[P] collarbone country

[Marisol]

i opened my mouth and the night poured in-

The woman that approaches is beautiful in an almost eerie way. Mari watches her with cool gray eyes, and her gaze may not be warm in the one would expect of a friendly stranger, but at least it is not as piercing as it usually is, her usual fierceness muted slightly by those dark fluttering lashes and the low, warm light that surrounds them. Dimmed by the dusk, the stranger is pale-silver, her hair awash in a pigment of wine; Marisol notes the horn spiraling from her forehead with muted interest and does not remark upon it.

She doubts they’ve crossed paths before. The way Mari’s heart picks up speed briefly in her chest, and the sheer individuality of the woman in front of her, makes her think she would’ve remembered their meeting before. The Commander’s memory is as sharp as her tongue, especially when it comes to the Terrastellans she’s meant to protect; what sort of warrior would she be if she did not know what she fought for, and what sort of Halcyon leader would she be were she not to devoted to every soul within the Dusk Court’s border? It is with this in mind that she nods briefly at Indra’s introduction, then responds, raspy but cordial: I’m Marisol. Nice to meet you. The rough scrape of her voice makes it obvious that the Commander is not usually talkative - out of practice, even, in hospitable conversation - but it’s still worth an attempt, she thinks, regardless of the embarrassment.

Long and stressful, she answers, something almost like a laugh seeping into her voice. On Mari, anything like a smile looks foreign, feels wrong, but she accepts the tease with an awkward sort of grace, as graceful as she can manage, and she blinks at Indra warmly. The Summit worries me.

Her voice trails off, and Marisol tilts her chin to the scene behind them. Miles and miles away, the peak of Veneror is just visible, shrouded in icy fog and the blur that comes with far distance, a monument that looms overhead with seemingly titan importance; her gaze is even as she watches it, but for the millionth time today, something like anxiety thrills through her nerves as she wonders what is going on up there and whether the regimes are truly God-protected. They can only hope.

@indra