f l o r e n t i n e
Feathers, dusk orange and honey gold, thoughtfully trail through the crowns of the tall grasses. Florentine ignores the glances of disappointment that the black girl casts her way. Flora was not, nor had ever been, one for politics or the ways of a court.
Flora was lost in thought, lost in listening to the sea, the sky, the winds, but there was no missing Inkheart as she began to swell with joy. Amethyst meets black as the flower girl’s gaze is drawn in to Inkheart; a moth to a flame.
This dawn girl is fierce and wild with her love of her god, Solis. She preaches, enthusiastic, her voice as bright with vigor as the sun she loves so. Flora’s honey lashes lower and lift, idly blinking as her eyes take in the splendor of the black woman.
A moment of silence extends itself lazily between the girls when Inkheart at last falls silent. The air rustles, just with the soft lowering of the dawn girl’s wings. In this silence Florentine ruminates, she turns over and considers every sentence and point that Inkheart raised.
She opens her mouth to speak and the silence pulls itself tight. Her mouth closes when no words come and the silence shudders, as if it knows what blasphemy is about to pour like poisoned wine from the girl’s lips. “But Time has no god.” Flora says gently, slowly.
“Just like the day, the night, the dusk and the dawn also need no gods.” Florentine’s eyes lift up to the skies and then down to the gilded dagger that lies silently upon her breast. “All are controlled by Time, and wild magic…” Her thoughts drift back to Rift, to her homeland, to lands that changed upon Time’s mere whim.
“I was born in a place where there were no gods, just Time and its wild magic. Lands would change: a graveyard desert, a clockwork forest, a lightning plane of metal and perpetual night... They changed so many times I could not keep count. Time worked there and it had no need for gods to try and harness it.” Her eyes, serious and deep, deep purple, shift back to Inkheart, reticent for how her words would be received. “Time and the passing of days should only be at the behest of Time itself. I was given the gift of time-travel.” She lifted her gilded dagger for the other girl to see. “This dagger would tear windows between any time and existence. I have met gods before… in different worlds. But I see gods as only keepers, their ability to control a time of day, is only that, an ability – magic.” Her heart stutters, sad, anxious for these gods that have harnessed a time to call their own.
Florentine is not sure when she stopped walking, but her gaze is held by the setting sun. Her heart flutters in her chest, a fear of blasphemy, a fear that her non-belief would have her sentenced. “I love Time too much to see it controlled by others.” Sadness twinges in her voice for she feels so far from it now, unable to flit between worlds as easily as blinking. She preferred it wild, uncontrolled, at its own mercy, with its own wild magic.
Her wings flare as she leaps into the air, desperate to shed the quagmire of thoughts that begin to pull her down. She needs the sun, the air, the infinity of the skies through which to fly. Her eyes lower to Inkheart, the girl who blazes with the sun’s light. “By all means, enlighten me.”
@Inkheart – ooph, if some of her reasoning does not make sense, forgive me. (Also, some of her misunderstanding is intentionally there.) I know she does not believe in gods as I am trying to keep her true to her history and she started on another game where time and magic ran wild and there were no gods. I have just been working out exactly what she believes – which is a little hard xD. She is open to conversion though, if Inkheart can convince her of the worth of gods ;) (and clear up her understanding of what the Novus ones are/what they do).
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
Flora was lost in thought, lost in listening to the sea, the sky, the winds, but there was no missing Inkheart as she began to swell with joy. Amethyst meets black as the flower girl’s gaze is drawn in to Inkheart; a moth to a flame.
This dawn girl is fierce and wild with her love of her god, Solis. She preaches, enthusiastic, her voice as bright with vigor as the sun she loves so. Flora’s honey lashes lower and lift, idly blinking as her eyes take in the splendor of the black woman.
A moment of silence extends itself lazily between the girls when Inkheart at last falls silent. The air rustles, just with the soft lowering of the dawn girl’s wings. In this silence Florentine ruminates, she turns over and considers every sentence and point that Inkheart raised.
She opens her mouth to speak and the silence pulls itself tight. Her mouth closes when no words come and the silence shudders, as if it knows what blasphemy is about to pour like poisoned wine from the girl’s lips. “But Time has no god.” Flora says gently, slowly.
“Just like the day, the night, the dusk and the dawn also need no gods.” Florentine’s eyes lift up to the skies and then down to the gilded dagger that lies silently upon her breast. “All are controlled by Time, and wild magic…” Her thoughts drift back to Rift, to her homeland, to lands that changed upon Time’s mere whim.
“I was born in a place where there were no gods, just Time and its wild magic. Lands would change: a graveyard desert, a clockwork forest, a lightning plane of metal and perpetual night... They changed so many times I could not keep count. Time worked there and it had no need for gods to try and harness it.” Her eyes, serious and deep, deep purple, shift back to Inkheart, reticent for how her words would be received. “Time and the passing of days should only be at the behest of Time itself. I was given the gift of time-travel.” She lifted her gilded dagger for the other girl to see. “This dagger would tear windows between any time and existence. I have met gods before… in different worlds. But I see gods as only keepers, their ability to control a time of day, is only that, an ability – magic.” Her heart stutters, sad, anxious for these gods that have harnessed a time to call their own.
Florentine is not sure when she stopped walking, but her gaze is held by the setting sun. Her heart flutters in her chest, a fear of blasphemy, a fear that her non-belief would have her sentenced. “I love Time too much to see it controlled by others.” Sadness twinges in her voice for she feels so far from it now, unable to flit between worlds as easily as blinking. She preferred it wild, uncontrolled, at its own mercy, with its own wild magic.
Her wings flare as she leaps into the air, desperate to shed the quagmire of thoughts that begin to pull her down. She needs the sun, the air, the infinity of the skies through which to fly. Her eyes lower to Inkheart, the girl who blazes with the sun’s light. “By all means, enlighten me.”
@Inkheart – ooph, if some of her reasoning does not make sense, forgive me. (Also, some of her misunderstanding is intentionally there.) I know she does not believe in gods as I am trying to keep her true to her history and she started on another game where time and magic ran wild and there were no gods. I have just been working out exactly what she believes – which is a little hard xD. She is open to conversion though, if Inkheart can convince her of the worth of gods ;) (and clear up her understanding of what the Novus ones are/what they do).
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
