Antiope looks at Isra and feels like she recognizes what she sees. There is something familiar, something distant and wan and not exactly the same. But it is close enough that the smile the unicorn wears of a hunter, of a predator, does not frighten her in the least. She thinks that if this unicorn to weaves magic like it is breathing is capable of anything near enough to what Antiope has done, then she will take down worlds for what she loves.
She will tear down kingdoms and galaxies and evils.
Antiope hopes that she gets to see it.
And when Isra says it, says Thank you, Antiope is still burning and the lioness in her is impatient and restless and unsatisfied. She isn’t sure how to answer, and so she doesn’t. She merely dips her head and closes her too-blue eyes for a moment long enough to listen to the sound of gemstones falling to the snow. Isra is backing away but Antiope does not open her eyes again until the unicorn is gone, and the words are drifting away in the air like petals on a breeze.
The lioness inside her understands, Antiope understands. It is not wood she had carved, either. It is never wood that must be carved. For a moment, the girl with shadows and snow on her skin follows the prints Isra had left in the snow, out of the castle that is still standing despite her burning, and into the open. For a moment, she considers continuing to follow them. To follow Isra to the thing she must carve, and to deliver upon it the justice Antiope knows is deserved.
But she thinks, perhaps, there are some things which must be carved alone, as she had done to those gods and their once-powerful existence. So she turns away instead.
"Speaking."
She will tear down kingdoms and galaxies and evils.
Antiope hopes that she gets to see it.
And when Isra says it, says Thank you, Antiope is still burning and the lioness in her is impatient and restless and unsatisfied. She isn’t sure how to answer, and so she doesn’t. She merely dips her head and closes her too-blue eyes for a moment long enough to listen to the sound of gemstones falling to the snow. Isra is backing away but Antiope does not open her eyes again until the unicorn is gone, and the words are drifting away in the air like petals on a breeze.
The lioness inside her understands, Antiope understands. It is not wood she had carved, either. It is never wood that must be carved. For a moment, the girl with shadows and snow on her skin follows the prints Isra had left in the snow, out of the castle that is still standing despite her burning, and into the open. For a moment, she considers continuing to follow them. To follow Isra to the thing she must carve, and to deliver upon it the justice Antiope knows is deserved.
But she thinks, perhaps, there are some things which must be carved alone, as she had done to those gods and their once-powerful existence. So she turns away instead.
@Isra just my close <3
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
