GIRL WITH AN ACCENT OF BLOOD
She awakes as she has always lived; suddenly, violently, surging to her feet like a coming storm. Her wife is not beside her -- had Cleopatra awaken first? -- but the gold band is still secure around her leg, strangely tarnished though it may be. She doesn't remember how they had come to be there -- only that they had been seeking, and that there had been a heavy drowsiness that had stolen over her and washed away her anger, and now, she had awoken amongst the trees of her birthplace.
Cleopatra had likely returned home to report back and to regroup.
There are still dead leaves tangled in her wild curls, even chopped short as they are, and moss still clings to the linen wraps around her legs, but the white paint clinging to her wings is fresh, gleaming ivory against the sun as she approaches the gathering, her verdant eyes seeking out any familiar faces -- and yet, strangely, she found none. There was, however, a stranger bedecked in the same stripes of the commander as she was, and her eyes narrow in distaste even as a 'hmph' leaves her lips.
"I bet Cicero thinks this is some sort of a joke, doesn't he? Dressing a cadet up like a commander -- you, cadet, who are you? I don't recognize you." Perhaps one of the newer recruits, although she had thought she had met them all, and as she glances around she realizes that there are few Halcyon to be found here. In fact, the cadet had seemed to be addressing the crowd, something about a lost king and how she had become sovereign… except King Desmond had been fine, when they had set out the night before.
Something is very wrong here. Something felt out of place, as though this was not the Terrastella she had always known, had sworn her life to protect, as though something foul had danced across her spine in the swamp and left traces upon her very being even when none could be found. "I don't know what you're playing at, cadet -- where is Cicero? What foolishness beneath Vespera is this, that you claim both Commander and Sovereign for yourself?" Perhaps they had been asleep for longer than they had thought -- long enough to be assumed missing, and for Cicero to have taken over?
But then, who was this?
Her eyes narrowed at the bay mare with the spear at her side, itching to reach for the Ilati-gifted dagger strapped to her leg. "Has something happened to Cicero? And if, as you so claim, you were appointed Commander instead of Cicero, where is your Vicarius? Where is Seneca? He should have assumed the role, even if Cicero were incapacitated. It would be unorthodox, yes, but a Commander must have their Vicarius, and he would be best for the position."
Her tail snaps against her haunches, hard enough to sting, and she can't help but to glance around at the unfamiliar faces once more. Where were the cadets she knew, the citizens she had sworn to protect -- where was her wife, and her apprentice, and her Halcyon?
Cleopatra had likely returned home to report back and to regroup.
There are still dead leaves tangled in her wild curls, even chopped short as they are, and moss still clings to the linen wraps around her legs, but the white paint clinging to her wings is fresh, gleaming ivory against the sun as she approaches the gathering, her verdant eyes seeking out any familiar faces -- and yet, strangely, she found none. There was, however, a stranger bedecked in the same stripes of the commander as she was, and her eyes narrow in distaste even as a 'hmph' leaves her lips.
"I bet Cicero thinks this is some sort of a joke, doesn't he? Dressing a cadet up like a commander -- you, cadet, who are you? I don't recognize you." Perhaps one of the newer recruits, although she had thought she had met them all, and as she glances around she realizes that there are few Halcyon to be found here. In fact, the cadet had seemed to be addressing the crowd, something about a lost king and how she had become sovereign… except King Desmond had been fine, when they had set out the night before.
Something is very wrong here. Something felt out of place, as though this was not the Terrastella she had always known, had sworn her life to protect, as though something foul had danced across her spine in the swamp and left traces upon her very being even when none could be found. "I don't know what you're playing at, cadet -- where is Cicero? What foolishness beneath Vespera is this, that you claim both Commander and Sovereign for yourself?" Perhaps they had been asleep for longer than they had thought -- long enough to be assumed missing, and for Cicero to have taken over?
But then, who was this?
Her eyes narrowed at the bay mare with the spear at her side, itching to reach for the Ilati-gifted dagger strapped to her leg. "Has something happened to Cicero? And if, as you so claim, you were appointed Commander instead of Cicero, where is your Vicarius? Where is Seneca? He should have assumed the role, even if Cicero were incapacitated. It would be unorthodox, yes, but a Commander must have their Vicarius, and he would be best for the position."
Her tail snaps against her haunches, hard enough to sting, and she can't help but to glance around at the unfamiliar faces once more. Where were the cadets she knew, the citizens she had sworn to protect -- where was her wife, and her apprentice, and her Halcyon?
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