☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
and we wear out all out prayers
when the work runs out
Naturally, she would notice the sun stop in place.
As a desert-dweller, Seraphina was well-accustomed to keeping a careful eye on the sun’s path across the sky. It was the only way that she could keep track of the time of day, and, considering the permanent, stifling heat of the Mors, time was a valuable commodity. So, when all of the sundials in the capitol stopped working simultaneously and the sun visibly stopped in its long arc to the horizon, she was naturally inclined to investigate – particularly knowing that the god of Day had broken free of the statue that once housed him and now walked the lands of Novus. For good or for ill, she knew - knew - that it had to be his work.
There was something in the far distance – towards the canyons. She could see it from the ramparts. Something luminous, bright, blazing, like a star crashed down to the ground. No, not star. Sun. Wordlessly, thoughtlessly – she raced down the stairs, into the city streets, and beyond the great walls, flying across the great expanse of red-gold uninhibited and urgent. That is no foreign glow; she has seen it before. She had just reached the edge of the Elatus when the ground shook, and the walls of the canyon vibrated urgently with it. Seraphina froze, muscles tensing, and backed away, ears flattening against her skull, but the tremors were over in a moment, and she was free to move forward – albeit with far, far more caution.
What greeted her eyes as she drew further and further into the canyon was so unfamiliar as to be alien; a great colosseum stood in the midst of the path, carved into the stone that she would know in a dream. She stared up at the towering walls, and it was all she could do not to gasp. However, the sleek sandstone walls and hints of ruddy clay were not nearly so distracting as the glass hoofprints that marked the sun god’s path. It occurred to her, as she stood, wide-eyed and silent, that everything she hoped for was hopeless. Even if she did have magic, – and she remained woefully unblessed – her powers would be pale in comparison to the touch of a god, however momentary. She didn’t know what she wanted from them; she was half-desperate for solitude and half-craving for something like love, and she was sure that they would offer her neither. She couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t get away from them, and no amount of blind faith would make them love her. (And her god, if she could still call him that, was not a loving one. None of them were.)
All that she did know was this: if they had come to do her people harm, she would fight back with whatever measly strength she had to offer.
Almost reluctantly, she edged into the Colosseum; it seemed even less fathomable than she had imagined from the outside, vast enough to eat away at the sky. In spite of its relative simplicity, the sandstone featured more ornate details than she had anticipated…and it was ancient. She wondered if it was a stylistic choice, or if the god had unearthed the great structure, rather than making it from scratch. She supposed that it didn’t matter. Her gaze lit upon a distant figure – unfamiliar – and the closer, recognizable shape of Teiran, and, even further in the distance, she thought she saw small figures among the stands. She watched, for a moment, then turned away. This was a gift, or a promise, or a warning, a place made for the violence that Solterra bred. The trouble was that she didn’t know which.
It was something that would haunt her as she made her slow trek back to the capitol – just like each glimmer of golden sand hit by sun on the horizon, a little god.
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tags | @
notes | a bit scant on the details, but. sera's in and out, just because I wanted her to pop in.
and we wear out all out prayers
when the work runs out
Naturally, she would notice the sun stop in place.
As a desert-dweller, Seraphina was well-accustomed to keeping a careful eye on the sun’s path across the sky. It was the only way that she could keep track of the time of day, and, considering the permanent, stifling heat of the Mors, time was a valuable commodity. So, when all of the sundials in the capitol stopped working simultaneously and the sun visibly stopped in its long arc to the horizon, she was naturally inclined to investigate – particularly knowing that the god of Day had broken free of the statue that once housed him and now walked the lands of Novus. For good or for ill, she knew - knew - that it had to be his work.
There was something in the far distance – towards the canyons. She could see it from the ramparts. Something luminous, bright, blazing, like a star crashed down to the ground. No, not star. Sun. Wordlessly, thoughtlessly – she raced down the stairs, into the city streets, and beyond the great walls, flying across the great expanse of red-gold uninhibited and urgent. That is no foreign glow; she has seen it before. She had just reached the edge of the Elatus when the ground shook, and the walls of the canyon vibrated urgently with it. Seraphina froze, muscles tensing, and backed away, ears flattening against her skull, but the tremors were over in a moment, and she was free to move forward – albeit with far, far more caution.
What greeted her eyes as she drew further and further into the canyon was so unfamiliar as to be alien; a great colosseum stood in the midst of the path, carved into the stone that she would know in a dream. She stared up at the towering walls, and it was all she could do not to gasp. However, the sleek sandstone walls and hints of ruddy clay were not nearly so distracting as the glass hoofprints that marked the sun god’s path. It occurred to her, as she stood, wide-eyed and silent, that everything she hoped for was hopeless. Even if she did have magic, – and she remained woefully unblessed – her powers would be pale in comparison to the touch of a god, however momentary. She didn’t know what she wanted from them; she was half-desperate for solitude and half-craving for something like love, and she was sure that they would offer her neither. She couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t get away from them, and no amount of blind faith would make them love her. (And her god, if she could still call him that, was not a loving one. None of them were.)
All that she did know was this: if they had come to do her people harm, she would fight back with whatever measly strength she had to offer.
Almost reluctantly, she edged into the Colosseum; it seemed even less fathomable than she had imagined from the outside, vast enough to eat away at the sky. In spite of its relative simplicity, the sandstone featured more ornate details than she had anticipated…and it was ancient. She wondered if it was a stylistic choice, or if the god had unearthed the great structure, rather than making it from scratch. She supposed that it didn’t matter. Her gaze lit upon a distant figure – unfamiliar – and the closer, recognizable shape of Teiran, and, even further in the distance, she thought she saw small figures among the stands. She watched, for a moment, then turned away. This was a gift, or a promise, or a warning, a place made for the violence that Solterra bred. The trouble was that she didn’t know which.
It was something that would haunt her as she made her slow trek back to the capitol – just like each glimmer of golden sand hit by sun on the horizon, a little god.
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tags | @
notes | a bit scant on the details, but. sera's in and out, just because I wanted her to pop in.
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
