☼ fia the crownless ☼
oh, pity the damned
She is young enough to be a girl, but not a child entire – Seraphina can see the fine veneer of womanhood beginning to dawn over the youth’s soft features. If she had to place her age, she would guess that she is likely into her second year, though barely. She wonders again why such a young creature is out when Dawn’s borders are closed, when she has heard such strange, dark rumors of a man-eating monster creeping in the depths of the oft-verdant (though not in winter) expanses of the forests and the plains that cover Delumine. As something of a daughter of war and strife, raised on the knife’s-edge of violence and bloodshed, she can’t find it in her to appreciate the girl’s solitude in such troubled times, whether it is a sign of some sort of courage or some sort of foolishness; although Solterra is a land of many monsters, not least of all the one who sits on the throne, most tried to shield their children from them. A sandwyrm could swallow an unsuspecting youth whole, and a teryr in the later years of its lifespan could carry off a full-grown stallion in his prime.
(For a moment, she thinks of Maxence, and, with him, she thinks of the teryr that dragged him away – dark shapes against the brilliance of the sun, a creeping shadow.)
If nothing else, Seraphina can take comfort in the knowledge that she is here now, and she is hardly inexperienced in the art of hunting monsters. She regards the girl again – the budding musculature of her lean, agile frame and the subtle strength in her light build. She wonders if she is training to become some kind of soldier. (Delumine does not have many of those; she is always surprised to encounter one.) In spite of her youth, she wields a heavy, appreciable presence, and, when she speaks, her voice – and her dialect – catch the silver off guard, though any surprise she feels does not register on her dark features.
“Aye,” the girl says, in an accent she cannot place. (She is a foreigner, Seraphina discerns; the mismatched lull of her voice does not match any of the courts.) “Doth thee demand something here?” Her wording is arcane, as mismatched to her youth as the look in her dark eyes, but, although unusual, it is hardly indiscernible. (Ereshkigal’s wording is far more bizarre; she is suddenly glad that her companion has flown ahead to the capitol, rather than lingering with her bonded spirit on the journey. She would rather that the demon was never allowed around children.) “I am Maerys of Dawn Court,” the girl adds. She is certainly unafraid, or unconcerned, and, really, why should she be? Seraphina has become accustomed to suspicion, but she reminds herself that not all kingdoms are at war.
(If Raum has his way, she thinks that they might be. She pushes that thought aside, though; she has to believe that she will be able to stop him.)
“I am Fia, of Solterra,” comes her cool response, accompanied by a respectful dip of her head. (The name has become as easy to repeat as breathing; though she doubts that she has any need to lie to a child, she also knows that it is far better if the world as a whole thinks that Seraphina is dead, for the time being.) “I seek your king – I sent him a letter in advance.” She does not linger on the subject of why; one can hardly speak of vengeance and rebellion and crumbling nations in polite company. Instead, she shifts to a topic of more immediate interest. “What brings you out here alone, Maerys of Dawn? I’ve heard that there is a monster about.”
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tags | @Maerys
notes | <3
oh, pity the damned
She is young enough to be a girl, but not a child entire – Seraphina can see the fine veneer of womanhood beginning to dawn over the youth’s soft features. If she had to place her age, she would guess that she is likely into her second year, though barely. She wonders again why such a young creature is out when Dawn’s borders are closed, when she has heard such strange, dark rumors of a man-eating monster creeping in the depths of the oft-verdant (though not in winter) expanses of the forests and the plains that cover Delumine. As something of a daughter of war and strife, raised on the knife’s-edge of violence and bloodshed, she can’t find it in her to appreciate the girl’s solitude in such troubled times, whether it is a sign of some sort of courage or some sort of foolishness; although Solterra is a land of many monsters, not least of all the one who sits on the throne, most tried to shield their children from them. A sandwyrm could swallow an unsuspecting youth whole, and a teryr in the later years of its lifespan could carry off a full-grown stallion in his prime.
(For a moment, she thinks of Maxence, and, with him, she thinks of the teryr that dragged him away – dark shapes against the brilliance of the sun, a creeping shadow.)
If nothing else, Seraphina can take comfort in the knowledge that she is here now, and she is hardly inexperienced in the art of hunting monsters. She regards the girl again – the budding musculature of her lean, agile frame and the subtle strength in her light build. She wonders if she is training to become some kind of soldier. (Delumine does not have many of those; she is always surprised to encounter one.) In spite of her youth, she wields a heavy, appreciable presence, and, when she speaks, her voice – and her dialect – catch the silver off guard, though any surprise she feels does not register on her dark features.
“Aye,” the girl says, in an accent she cannot place. (She is a foreigner, Seraphina discerns; the mismatched lull of her voice does not match any of the courts.) “Doth thee demand something here?” Her wording is arcane, as mismatched to her youth as the look in her dark eyes, but, although unusual, it is hardly indiscernible. (Ereshkigal’s wording is far more bizarre; she is suddenly glad that her companion has flown ahead to the capitol, rather than lingering with her bonded spirit on the journey. She would rather that the demon was never allowed around children.) “I am Maerys of Dawn Court,” the girl adds. She is certainly unafraid, or unconcerned, and, really, why should she be? Seraphina has become accustomed to suspicion, but she reminds herself that not all kingdoms are at war.
(If Raum has his way, she thinks that they might be. She pushes that thought aside, though; she has to believe that she will be able to stop him.)
“I am Fia, of Solterra,” comes her cool response, accompanied by a respectful dip of her head. (The name has become as easy to repeat as breathing; though she doubts that she has any need to lie to a child, she also knows that it is far better if the world as a whole thinks that Seraphina is dead, for the time being.) “I seek your king – I sent him a letter in advance.” She does not linger on the subject of why; one can hardly speak of vengeance and rebellion and crumbling nations in polite company. Instead, she shifts to a topic of more immediate interest. “What brings you out here alone, Maerys of Dawn? I’ve heard that there is a monster about.”
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tags | @Maerys
notes | <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
