☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
but oh, my heart was flawed, I knew my weakness
so hold my hand - consign me not to darkness
He reaches out his muzzle, and she feels the faint tickle of his breath against her skin. Sera. Her name is so rarely shortened aloud; a Sera is a girl, and a Seraphina is a burning one. (But she feels more like a Sera right now.) He asks her how she is, his gaze as surgical and piercing as hers so often feels, and she can’t quite find it in her to meet his gaze. It’s nothing of him and everything of her. She doesn’t feel like herself.
“I…” She hesitates. She doesn’t know what to say – she doesn’t know how she feels. (It’s something she thought she’d forgotten, or given up on.) She doesn’t want to falter, in front of him. Seraphina doesn’t wish to appear weak, as though the succumbing would be a sort of admission. (It might open the floodgates, untwine the little bits of her that remain all tangled up and defensive and certain. She needs to be certain.) In truth, she’s not familiar enough with the landscape of her own emotions to know exactly what she’s experiencing. “I think that I am…disappointed. I thought that it would be different,” She admits, but she doesn’t know how - in some intangible, inexplicable way, she supposes, “but it wasn’t. I thought that they would give us answers, but I only have more questions.” And she needs answers. If change is coming to Novus, change that could endanger her nation so soon after the Davke attack, she needs to be able to prepare for it. (But that isn’t the only question she wants answered, is it? If they wanted to interfere now, why couldn’t they have interfered during Zolin’s reign of terror? Why did they let her people suffer? Why were they silent? Why-) They will have to remain, she knows, until they find some semblance of an answer on the sacred peak; Caligo’s statue is gone, and, having seen Tempus’s, she can only assume what that means. For now, she waits.
“How are you? It cannot be easy to…stumble into the conflicts of our pantheon.” She’s never asked him about his land’s gods, she thinks, if he has any at all; she knows that his people didn’t read or write, and they didn’t have great structures and walls, but she doesn’t think that any of those markers have anything to do with religion. She realizes, sometimes, that she doesn’t know the people around her – now matter how close she considers them – much at all. It was only during her promotion to Regent that she learned anything of Bexley’s background, and Eik…
She has gathered that his past is painful, but she hasn’t asked. He hasn’t asked about hers, either, but she doesn’t know what she’d tell him if he did, so she thinks that she’s been grateful for the silence. It isn’t something that you really want to know, just something that you think that you want to know - and it isn’t something that you can forget once you know it. It’s a history that defines her, after all; she doesn’t like letting others know it. It’s confining, like being stuffed into a box. However, her thoughts aren’t on her own story – they are on Eik’s. Much like the Regimes of Dusk and Night, Eik seems to have accepted the gods’ behavior with a bizarre sense of calm. She knows that they can’t mean to him what they mean to her, but she would have expected Divinity itself to be unexpected, particularly to a man so prone to questioning.
Apparently, she is wrong.
Apparently, she doesn’t know him as well as she once thought.
(But, then, she feels a fire still raging inside of her, all teeth and ready to bite. Perhaps she doesn't know anything as well as she once thought.)
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tags | @Eik
notes | <3
but oh, my heart was flawed, I knew my weakness
so hold my hand - consign me not to darkness
He reaches out his muzzle, and she feels the faint tickle of his breath against her skin. Sera. Her name is so rarely shortened aloud; a Sera is a girl, and a Seraphina is a burning one. (But she feels more like a Sera right now.) He asks her how she is, his gaze as surgical and piercing as hers so often feels, and she can’t quite find it in her to meet his gaze. It’s nothing of him and everything of her. She doesn’t feel like herself.
“I…” She hesitates. She doesn’t know what to say – she doesn’t know how she feels. (It’s something she thought she’d forgotten, or given up on.) She doesn’t want to falter, in front of him. Seraphina doesn’t wish to appear weak, as though the succumbing would be a sort of admission. (It might open the floodgates, untwine the little bits of her that remain all tangled up and defensive and certain. She needs to be certain.) In truth, she’s not familiar enough with the landscape of her own emotions to know exactly what she’s experiencing. “I think that I am…disappointed. I thought that it would be different,” She admits, but she doesn’t know how - in some intangible, inexplicable way, she supposes, “but it wasn’t. I thought that they would give us answers, but I only have more questions.” And she needs answers. If change is coming to Novus, change that could endanger her nation so soon after the Davke attack, she needs to be able to prepare for it. (But that isn’t the only question she wants answered, is it? If they wanted to interfere now, why couldn’t they have interfered during Zolin’s reign of terror? Why did they let her people suffer? Why were they silent? Why-) They will have to remain, she knows, until they find some semblance of an answer on the sacred peak; Caligo’s statue is gone, and, having seen Tempus’s, she can only assume what that means. For now, she waits.
“How are you? It cannot be easy to…stumble into the conflicts of our pantheon.” She’s never asked him about his land’s gods, she thinks, if he has any at all; she knows that his people didn’t read or write, and they didn’t have great structures and walls, but she doesn’t think that any of those markers have anything to do with religion. She realizes, sometimes, that she doesn’t know the people around her – now matter how close she considers them – much at all. It was only during her promotion to Regent that she learned anything of Bexley’s background, and Eik…
She has gathered that his past is painful, but she hasn’t asked. He hasn’t asked about hers, either, but she doesn’t know what she’d tell him if he did, so she thinks that she’s been grateful for the silence. It isn’t something that you really want to know, just something that you think that you want to know - and it isn’t something that you can forget once you know it. It’s a history that defines her, after all; she doesn’t like letting others know it. It’s confining, like being stuffed into a box. However, her thoughts aren’t on her own story – they are on Eik’s. Much like the Regimes of Dusk and Night, Eik seems to have accepted the gods’ behavior with a bizarre sense of calm. She knows that they can’t mean to him what they mean to her, but she would have expected Divinity itself to be unexpected, particularly to a man so prone to questioning.
Apparently, she is wrong.
Apparently, she doesn’t know him as well as she once thought.
(But, then, she feels a fire still raging inside of her, all teeth and ready to bite. Perhaps she doesn't know anything as well as she once thought.)
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tags | @
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
