I’m so wound-bound.
I’m so lost to the vanity of staying. Stay.
She hasn’t been to the Steppe since just after her battle with Raum.
Then, it was covered with those unnatural jewel-flowers, which, under the circumstances, felt more like a mockery than anything. At least they’d guised the landscape of the Steppe; she hadn’t been sure that she could have stood to be there if it had looked as it did when he struck her down. Now, it is barren, and she is not sure if it is a curse or a blessing to stand on the pocked, dry ground or to stare out at the familiar stretches of landscape. If she looks behind her, she can see the spot where he left her to bleed out, so she doesn’t look back. Instead, she stares forward, in the direction of Solterra, and she grinds her teeth. In her spar with Caine, much she’d much rather forget about it, she’d frozen up the moment she thought he’d attack her face. It is a weakness she knows that she can’t afford – she needs to get over it.
Her once-regent appears as a blur of gold on the horizon, drawing closer with each passing second. Bexley Briar is as beautiful as ever, but she is leaner than usual, more delicate. (Then again, so is Seraphina.) She is shorter than her, though not by much, but she is no soldier – that said, Seraphina still recalls what she did to Acton. She’d chosen her for her ferocity, though she had no military upbringing or experience, a near-necessity in Solterra; what she lacked in practice she could make up for in temperament, particularly with that light magic, which seemed more than strong enough to burn skin. (She is envious of those with magic that has use on its own; her telekinesis is always reliant on other objects or people to work.) Ereshkigal perches several yards away, observing, but she makes no move to breach the distance between them, which Seraphina takes as a sign that she won’t be joining in this fight. She’d left her armor and her weapons with her. Though she knows that their absence will hamstring her, they are a bit too lethal for a simple spar, and Seraphina has no desire to hurt Bexley.
(She has no desire to hurt Bexley any more than she already has. She looks at her, and she aches. She failed her country, and, with it, she failed her regent and her emissary alike. She doesn’t look as hollow as she did the last time they met, in the canyons, but still she wears the marks of Raum’s rule on her skin, in the hollows of her ribs, and it is enough to make Seraphina’s stomach turn with guilt and her skin crawl with some terrible mixture of rage and disgust. More fuel, she thinks, for the monstrous thing that is growing in her chest, that hungry, blank space that has replaced her heart.)
Bexley greets her, and she dips her head in kind, odd eyes skirting the golden girl’s frame. “Bexley.” She could say more, she thinks, but she doesn't. She doesn't know what to say; she still never knows what to say.
When she does not make the first move, Seraphina takes it as her own. She dashes, hooves kicking up dry turf, and she closes the remaining distance between them in a few smooth strides. Once she’s breached her personal space, Seraphina lunges, front legs rising just far enough from the ground to put her in a decent position to lung, her jaws snapping out towards the spot where Bexley’s cheek hits the curve of her throat. Even if her teeth meet her skin, she will not bite her hard – her teeth might sink in deep enough to draw a pinprick of blood or bruise.
@
"Speech!" || "Ereshkigal!"
Summary: Seraphina hangs out at the Steppe and thinks about how she almost died there. She briefly thinks of her spar with Caine and the fact that she's been a little bit traumatized in battle since. Bexley shows up. Sera examines her (proudly? proudly.) and then takes a second to angst about how she's failed her people for approximately the millionth time lately. She greets her, and then she runs up to her, rears very slightly, and tries to bite at her throat.
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: Nope - and her armor, weapons, & Eresh are all over on the side.
Response Deadline: 8/2/19 (but feel free to take longer if you need it)
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
