See the dead on the cover of a magazine
See my smile, it was born from amphetamines
See my smile, it was born from amphetamines
Teiran hadn't considered the fact that perhaps the reason nobody was out wandering the court was because they were afraid. Teiran didn't really understand fear. Maybe, she thought, she had felt it once, but the only things she remembered with any certainty were things. Hunger, pain, exhaustion. Everything else was lost, shut behind a wall that either would not or could not be scaled. Fear, she thought, explained some things, if it meant the people were expecting another attack.
She was not afraid. If there were to be another attack she would only come back fiercer, fight harder. Teiran would do whatever it took to keep this Court safe. Regardless, "No, there has been no sign of the Davke, although I do not intend to let my guard down." Her sage green eyes, often cold, were sharp like the point of the dagger she chose to fight with. Her sovereign's compliment is like rain, landing gently and running off her, and Teiran does not quite know how to reply, how to take the gentleness. In the end, she nods rather stiffly in recognition.
It is Seraphina's next words that seem to, at last, get some sort of reaction from her, as though proving she is not simply a flawed machine. Her gaze shifts, widening a fraction as the state of the library is laid before her. The rosy warrior follows her Queen through the rubble, stepping over what she guesses are remains of tables, bookshelves, pages. "I will get the job done," she says, whatever it is, she thinks. Perhaps she should reassure the silver woman of her trustworthiness, but it does not occur to her to. Her statement is all the reassurance she thinks is necessary.
The large iron door is opened and beyond it lies darkness with only flickering torches to light their way. Seraphina is silent and Teiran does not speak as they make their way down the staircase, eventually stepping into a small chamber. Her eyes alight on the scrolls and parchments and other pieces scattered about and she thinks she knows what has happened here. Something like a smile flickers across her face, barely there before it is gone again, fleeting. "You?" she guessed, for who else than the very one who had set fire to the library in the first place.
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