☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
Seraphina was used to the heat.
She still felt it, of course, but it didn’t bother her; the scald of the sun and the bite of the red-gold sand was a comfort, a reminder that she was home. To many, the Mors were unpleasant and deadly, but she had walked among them in her childhood; she knew them as well as she knew herself, if not better. Drawn out to get water from the Oasis, she’d departed from the cool walls of the Capitol and out into the desert in the early morning to escape the heat of midday, although she knew that she’d be walking back in it. A bit of heat one way, however, was far better than waiting for nightfall – near-suffocating as the temperature was, she was almost invigorated by it.
As her long, structured strides drew her further out across the skittering sands, her gaze caught on an unfamiliar figure in the distance. Pale and tall, but graceful in build, with a pair of horns and flecks of glittering stones on his cheeks, and two-tailed – in the bright light, he was practically luminous, a nearly stellar figure on the sands. He burnt like a second sun. As she neared him, she slowed to a halt several feet away, head tilted to look him over; his expression burned like the pale fire of his coat. Whoever this strange stallion was, he was troubled by something.
His scent told her that he was another member of the Day Court, but she didn’t recognize him – it wasn’t as though she knew all of her citizens, but they’d had an influx of new members all across Novus since the various nations had begun to allow foreigners in again, and she’d run into more than one unwitting traveler dehydrated and near death among the sands; she supposed that she was duty-bound to find out whether or not she’d have to shovel his corpse out of the sands any time soon. To those unfamiliar with the seemingly-endless, almost indistinguishable dunes of the Mors, it was all too easy to get lost without realizing it. She raised her dark brows at him, the sleek silver of her skin catching in the bright sunlight, and took note of his erratic, infuriated movements and outraged expression. “Wandering the desert angry rarely ends well,” She observed, amicably enough, but Seraphina was not an especially personal creature; her tone was difficult, perhaps impossible, to read.
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tags | @El Toro
notes | <3
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
Seraphina was used to the heat.
She still felt it, of course, but it didn’t bother her; the scald of the sun and the bite of the red-gold sand was a comfort, a reminder that she was home. To many, the Mors were unpleasant and deadly, but she had walked among them in her childhood; she knew them as well as she knew herself, if not better. Drawn out to get water from the Oasis, she’d departed from the cool walls of the Capitol and out into the desert in the early morning to escape the heat of midday, although she knew that she’d be walking back in it. A bit of heat one way, however, was far better than waiting for nightfall – near-suffocating as the temperature was, she was almost invigorated by it.
As her long, structured strides drew her further out across the skittering sands, her gaze caught on an unfamiliar figure in the distance. Pale and tall, but graceful in build, with a pair of horns and flecks of glittering stones on his cheeks, and two-tailed – in the bright light, he was practically luminous, a nearly stellar figure on the sands. He burnt like a second sun. As she neared him, she slowed to a halt several feet away, head tilted to look him over; his expression burned like the pale fire of his coat. Whoever this strange stallion was, he was troubled by something.
His scent told her that he was another member of the Day Court, but she didn’t recognize him – it wasn’t as though she knew all of her citizens, but they’d had an influx of new members all across Novus since the various nations had begun to allow foreigners in again, and she’d run into more than one unwitting traveler dehydrated and near death among the sands; she supposed that she was duty-bound to find out whether or not she’d have to shovel his corpse out of the sands any time soon. To those unfamiliar with the seemingly-endless, almost indistinguishable dunes of the Mors, it was all too easy to get lost without realizing it. She raised her dark brows at him, the sleek silver of her skin catching in the bright sunlight, and took note of his erratic, infuriated movements and outraged expression. “Wandering the desert angry rarely ends well,” She observed, amicably enough, but Seraphina was not an especially personal creature; her tone was difficult, perhaps impossible, to read.
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tags | @El Toro
notes | <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
