[AW] what aisle did you find your serenity

[Theodosia]

let our eyes show the 
fire in our hearts tonight

Above her, the moon is a waning crescent, the tiniest offering of light for those who sought what the tide had hidden. Or perhaps not the tide -- time, and negligence, and something far more sinister had hidden away Prudence, had robbed the Halcyon of their greatest gift, had perhaps even directly contributed to their lackluster history since then. They had been mighty, once, and they might still be mighty again; but oh, they were sorely in need of what they had once possessed, their armor and their ager and all the secrets that the commanders of old had hidden with them when they passed.

Her wings cut through the air like a knife -- silent, deadly, powerful -- and the smell of salt burns at her nostrils. Just as it divides sea and city. What else divided such, except for the cliffs that towered so grandly over the crashing waves, shadowed like hungry teeth? It is, perhaps, the only clue that makes sense to her -- she had never been told the tale of the star-crossed lovers of Verona, had no such frame of reference for Juliet and her sorrow.

She has not slept, has not returned to her room since the first clue had become posted, but she is aware that she had been assigned a new roommate. Briefly, she wonders where Nyl had gone, whether he had finally failed out of the cadet training (she’d never seen a cadet miss a target at 5 feet before, and then she’d met him) and then decides she doesn’t really care enough to ask, should she get the opportunity.

Either way, she’d been warned of her new roommate, had been told that she was to mind her manners because he wasn’t Halcyon recruit, he was a guest. Perhaps she might have missed the guest’s hoofprints in the sand, half-washed away by the surf already, except she had been looking for him just as much as she had been looking for some hint of Prudence, had been scenting the air for smoke overlaying salt.

She would keep an eye on their guest, she had decided, and if he were to be the one to find the armor, well --

He wouldn’t be the one to return with it, not without a fight.

She’s sure that he knows of her approach even before her hooves touch the damp sand, her wings folding over her armor, but even so she allows the scuffle of her hooves across a rock, allows her movements to be telegraphed as though she is simply being careless about her stealth until she is close enough to see the way his eyes gleam beneath the weak moonlight.

“Lord Senna,” She murmurs, allowing the barest curve of a smile to hint at her lips, allows her face to settle into an expression of polite interest despite the way she wishes to snarl at him, to send him running back home to Denocte. “I trust you have been comfortable during your stay so far?”

Despite her smile, her eyes are an accusation.

You do not belong here.

credits

@Senna @redandblack