When you come undone, I'll carry your chains
So you can feel freedom and a little less pain
For all that she would learn in their time together, her and the current sovereign, there under the waning sun as the moon was already high on the rise, she would have almost wished she'd never went back.
But, really, what other choice would she have had?
Her path there to the foot of the tower, the one she once knew so well and occupied as its head, was ingrained so deeply in her memory that she could have gotten there blindfolded despite the slight terrain change along the way. The atmosphere itself, however, was bleak; few wandered the grounds, and hardly a face passed her during her trek across the outlying territories. She hunched from the weight of her failures, and they drooped with her, but she didn't know why. Perhaps more had changed than she thought while she was away, at least the past year slipping by without much hesitation or second's remorse. She didn't know what else she would have expected to happen, maybe for things to flourish where she had only withered them?
As she stood defeated, her coat was limp and she nearly trembled from guilt. It was sure to eat her alive there on the spot, in front of... no one since the court was empty. But the lack of others only made her feel worse, not better, and so when she called for Florentine she was at least pleased one face poked out to receive her message. It flitted away as quickly as it appeared, gone into the gaping halls of the castle. She felt like a stranger, like she didn't belong there, the empty husk all that remained of a once-Queen who seemed destined to piece their court back together so long ago... and then was part of the reason it fell apart. Maybe she had no hand in what happened, but in the end she would always blame herself.
Footfalls pulled her head up to the open doorway of the tower, hooves striking against stone in a strict staccato that wrapped around the protective barrier of her heart. She expected the small, winged girl she left the crown to, the brightly painted golden child who found a spot inside of Rann that she could not shake her out of. She expected the flood of emotions to roll in like a tidal wave and flood her with things she couldn't contain. She did not expect Asterion.
He went to her as she stood with soft shock blossoming in her chest, equal in height, in stature, in the sense of failure they carried with them. The touch against her skin sent a small shiver down her spine, though he wouldn't have been able to see it; she hadn't been in contact with anyone for months, and he wasn't known well enough by her for it to be comforting. He bowed his head, and before she could speak to tell him no, to tell him to not do that, to tell him anything, his voice broke through their void and her thoughts began to race. Florentine was no longer Queen; she could have proposed to herself that that would have been plausible, but it never crossed her mind before then. For some reason she had only believe Flora would be sitting on the throne, and so the news rattled her. It might have been visible in her eyes.
"Asterion..." His name came easily--she never forgot a face--and she stared into the spaces his stars occupied in his skin. "Where is she?" At first it started broken, his name cracking around her words, then it grew with vigor and her question almost seemed like a demand to be answered. But she was still somewhere, far from where they were, as though her mind and body were two different entities in that moment. Was the small flower girl she once knew hurt? Why would she pass the crown to another? Had she left?
She came back to them then, the murkiness in her eyes snapping back into focus. She glanced around, at the quiet, at the slightly rugged look the Dusk Court had developed since she left. "What happened here?" It was thin again, her voice, accent barely lilting while she appeared defeated by a monster neither could see. A pause, and then, "And I am Rannveig no longer. I do not deserve such title. I am Silanos, name given to a girl with nothing."
The name given to a girl who would amount to nothing.
But, really, what other choice would she have had?
Her path there to the foot of the tower, the one she once knew so well and occupied as its head, was ingrained so deeply in her memory that she could have gotten there blindfolded despite the slight terrain change along the way. The atmosphere itself, however, was bleak; few wandered the grounds, and hardly a face passed her during her trek across the outlying territories. She hunched from the weight of her failures, and they drooped with her, but she didn't know why. Perhaps more had changed than she thought while she was away, at least the past year slipping by without much hesitation or second's remorse. She didn't know what else she would have expected to happen, maybe for things to flourish where she had only withered them?
As she stood defeated, her coat was limp and she nearly trembled from guilt. It was sure to eat her alive there on the spot, in front of... no one since the court was empty. But the lack of others only made her feel worse, not better, and so when she called for Florentine she was at least pleased one face poked out to receive her message. It flitted away as quickly as it appeared, gone into the gaping halls of the castle. She felt like a stranger, like she didn't belong there, the empty husk all that remained of a once-Queen who seemed destined to piece their court back together so long ago... and then was part of the reason it fell apart. Maybe she had no hand in what happened, but in the end she would always blame herself.
Footfalls pulled her head up to the open doorway of the tower, hooves striking against stone in a strict staccato that wrapped around the protective barrier of her heart. She expected the small, winged girl she left the crown to, the brightly painted golden child who found a spot inside of Rann that she could not shake her out of. She expected the flood of emotions to roll in like a tidal wave and flood her with things she couldn't contain. She did not expect Asterion.
He went to her as she stood with soft shock blossoming in her chest, equal in height, in stature, in the sense of failure they carried with them. The touch against her skin sent a small shiver down her spine, though he wouldn't have been able to see it; she hadn't been in contact with anyone for months, and he wasn't known well enough by her for it to be comforting. He bowed his head, and before she could speak to tell him no, to tell him to not do that, to tell him anything, his voice broke through their void and her thoughts began to race. Florentine was no longer Queen; she could have proposed to herself that that would have been plausible, but it never crossed her mind before then. For some reason she had only believe Flora would be sitting on the throne, and so the news rattled her. It might have been visible in her eyes.
"Asterion..." His name came easily--she never forgot a face--and she stared into the spaces his stars occupied in his skin. "Where is she?" At first it started broken, his name cracking around her words, then it grew with vigor and her question almost seemed like a demand to be answered. But she was still somewhere, far from where they were, as though her mind and body were two different entities in that moment. Was the small flower girl she once knew hurt? Why would she pass the crown to another? Had she left?
She came back to them then, the murkiness in her eyes snapping back into focus. She glanced around, at the quiet, at the slightly rugged look the Dusk Court had developed since she left. "What happened here?" It was thin again, her voice, accent barely lilting while she appeared defeated by a monster neither could see. A pause, and then, "And I am Rannveig no longer. I do not deserve such title. I am Silanos, name given to a girl with nothing."
The name given to a girl who would amount to nothing.
@asterion
