☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
and I'm faded away
you know, I used to be on fire
“A long time ago, I thought I knew.”
And wasn’t that line bitterly familiar? The silver queen remembers when she took her crown; so many of her memories were fuzzy, discolored by trauma and disbelief, but that one remains vivid, the way the light refracted through the stained-glass windows that would be shattered beyond repair when the Davke attacked only months later…
She thought that she could do it. (Viceroy hadn’t stripped the childish naivete and overconfidence from her in its entirety, apparently.) She thought that she knew what she wanted. She thought that she could fix it – she didn’t think that it would be easy, but she didn’t think that it would be so hard.
She didn’t say anything. She listened.
"But I am not that woman anymore. Now, I am no-one and so I have nothing to seek."
She wished that she had an easy response to that admission.
She stepped forward – drew closer to her side. She didn’t know if her presence, much less her proximity, was any comfort; she’d been told that she was a more imposing presence than anything. She did not look at Rhoswen; she stared out towards the haze of light, and she tried to find the right words to say. You aren’t no-one. You’re far from it. There is so much left of you; there is so much you can do. She was loathe to consider anyone a lost cause, but she hesitated too long, – as usual – and Rhoswen was speaking again.
"Seraphina, I don't want you to ever forgive me."
Seraphina considered Rhoswen, rolled her words around on the tip of her tongue and contemplated her response. Had she forgiven Rhoswen? (It was a more immediate concern than whether or not Rhoswen wanted her to forgive her.) She didn’t give forgiveness (much like respect) freely, and, really, had Rhoswen done anything to deserve it yet? She’d suffered for her betrayal, certainly, but Seraphina knew as well as anyone (and perhaps better than most) that suffering wasn’t the equivalent of redemption. However, though she’d let a metaphorical fox into a henhouse, she hadn’t directly caused the harm that had come about as a result. There was responsibility there, certainly. She had done something wrong; there had been consequences.
Were the consequences enough to offset the betrayal? She didn’t have an easy answer prepared.
Like most emotions of much depth or consequence, she found herself at a disadvantage; she didn’t – perhaps couldn’t – understand. Her only great love affair was with the sun-swept land she called her home, and the notion of being torn between obligation to her nation and obligation to something else – to family or to love – was impassibly alien. Anyone or anything that hoped to find a place in the silver’s heart, however small, would be forced to confront the knowledge that they would permanently be second. She didn’t know, but, she supposed, she could listen. She could try.
“Why?” She decided, finally, her eyes still cast out on the horizon.
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tags | @Rhoswen
notes | ;~; rhos
and I'm faded away
you know, I used to be on fire
“A long time ago, I thought I knew.”
And wasn’t that line bitterly familiar? The silver queen remembers when she took her crown; so many of her memories were fuzzy, discolored by trauma and disbelief, but that one remains vivid, the way the light refracted through the stained-glass windows that would be shattered beyond repair when the Davke attacked only months later…
She thought that she could do it. (Viceroy hadn’t stripped the childish naivete and overconfidence from her in its entirety, apparently.) She thought that she knew what she wanted. She thought that she could fix it – she didn’t think that it would be easy, but she didn’t think that it would be so hard.
She didn’t say anything. She listened.
"But I am not that woman anymore. Now, I am no-one and so I have nothing to seek."
She wished that she had an easy response to that admission.
She stepped forward – drew closer to her side. She didn’t know if her presence, much less her proximity, was any comfort; she’d been told that she was a more imposing presence than anything. She did not look at Rhoswen; she stared out towards the haze of light, and she tried to find the right words to say. You aren’t no-one. You’re far from it. There is so much left of you; there is so much you can do. She was loathe to consider anyone a lost cause, but she hesitated too long, – as usual – and Rhoswen was speaking again.
"Seraphina, I don't want you to ever forgive me."
Seraphina considered Rhoswen, rolled her words around on the tip of her tongue and contemplated her response. Had she forgiven Rhoswen? (It was a more immediate concern than whether or not Rhoswen wanted her to forgive her.) She didn’t give forgiveness (much like respect) freely, and, really, had Rhoswen done anything to deserve it yet? She’d suffered for her betrayal, certainly, but Seraphina knew as well as anyone (and perhaps better than most) that suffering wasn’t the equivalent of redemption. However, though she’d let a metaphorical fox into a henhouse, she hadn’t directly caused the harm that had come about as a result. There was responsibility there, certainly. She had done something wrong; there had been consequences.
Were the consequences enough to offset the betrayal? She didn’t have an easy answer prepared.
Like most emotions of much depth or consequence, she found herself at a disadvantage; she didn’t – perhaps couldn’t – understand. Her only great love affair was with the sun-swept land she called her home, and the notion of being torn between obligation to her nation and obligation to something else – to family or to love – was impassibly alien. Anyone or anything that hoped to find a place in the silver’s heart, however small, would be forced to confront the knowledge that they would permanently be second. She didn’t know, but, she supposed, she could listen. She could try.
“Why?” She decided, finally, her eyes still cast out on the horizon.
----------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Rhoswen
notes | ;~; rhos
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
