Fire, dark and burning bright
Bright as day, yet, gives no light
In the shadows of the night
Bright as day, yet, gives no light
In the shadows of the night
Teiran is all militaristic, sharp movements and hard angles as she stalks her way down the quickly snow covering streets. She has no thought for gods, or damnation, just that like in any disaster, she has a job to do. A job to protect her the people of Solterra. This may not be a threat she has any familiarity to, but she will face a threat all the same: head on.
The snow falls harder and quicker, blanketing everything. Soon, Solterra will no longer be golden and sun streaked, but frosted and snow covered. Already she can feel the chill of it on her skin, and the way it crunches under foot is a bizarre sensation compared to the shifting surface of the sands she is so used to. As she walks, she sees faces she recognized. Bexley, directing dumbstruck citizens to their houses, and then Seraphina, shouting orders that immediately give Teiran a purpose.
She is moving quickly, pulling a torch from the wall, climbing the stairs and setting the braziers closest to her alight. As they come to life, more are lit around the wall that she can see. She imagines more will be lit too that she cannot see through the growing blizzard. For a moment she pauses, looking out over the desert beyond the wall. Desert it is no longer as the minutes pass. Soon, too soon, it will be a winter wasteland.
How many will be lost? How many more will be taken from this kingdom?
The warrior’s jaw tightens and she turns, knowing that out there she will be as lost as anyone else, but in here she knows where to direct others to safety and warmth. She is perhaps even more robotic in the chill, like a machine whose gears don’t turn quite as quickly as they should. She feels no fear, no worry and it is wrong. This is wrong.
Teiran does not bark orders, does not shout above the din like Bexley. She arrives in shadows, sage green eyes as cold as the air has become, and leads the frightened and shocked through the streets to their homes like a ghostly, silent guide. She works efficiently and as quickly as she can. She tells them to start fires and to find the warmest coverings they have. She tells them to stay inside no matter what, and irregardless of her own warnings she continues to pace through the streets, searching for every last citizen she can find.
The snow falls harder and quicker, blanketing everything. Soon, Solterra will no longer be golden and sun streaked, but frosted and snow covered. Already she can feel the chill of it on her skin, and the way it crunches under foot is a bizarre sensation compared to the shifting surface of the sands she is so used to. As she walks, she sees faces she recognized. Bexley, directing dumbstruck citizens to their houses, and then Seraphina, shouting orders that immediately give Teiran a purpose.
She is moving quickly, pulling a torch from the wall, climbing the stairs and setting the braziers closest to her alight. As they come to life, more are lit around the wall that she can see. She imagines more will be lit too that she cannot see through the growing blizzard. For a moment she pauses, looking out over the desert beyond the wall. Desert it is no longer as the minutes pass. Soon, too soon, it will be a winter wasteland.
How many will be lost? How many more will be taken from this kingdom?
The warrior’s jaw tightens and she turns, knowing that out there she will be as lost as anyone else, but in here she knows where to direct others to safety and warmth. She is perhaps even more robotic in the chill, like a machine whose gears don’t turn quite as quickly as they should. She feels no fear, no worry and it is wrong. This is wrong.
Teiran does not bark orders, does not shout above the din like Bexley. She arrives in shadows, sage green eyes as cold as the air has become, and leads the frightened and shocked through the streets to their homes like a ghostly, silent guide. She works efficiently and as quickly as she can. She tells them to start fires and to find the warmest coverings they have. She tells them to stay inside no matter what, and irregardless of her own warnings she continues to pace through the streets, searching for every last citizen she can find.
ooc things
