my blood will bury the mountain // but for now it sits still in my mouth // just waiting on the tip of my tongue
my blood will fill the ditch // my blood will bury the mountain // but for now it sits still in my mouth // just waiting on the tip of my tongue
She notes the curve of his lips. “Thank you,” She says, with a hint of dry humor that makes it clear that his – rather lighthearted - intentions were noticed, though she adds, a bit more seriously, “A crown is an insulting thing to wear, in Solterra – but this is not Solterra, and I didn’t want to reject a gift.” Uncomfortable as it makes her. Lilies are just lilies, and flowers are little more than a mockery of the gilded crowns that Solterran royalty used to wear, a child’s temporal plaything by comparison to the weight of a nation.
Seraphina knows Florentine and Cyrene, and, from her few observations of Asterion, he seems to fit in with them quite comfortably. They both possess a softness that strikes her as strange; something gentle that she wouldn’t quite call malleable. A sort of stubborn kindness, perhaps, if a naïve one. But, then, she reminds herself that not everyone is so guarded as she – not everyone had grown up clutching a knife to their breast, and, even among those that did, some still escaped with a love for the world that met them with such cruelty. It was a resilience that she did not understand. What she possesses is devotion, and she wonders, sometimes, if it is really the same thing.
She watches his expression carefully as he offers her an answer; the curl of his lips is not so gentle or so soft, then, and there is a hint of something painful in it that makes her wonder what he is remembering. At his admission, she offers, “I am…aware of what occurred at the Festival that Dusk hosted during the Solstice.” Seraphina still feels a bit awkward for her absence; although she was swamped with work after Maxence’s death, diplomatically, she has a feeling that it was something of a blunder. (Well, her people had attended in her absence, at least – and Avdotya.) “Has there been more than one occasion?” She doesn’t know of any other parties that have gone poorly for Terrastella, but she knows that Florentine and Asterion are both from another land, and, as far as she’s concerned, this is as good a time as ever to learn more.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Asterion
notes | short and sweet <3
Seraphina knows Florentine and Cyrene, and, from her few observations of Asterion, he seems to fit in with them quite comfortably. They both possess a softness that strikes her as strange; something gentle that she wouldn’t quite call malleable. A sort of stubborn kindness, perhaps, if a naïve one. But, then, she reminds herself that not everyone is so guarded as she – not everyone had grown up clutching a knife to their breast, and, even among those that did, some still escaped with a love for the world that met them with such cruelty. It was a resilience that she did not understand. What she possesses is devotion, and she wonders, sometimes, if it is really the same thing.
She watches his expression carefully as he offers her an answer; the curl of his lips is not so gentle or so soft, then, and there is a hint of something painful in it that makes her wonder what he is remembering. At his admission, she offers, “I am…aware of what occurred at the Festival that Dusk hosted during the Solstice.” Seraphina still feels a bit awkward for her absence; although she was swamped with work after Maxence’s death, diplomatically, she has a feeling that it was something of a blunder. (Well, her people had attended in her absence, at least – and Avdotya.) “Has there been more than one occasion?” She doesn’t know of any other parties that have gone poorly for Terrastella, but she knows that Florentine and Asterion are both from another land, and, as far as she’s concerned, this is as good a time as ever to learn more.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Asterion
notes | short and sweet <3
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
