Her hooves sunk in the sand – wet and clumping and dull, unlike the brilliant, soft red-gold of Solterra. Seraphina stood at the edge of the ocean, just far enough for the surf to lap amicably at her hooves. When she had traveled Novus at Viceroy’s side as a young girl, she had wondered what laid beyond Novus’s shores; Viceroy came from across the sea, she knew, but he had arrived in Novus as a youth, “drenched and bedraggled, wings completely broken,” if stories were to be believed. He’d never been willing to talk about his homeland, and she’d never been willing to press. She had been a curious child, and fearless at first, though he’d quickly corrected those parts of her – Seraphina had wondered about her mentor, vicious and abrasive as he was, and how he’d come to be, but she had always been scared to ask.
Sometimes she wondered if it was the idea of an answer that scared her most of all.
Washed in the pale grey-green foam and chilled gently by the salt-soaked wind, she could practically imagine him hovering over her shoulder, fiery halo exuding a threatening warmth across the space of her back. “Is this the first time you’ve ever seen the sea?” He’d asked, that familiar, smug not-quite-smile plastered across his lips as though it were etched into marble. Viceroy was always smiling with his lips, but she’d soon learned that smile meant absolutely nothing and never carried to his eyes anyways – that no display was guaranteed to be genuine. The ocean had become the border of everything for Seraphina. Those great, tumultuous waves that thrashed and bobbed on the edge of the horizon were the end of the world, and she would never pass them. (And sometimes, just sometimes, she had wanted to.)
She shook her head, reminding herself that she hadn’t come here to reminisce on Viceroy. Seraphina could see a froth of grey on the horizon, the ominous, creeping expanses of stormclouds that hung like a mantle on the edge of the sky – a hint of a threat. It wouldn’t take long for the storm to reach where she stood on the beach, pastern-deep in foaming, milkgreen sea. It would be best to be on the cliffs before then, just in case the storm came with lightning, so, shaking off her reminiscing like a snake shedding its skin, she turned on heel and retreated in the direction she came; she hadn’t taken more than four steps, however, before she found her gaze distracted by something pale and pearly in the sand. Seraphina took a short detour to pull it from its half-buried state, jaws clamping loosely around a rather oddly-shaped shell that gleamed with hints of the rainbow when the – faint – light hit it correctly. She wasn’t sure of what to do with it, but she carried it between her teeth nonetheless as she scaled the cliffside from which she’d entered the beach in the first place, wandering precariously up the narrow, rocky passage that led to the top of the rocky cliffs, coated in a thin, fine layer of dry, tall grasses that smacked up against her legs as the wind began to whip.
(A flicker of memory, cutting through the fragments of her childhood unprompted -
“The wind is making your flames dance,” She’d said, eyeing them cheerfully. Viceroy had fixed her with a tired stare, bloodshot eyes narrowed with exasperation.
“Dance?” He’d questioned, tone flat as ever. It wasn’t really a question.
“Like butterflies,” She’d explained helpfully, tilting her head to stare at his flickering halo of flames. They were beautiful. “Like butterflies caught in a storm.”)
She deposited the shell at the ground near her hooves just as the rain began, wind and water freeing her mane of its tight braids and setting it loose to dribble down her neck – there was something refreshing about the rain, something freeing in its influence. Even her collar seemed to grow slicker with her coat, a little easier to breathe in. Wind and rain pelted her, but she did not move from her solitary, stone-like position, eyes cast on the very edge of the horizon, where great waves of dark blue rose and fell rhythmically with each weighty gust.
@whoever || this was initially going to be a reply/start to a relic thread, but...anyways I had it halfway done so I figured I should toss it up /shrugs dramatically/ have some pointless rambling and more little Viceroy snippets I guess
Sometimes she wondered if it was the idea of an answer that scared her most of all.
Washed in the pale grey-green foam and chilled gently by the salt-soaked wind, she could practically imagine him hovering over her shoulder, fiery halo exuding a threatening warmth across the space of her back. “Is this the first time you’ve ever seen the sea?” He’d asked, that familiar, smug not-quite-smile plastered across his lips as though it were etched into marble. Viceroy was always smiling with his lips, but she’d soon learned that smile meant absolutely nothing and never carried to his eyes anyways – that no display was guaranteed to be genuine. The ocean had become the border of everything for Seraphina. Those great, tumultuous waves that thrashed and bobbed on the edge of the horizon were the end of the world, and she would never pass them. (And sometimes, just sometimes, she had wanted to.)
She shook her head, reminding herself that she hadn’t come here to reminisce on Viceroy. Seraphina could see a froth of grey on the horizon, the ominous, creeping expanses of stormclouds that hung like a mantle on the edge of the sky – a hint of a threat. It wouldn’t take long for the storm to reach where she stood on the beach, pastern-deep in foaming, milkgreen sea. It would be best to be on the cliffs before then, just in case the storm came with lightning, so, shaking off her reminiscing like a snake shedding its skin, she turned on heel and retreated in the direction she came; she hadn’t taken more than four steps, however, before she found her gaze distracted by something pale and pearly in the sand. Seraphina took a short detour to pull it from its half-buried state, jaws clamping loosely around a rather oddly-shaped shell that gleamed with hints of the rainbow when the – faint – light hit it correctly. She wasn’t sure of what to do with it, but she carried it between her teeth nonetheless as she scaled the cliffside from which she’d entered the beach in the first place, wandering precariously up the narrow, rocky passage that led to the top of the rocky cliffs, coated in a thin, fine layer of dry, tall grasses that smacked up against her legs as the wind began to whip.
(A flicker of memory, cutting through the fragments of her childhood unprompted -
“The wind is making your flames dance,” She’d said, eyeing them cheerfully. Viceroy had fixed her with a tired stare, bloodshot eyes narrowed with exasperation.
“Dance?” He’d questioned, tone flat as ever. It wasn’t really a question.
“Like butterflies,” She’d explained helpfully, tilting her head to stare at his flickering halo of flames. They were beautiful. “Like butterflies caught in a storm.”)
She deposited the shell at the ground near her hooves just as the rain began, wind and water freeing her mane of its tight braids and setting it loose to dribble down her neck – there was something refreshing about the rain, something freeing in its influence. Even her collar seemed to grow slicker with her coat, a little easier to breathe in. Wind and rain pelted her, but she did not move from her solitary, stone-like position, eyes cast on the very edge of the horizon, where great waves of dark blue rose and fell rhythmically with each weighty gust.
@whoever || this was initially going to be a reply/start to a relic thread, but...anyways I had it halfway done so I figured I should toss it up /shrugs dramatically/ have some pointless rambling and more little Viceroy snippets I guess
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
