☼ 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
Solterra is fighting - a constant push-and-pull between a desert determined to swallow the measly civilization that sprung up on its outskirts whole, a constant push-and-pull between the factions of hellfire personalities that occupy every nook and cranny and city street, a constant push-and-pull between the sun and moon in the sky above. To be Solterran - to be Queen of Solterra – is to fight an unyielding battle against elements to which you will inevitably succumb, be it by a well-placed knife between the ribs, the red-hot grasp of teeth on your throat on the battlefield, or time, weathering you away like sandstone until nothing remains. Nothing is permanent; steps in the sand will disappear in a day. Everything is a struggle.
She thinks, though, that Bexley Briar can understand struggle. Maybe not that one, – not yet – but she’s had to struggle for her life, and she did not succumb in spite of the best efforts of the elements to kill her, and that is the most inherently Solterran thing that Seraphina can think of. A scar is a survival, and she’s earned hers.
She speaks of going unthanked, and Seraphina fixes her with a contemplative, though not doubtful, expression. “Then you’re well-prepared for what is to come,” She says, simply; no need to speak of the political landscape that she will be baptized into come the morning. Her family - Seraphina hadn’t grown up with one, and it doesn’t always dawn on her that others most often do. She wonders what kind of a family created Bexley Briar, what kind of a mother birthed a wildfire girl with a thorn for a tongue. The briars. Sounded about right. “…Your family. Your homeland. It occurs to me that I’ve never asked about them – what were they like?” If Bexley is to be her Regent, Seraphina has the sneaking feeling that she should make some sort of attempt to get to know her on a personal level, and she’s curious besides. The silver has never left Novus, although she’s always wondered what lies beyond the sea that borders it on every side; the curiosity is freeing, even invigorating. She knows that she will never see them, but she can hear of them – and hearing would have to be enough.
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tags | @Bexley
notes | this went differently than I anticipated.
the moral of the story is // i will gut you if i need to // i will carve my way out //with only my teeth
Solterra is fighting - a constant push-and-pull between a desert determined to swallow the measly civilization that sprung up on its outskirts whole, a constant push-and-pull between the factions of hellfire personalities that occupy every nook and cranny and city street, a constant push-and-pull between the sun and moon in the sky above. To be Solterran - to be Queen of Solterra – is to fight an unyielding battle against elements to which you will inevitably succumb, be it by a well-placed knife between the ribs, the red-hot grasp of teeth on your throat on the battlefield, or time, weathering you away like sandstone until nothing remains. Nothing is permanent; steps in the sand will disappear in a day. Everything is a struggle.
She thinks, though, that Bexley Briar can understand struggle. Maybe not that one, – not yet – but she’s had to struggle for her life, and she did not succumb in spite of the best efforts of the elements to kill her, and that is the most inherently Solterran thing that Seraphina can think of. A scar is a survival, and she’s earned hers.
She speaks of going unthanked, and Seraphina fixes her with a contemplative, though not doubtful, expression. “Then you’re well-prepared for what is to come,” She says, simply; no need to speak of the political landscape that she will be baptized into come the morning. Her family - Seraphina hadn’t grown up with one, and it doesn’t always dawn on her that others most often do. She wonders what kind of a family created Bexley Briar, what kind of a mother birthed a wildfire girl with a thorn for a tongue. The briars. Sounded about right. “…Your family. Your homeland. It occurs to me that I’ve never asked about them – what were they like?” If Bexley is to be her Regent, Seraphina has the sneaking feeling that she should make some sort of attempt to get to know her on a personal level, and she’s curious besides. The silver has never left Novus, although she’s always wondered what lies beyond the sea that borders it on every side; the curiosity is freeing, even invigorating. She knows that she will never see them, but she can hear of them – and hearing would have to be enough.
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tags | @
notes | this went differently than I anticipated.
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
