Was she looking for something?
The question still hung heavy in the back of Seraphina’s mind as she found her way to the worn fields of the Bellum Steppe, though, as with most concepts that she found too difficult or distracting to handle, she tried to ignore it. Ignoring it, however, left her itching for familiarity, for something that felt completely solid and tangible. What better to relieve her tension – sharp and flowing through her veins like a livewire - than a spar? Her only violent encounters since Viceroy’s untimely demise and the unravelling of the Day Court had been with various wildlife and the occasional unskilled bandit, and both did little to hone her skills. The creeping, guilty sensation that she was becoming inadequate with the passage of time crept in at the strangest moments, seemingly unprompted; she could be struggling to sleep or climbing the dunes or drinking from the Oasis, and there came that sense of doubt again, sudden and jolting as a strike of lightning. She had always been Viceroy’s exceptional protégé, capable and deadly in spite of her youth and lack of practical wisdom. Now Viceroy was dead, and so, obviously, she could no longer be his protégé, and therein lay the crux of the issue. Who was Seraphina, and was she really particularly special or right or useful at all?
Of course, this analysis was currently beyond the young mare. She simply recognized that she was pent-up and out-of-practice, and a spar would likely cure those troubles.
As she strode onto the familiar, dusty terrain, riddled with all manner of tunnels and shallow indentions, she heard someone call out for a Day Court member to fight, for the glory of Solis. She edged towards the source, and soon found herself staring at another mare. Seraphina recognized her from the Day Court’s last meeting; she had pledged her allegiance to Maxence immediately, even blindly, with the sort of raw enthusiasm and optimism that Seraphina found so foreign as to be incomprehensible. The golden mare had looked to be about her own age, and, though very slightly shorter, firmly built and quite impressively muscular. Furthermore, she was practically overflowing with an admirable amount of confidence and passion. (If pressed, however, Seraphina would likely consider such qualities double-edged swords. Warriors that were too sure of themselves and too invested were, according to Viceroy, the first to fall.) She was quite a lovely creature, in spite of her warlike exterior – a bit of polished gold to Seraphina’s worn silver. Although she found herself rolling her eyes inwardly at the other mare’s sentiment, she was all too happy to oblige her request.
“Very well,” Came Seraphina’s quiet reply, untouched by anything but a scientific sort of coldness, “For the glory of Solis!” Though the second portion of her greeting was significantly louder than the first, whether or not it presented any more emotion than the first – much less a sense of worship – was a topic that could quite easily be debated. She left little time for it, though, surging into motion in a cascade of gleaming quicksilver and burnished coal. Seraphina was an uncommon aggressor, and she rarely took the first move in battle; as she charged the mare, her gaze caught on her lengthy dreadlocks. She skidded to a sharp halt only inches in front of her, front legs raising in an attempt to claw at her bronzed torso, sharp hooves jabbing furiously, though not viciously enough to do serious damage. This was a distraction, more than anything, an attempt to allow her jaws to grasp at the mare’s inky black dreadlocks and then jerk to pull her off-balance. In such unstable terrain, it was easy to falter. There was no revelry in Seraphina, no desire for the fiery lust of raw power and skinship that came in battle. Simple, surgical precision and tact rest in her icy gaze, focused on her target like a predator in the midst of a hunt with some foreign beast. She did not know what to expect.
She suspected that she would soon.
Summary: Seraphina agreed to fight Eden, charged up to her and reared up to try and keep her attention by pawing at her whilst actually trying to grab her by the mane and jerk her off-balance.
edit : forgot to change the deadline from when I started this post RIP
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: N/A
Response Deadline: 07/19/17
Tags: @
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
