☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
AS A GIRL, I WAITED PATIENTLY TO CATCH FIRE
as if it were something worth wanting
The memory of the teryr is enough to make her ears twitch back, her eyes narrowing fractionally. The teryr had gone down, yes, but she had been concussed and shredded for weeks to follow. A stroll along the beach? Oh, but she knows the stories of what washes up on the shores of the Terminus, of shape-changing monsters with rolling black eyes that dripped water so dark that it could be mistaken for ink…she knows – she has to know – that nothing in Solterra is quite so beautiful or innocent as it might seem at first glance. She arches her dark brows at him skeptically, her lips still tugged into that ever-present frown.
She takes another count of the others that have gathered. Teiran is met with a swift dip of her head, as is Basileios; she glances over El Toro, but his eyes are trained on the god, and she makes no attempt to catch his gaze. With something like dull shock, she spots the brutish form of Torstein, and she meets his gaze coolly, wordlessly, before she turns away. She doesn’t really have anything to say to him, does she? (Or perhaps she does; regardless, now is not the time for it.) She feels Eik before she actually catches sight of him, the faint warmth of his magic as much of a comfort as it is disconcerting. (For she still remembers the last time she knew a man who could reach into minds – she still remembers his halo of flames and sadistic golden eyes.) Satisfied with her accounting, her gaze returns to Solis.
The sun god is impatient, – but when isn’t he? – and she quickens her strides to keep his pace, lingering just a few feet aside his hind legs. She wouldn’t, in contrast, consider what is currently surging through her veins anticipation, but neither is it fear or nerves. It is something as familiar as the act of breathing, but it is not anticipation. Adrenaline, maybe, raw energy. Her heart flutters in her chest like a caged-up bird, beating at the bars. She watches the sun god all the while as he speaks of their quarry, and she feels her brow furrow. Elk, or something like them. Blue, feathered elk that breathed out chill enough to form a blizzard. She might have laughed (though Seraphina is hardly the laughing type) at the somewhat ridiculous image they procured, were it not for the certainty of sharp, freezing antlers – sharp enough to tear flesh, certainly, to gore throats. And gods only knew how large the creatures were, if the simple act of breathing was enough to cause a blizzard.
“In fact, they almost remind me of you, my dear queen. Cold, but strong.” His next words are an unmistakable jab, if a playful one, and she bites back the sudden urge to roll her eyes or glare as his scalding gaze rolls back to rest on her. “That doesn’t complicate things for you, does it?” The weather is colder, now, and any semblance of clarity is slowly beginning to fall victim to snow. Cold wind swirls around her frame, and she swallows a shiver and draws a step closer to Solis; she is a desert creature, and she has little tolerance for cold. “Of course not,” she says, dryly, meeting his gaze. “Surely the resemblance could not be striking enough to tug at my heartstrings-“ (As if she really had them.) “-How could it, if I am dear to a god? Unless, I suppose, you’re partial to feathered Cervidae.” Again her brows raise, and, in spite of her entirely apathetic tone, there is more than a hint of a similar jest in her response.
Her gaze rolls off the god and trains itself on the blizzard in front of them. She narrows her eyes as they come to a halt on what might have been a tall, imposing form…or, perhaps, a mere trick of the light.
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notes | is that............humor? from seraphina? lies. slander. libel.
tag | @Random Events
AS A GIRL, I WAITED PATIENTLY TO CATCH FIRE
as if it were something worth wanting
The memory of the teryr is enough to make her ears twitch back, her eyes narrowing fractionally. The teryr had gone down, yes, but she had been concussed and shredded for weeks to follow. A stroll along the beach? Oh, but she knows the stories of what washes up on the shores of the Terminus, of shape-changing monsters with rolling black eyes that dripped water so dark that it could be mistaken for ink…she knows – she has to know – that nothing in Solterra is quite so beautiful or innocent as it might seem at first glance. She arches her dark brows at him skeptically, her lips still tugged into that ever-present frown.
She takes another count of the others that have gathered. Teiran is met with a swift dip of her head, as is Basileios; she glances over El Toro, but his eyes are trained on the god, and she makes no attempt to catch his gaze. With something like dull shock, she spots the brutish form of Torstein, and she meets his gaze coolly, wordlessly, before she turns away. She doesn’t really have anything to say to him, does she? (Or perhaps she does; regardless, now is not the time for it.) She feels Eik before she actually catches sight of him, the faint warmth of his magic as much of a comfort as it is disconcerting. (For she still remembers the last time she knew a man who could reach into minds – she still remembers his halo of flames and sadistic golden eyes.) Satisfied with her accounting, her gaze returns to Solis.
The sun god is impatient, – but when isn’t he? – and she quickens her strides to keep his pace, lingering just a few feet aside his hind legs. She wouldn’t, in contrast, consider what is currently surging through her veins anticipation, but neither is it fear or nerves. It is something as familiar as the act of breathing, but it is not anticipation. Adrenaline, maybe, raw energy. Her heart flutters in her chest like a caged-up bird, beating at the bars. She watches the sun god all the while as he speaks of their quarry, and she feels her brow furrow. Elk, or something like them. Blue, feathered elk that breathed out chill enough to form a blizzard. She might have laughed (though Seraphina is hardly the laughing type) at the somewhat ridiculous image they procured, were it not for the certainty of sharp, freezing antlers – sharp enough to tear flesh, certainly, to gore throats. And gods only knew how large the creatures were, if the simple act of breathing was enough to cause a blizzard.
“In fact, they almost remind me of you, my dear queen. Cold, but strong.” His next words are an unmistakable jab, if a playful one, and she bites back the sudden urge to roll her eyes or glare as his scalding gaze rolls back to rest on her. “That doesn’t complicate things for you, does it?” The weather is colder, now, and any semblance of clarity is slowly beginning to fall victim to snow. Cold wind swirls around her frame, and she swallows a shiver and draws a step closer to Solis; she is a desert creature, and she has little tolerance for cold. “Of course not,” she says, dryly, meeting his gaze. “Surely the resemblance could not be striking enough to tug at my heartstrings-“ (As if she really had them.) “-How could it, if I am dear to a god? Unless, I suppose, you’re partial to feathered Cervidae.” Again her brows raise, and, in spite of her entirely apathetic tone, there is more than a hint of a similar jest in her response.
Her gaze rolls off the god and trains itself on the blizzard in front of them. She narrows her eyes as they come to a halt on what might have been a tall, imposing form…or, perhaps, a mere trick of the light.
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notes | is that............humor? from seraphina? lies. slander. libel.
tag | @Random Events
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
