the most dangerous woman of all is the one who refuses to rely on your sword because she carries her own
Were Seraphina's outlooks and insights visible to Maerys they would be an inverse eruption fashioned by twists of light collapsing into just one or two views (perceivably only a mere sentence). There were beasts and there was conflict. Though Maerys sincerely had no evidence, she queried noiselessly if the visitor shielded her words well, never suffering an unintended word skid from her velvet rims (after all, she unveiled nothing). Was this discipline and modesty, the undying crave to sustain a composed reputation and notoriety, or was it to leave those that seemed less influential on the outskirts of knowledge?
Maerys grasped little of the monsters that lingered (she was fresh flesh, a foreigner in a realm she'd never heeded). She apprehended well that to any beast she was only matter, a grossly composed volume of fiber, marrow, and pulp, that would be joyously gorged without a thought. Notwithstanding the unnerving vision of her daintily embroidered frame being pounded abruptly in the mandibles of some predator, Maerys was not challenging her duties as a soldier (she would not allow herself to take even a mere moment to reconsider her position). The tradition of all soldiers she'd remembered was to fight off corruption in any way it came and she vowed diligently that she would do the same as those before her with equal and furthered passion.
Should monstrosities advance from the border, be it leisurely or fleet, she would be one of the many that compose an army. They would move like the sea- swells of tissue and hide. It would be the powerful clanking of armor against armor and hooves against the earth, weaponry erected and shields raised, the collection of many souls (and all the magic that flowed through them) against one or numerous monsters. And Maerys knew (or for a better word believed) that if she was the sole body against a monster that she could best it. She would not permit herself to imagine the worst possible outcome for every atom in her body strained and tightened and demanded she win or die trying.
"Fia," she echoed back to the mare. "If 't be true Delumine expects thee, thee shalt be taken in kindly." The statement is of the utmost accuracy. If Seraphina was correctly an accepted guest, she would have no quandary accessing the palace where the king remained. The palace was not necessarily arduous to discover with vast white towers like the teeth on a crown. It arose from the loam like glacial frost in the snow and reflected light like delicate glass shards in the daylight.
"'Tis mine own fealty to protect these lands. Though nay paladin, I'll has't thee know I am a warrior here." Maerys was proud to say this out loud, excited by the statement's truth. "Monster... nay monster... I complete mine own duties diligently." The claim was straightforward, both a promise and a truth. With a gentle flick of her cranium and the slow turning of her body towards the heart of Delumine, where the stranger could find the palace, the king, and whatever else she wanted here, Maerys quietly offered one more quiet string of words: "Follow, follow."
