☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
Unbeknownst (or, perhaps, entirely known) to the sun god, the silver was in fact at her books again – though she was damn near tearing the pages out with frustration.
Always something, isn’t it?
That was her problem, she thought, always expecting to find some sort of mathematical solution even when hell had frozen over. If there was anything that she should have learned from all of this – from gods returning to life and the entire land uprooting itself – it was that there was not always a solution, or, at the very least, not one that could be found tucked between the yellowed, ash-scented pages of history. She had hoped, against her better judgement, that she would stumble upon some poorly-cited historical incident where the Day Court had been covered in ice and snow for some inconceivable reason, and that might lead her to some sort of answer, some way to fix things -
But there were no answers to be found, and, as she stared down at a page that she was sure she’d scanned half a dozen times already, a sense of futility settled in her stomach like a stone.
They were fine, but…
The three patrols she’d sent out to the Mors hadn’t come back.
She wouldn’t send any more of them to their deaths. Had they simply become lost in the snow? But the warriors of Solterra were accustomed to finding their way in the endless monotony of desert sands – surely, in a group, she hoped that her warriors were competent enough to navigate their way back home. The other, more sickening possibility was that something waited for them in the snow. (For a moment, the paradoxical lash of flame burnt at her withers, then nothing. She could taste blood in her mouth.) One thing was perfectly clear to her: they couldn’t remain holed up behind the walls of the court forever.
She flipped the cover of the leather-bound tome in front of her closed, looking away dismissively. New problems required new solutions. It was her job to find them.
(But, gods, if it wouldn’t help to have some sort of fire magic – or magic at all – at the moment. It wasn’t as though they could simply shovel out the blizzard on their doorstep.)
Ears twitching back to lie flat against her skull, she breezed out of the library and into the frigid cold that had consumed the battlements. Freezing wind twined through the snow-white of her hair, catching in the pale, lurid sunlight; she let a shiver run her spine. The landscape was unrecognizable, each familiar ridge and contour and distant silhouette swallowed up in a sea of snow – as much as the smooth sandstone, slick with ice, beneath her hooves told her that she was home, it felt as though she were in some other world.
Her eyes, instinctively, sought the glow of the sun without quite staring into it. She still wasn’t sure if he could hear their prayers, much less if they were thought rather than spoken aloud, but...he was around. She knew that much, had felt his warmth at her side and remembered the gold sheen of his sides as well if it were yesterday. It couldn’t hurt.
Solis. Do you have some idea of how to fix this? I’ve…found nothing, and I’m running short on ideas. Short of setting the entire court (or realm) ablaze, anyhow.
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notes | a post? seems unrealistic. anyways, seraphina is alive, and, shockingly...has her nose buried in a book.
tags | open <3
Always something, isn’t it?
That was her problem, she thought, always expecting to find some sort of mathematical solution even when hell had frozen over. If there was anything that she should have learned from all of this – from gods returning to life and the entire land uprooting itself – it was that there was not always a solution, or, at the very least, not one that could be found tucked between the yellowed, ash-scented pages of history. She had hoped, against her better judgement, that she would stumble upon some poorly-cited historical incident where the Day Court had been covered in ice and snow for some inconceivable reason, and that might lead her to some sort of answer, some way to fix things -
But there were no answers to be found, and, as she stared down at a page that she was sure she’d scanned half a dozen times already, a sense of futility settled in her stomach like a stone.
They were fine, but…
The three patrols she’d sent out to the Mors hadn’t come back.
She wouldn’t send any more of them to their deaths. Had they simply become lost in the snow? But the warriors of Solterra were accustomed to finding their way in the endless monotony of desert sands – surely, in a group, she hoped that her warriors were competent enough to navigate their way back home. The other, more sickening possibility was that something waited for them in the snow. (For a moment, the paradoxical lash of flame burnt at her withers, then nothing. She could taste blood in her mouth.) One thing was perfectly clear to her: they couldn’t remain holed up behind the walls of the court forever.
She flipped the cover of the leather-bound tome in front of her closed, looking away dismissively. New problems required new solutions. It was her job to find them.
(But, gods, if it wouldn’t help to have some sort of fire magic – or magic at all – at the moment. It wasn’t as though they could simply shovel out the blizzard on their doorstep.)
Ears twitching back to lie flat against her skull, she breezed out of the library and into the frigid cold that had consumed the battlements. Freezing wind twined through the snow-white of her hair, catching in the pale, lurid sunlight; she let a shiver run her spine. The landscape was unrecognizable, each familiar ridge and contour and distant silhouette swallowed up in a sea of snow – as much as the smooth sandstone, slick with ice, beneath her hooves told her that she was home, it felt as though she were in some other world.
Her eyes, instinctively, sought the glow of the sun without quite staring into it. She still wasn’t sure if he could hear their prayers, much less if they were thought rather than spoken aloud, but...he was around. She knew that much, had felt his warmth at her side and remembered the gold sheen of his sides as well if it were yesterday. It couldn’t hurt.
Solis. Do you have some idea of how to fix this? I’ve…found nothing, and I’m running short on ideas. Short of setting the entire court (or realm) ablaze, anyhow.
--------------------
notes | a post? seems unrealistic. anyways, seraphina is alive, and, shockingly...has her nose buried in a book.
tags | open <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
