☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
He did little to quell his temper, even as she stepped into his field of vision. Seraphina had learned to expect that – her own words to a Denoctian traveler still rang in her mind. (“The desert breeds quick tempers.” That felt like it was so very long ago, before she ever wore this crown. It had only been a few months; she didn’t know that could feel like a lifetime.) She watched his lips curl in silence, the lashing of his tails, his dual sighs. Whatever he was angry over was of no real relevance to Seraphina; her only priority was keeping him from dying among the sands. After a moment, he offered a reply, his tone a bit more measured than she had initially anticipated. “Only if you wander without direction,” She replied, somewhat enigmatically, after considering his words for just a moment; how did one wander with direction? What she meant, of course, was that one should never wander the Mors blind. If the shifting sands were as familiar to you as the contours of your own face, then you could wander wherever your hooves might guide you without ever growing lost. However, this was clearly not the case for him.
He watched her for what felt like a long time in a silence that she made no effort to break, and, as his eyes continued to linger on her – though whatever they were seeing felt very far away – she did not break her gaze. After several long moments, he seemed to remember what he was doing, and he quickly averted his burning, opalescent gaze, a look of something akin to embarrassment scurrying across his pale features. He remarked on the heat, and she raised her brows at him, distinctly unimpressed. “It’s always hot here.” It was a desert, after all, and not a cold one – Solis’s violent rays scalded every inch of the rolling landscape to a blaze. Best to warn him ahead of time, she supposed, that, even in the autumn and the winter, the Mors were still suffocating. (And, in the summers, unless you were very skilled and very accustomed to the burning pain of murderous heat, it was best to leave your work and travelling for the night.) “If you don’t know that, you must be new…” She trailed off, considering him with her mismatched stare. “I am Seraphina. Who are you, stranger?” Perhaps he would recognize her name, and perhaps he would not. It was of little concern to the silver. Either way, there was a clear hint of authority in her tone, though not suspicion. Whoever this furious creature was, he was clearly Solterran.
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tags | @El Toro
notes | <3
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
He did little to quell his temper, even as she stepped into his field of vision. Seraphina had learned to expect that – her own words to a Denoctian traveler still rang in her mind. (“The desert breeds quick tempers.” That felt like it was so very long ago, before she ever wore this crown. It had only been a few months; she didn’t know that could feel like a lifetime.) She watched his lips curl in silence, the lashing of his tails, his dual sighs. Whatever he was angry over was of no real relevance to Seraphina; her only priority was keeping him from dying among the sands. After a moment, he offered a reply, his tone a bit more measured than she had initially anticipated. “Only if you wander without direction,” She replied, somewhat enigmatically, after considering his words for just a moment; how did one wander with direction? What she meant, of course, was that one should never wander the Mors blind. If the shifting sands were as familiar to you as the contours of your own face, then you could wander wherever your hooves might guide you without ever growing lost. However, this was clearly not the case for him.
He watched her for what felt like a long time in a silence that she made no effort to break, and, as his eyes continued to linger on her – though whatever they were seeing felt very far away – she did not break her gaze. After several long moments, he seemed to remember what he was doing, and he quickly averted his burning, opalescent gaze, a look of something akin to embarrassment scurrying across his pale features. He remarked on the heat, and she raised her brows at him, distinctly unimpressed. “It’s always hot here.” It was a desert, after all, and not a cold one – Solis’s violent rays scalded every inch of the rolling landscape to a blaze. Best to warn him ahead of time, she supposed, that, even in the autumn and the winter, the Mors were still suffocating. (And, in the summers, unless you were very skilled and very accustomed to the burning pain of murderous heat, it was best to leave your work and travelling for the night.) “If you don’t know that, you must be new…” She trailed off, considering him with her mismatched stare. “I am Seraphina. Who are you, stranger?” Perhaps he would recognize her name, and perhaps he would not. It was of little concern to the silver. Either way, there was a clear hint of authority in her tone, though not suspicion. Whoever this furious creature was, he was clearly Solterran.
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tags | @El Toro
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
