☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
if this is redemption // why do I bother at all // there's nothing to mention // and nothing has changed // still I'd rather be working at something than praying for the rain
if this is redemption // why do I bother at all // there's nothing to mention // and nothing has changed // still I'd rather be working at something than praying for the rain
If Seraphina notices his social misstep, she gives no sign of it; rather, she is quick to offer a hint of a nod. “In Solterra,” She says, simply, “they are as dangerous as they are ridiculous. Our previous monarch was…tyrannical, and he had a taste for the grandiose. Better to avoid the association.” She is disinclined to speak any further of Zolin without prompt – Solterra’s history is an ugly thing, and she doesn’t know how much he already knows of it besides. Instead, she lets the conversation flow on, listening attentively as he admits that the other party garnered emotional distress, not physical.
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” She admits, in the mechanical, detached tone that she resorts to when she’s not entirely sure what to do with a situation – better to shut down and resort to what she does know. She has the distinct impression that she should be empathetic, but she isn’t, and she doesn’t know how to be. She can only eye him with surgical intensity, like a frog on a dissecting table. He’s hurt. She knows that much. What she doesn’t know is why, or how, or what to say to make him hurt less, if that’s even what she’s meant to be doing. She does know that she dislikes his tone, the self-deprecating, defeated atmosphere of it all. Perhaps he is a different breed than his sister and her Emissary, or perhaps he has been so deeply wounded that he can’t stop the bleeding; either way, his words lament the world. It is a cruel place, and a painful one. She knows that. “However…nothing is inevitable, Asterion – our choices build the world we live in. Acceptance is dangerous.” She doesn’t know what he’s talking about; even if she did, chances were that she wouldn’t understand it. However, she does know that she dislikes his tone.
He says, then, eyes flitting to the lilies encircling her forehead, that his homeland doesn’t have politics - just living - and goes on to admit that he wishes he were a bit more controlled, a bit more like her. Seraphina stiffens abruptly, standing erect and strange, and, when she speaks again, her voice is considerably softer and her tone distinctly strange; there is a hint of an edge to it. “I am what I must be, Asterion. To have anything, you must lose something else.” She stares at him through cold, eerie eyes. “Regardless of the land you hail from, I suspect there was no dearth of broken hearts or violent men. The stakes might have changed, but not the game - and you can’t always win, no matter how you play.” Kind or cruel, cruel or kind; it matters little, she thinks, when failure is inevitable. Better to learn to cope with what you were than to strive against it.
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tags | @Asterion
notes | <3
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” She admits, in the mechanical, detached tone that she resorts to when she’s not entirely sure what to do with a situation – better to shut down and resort to what she does know. She has the distinct impression that she should be empathetic, but she isn’t, and she doesn’t know how to be. She can only eye him with surgical intensity, like a frog on a dissecting table. He’s hurt. She knows that much. What she doesn’t know is why, or how, or what to say to make him hurt less, if that’s even what she’s meant to be doing. She does know that she dislikes his tone, the self-deprecating, defeated atmosphere of it all. Perhaps he is a different breed than his sister and her Emissary, or perhaps he has been so deeply wounded that he can’t stop the bleeding; either way, his words lament the world. It is a cruel place, and a painful one. She knows that. “However…nothing is inevitable, Asterion – our choices build the world we live in. Acceptance is dangerous.” She doesn’t know what he’s talking about; even if she did, chances were that she wouldn’t understand it. However, she does know that she dislikes his tone.
He says, then, eyes flitting to the lilies encircling her forehead, that his homeland doesn’t have politics - just living - and goes on to admit that he wishes he were a bit more controlled, a bit more like her. Seraphina stiffens abruptly, standing erect and strange, and, when she speaks again, her voice is considerably softer and her tone distinctly strange; there is a hint of an edge to it. “I am what I must be, Asterion. To have anything, you must lose something else.” She stares at him through cold, eerie eyes. “Regardless of the land you hail from, I suspect there was no dearth of broken hearts or violent men. The stakes might have changed, but not the game - and you can’t always win, no matter how you play.” Kind or cruel, cruel or kind; it matters little, she thinks, when failure is inevitable. Better to learn to cope with what you were than to strive against it.
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tags | @Asterion
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
