[P] lie down by the slow river;

[Marisol]

with sword
and salt

Israfel appears at the end of the street, warm as a lamp. The white-and-yellow of her feathers shines in the new light; she emits an aura of gold, a warm glow that bounces and flickers calmly off the cobblestone. Some part of Mari lights up in fear and another in relief. Despite their differences, Israfel is only semblance of normalcy in Mari’s life (or the Court’s, for that matter), and normal is exactly what they need right now.

Marisol’s steps slow. She carefully forces her shoulders to relax, slumping down until the muscles at least partially unwind. And as she draws closer to the Warden, she wonders—is this a mistake? Becoming Sovereign, or even part of the Council? Israfel has a child, perfect little Charlie, and a husband or something close to it in Dawn, and yet here she is walking the streets in the cold, alone but for the companion on her shoulder. Is that the life she wants? The life she deserves?  

She can’t imagine having a kid. Or a partner that she wouldn’t have to hide away. But if she did, it seems impossible that they would not overtake her duties, or at least make them more painful. What strength she must have, Marisol thinks, to live willingly a life split in such unclean halves.

“Warden,” greets Marisol. She blinks in a calm hello. (Warden must be the right name here—right?—more respectful than her name, more apt than simply soldier. And yet she is still not sure. She is not sure of anything at all, really, and though Israfel is perhaps the least of her worries she cannot help feeling a need to please the Warden.) Please, she thinks to herself, let’s make this easy. If not for me then for our country.

Her tail swishes softly against her hindquarters, and for a moment she is silent, cool eyes fixed upon Solaris’ fine feathers and bright eyes. Many a a time she has wished for a bond like that—something real, something unconditional. Her heart squeezes just a little. “Pleasure, I’m not so sure. Hard to find that recently.” A faint, sad movement crosses her lips and sinks into the planes of her face, but she steels herself again with a short breath. “I wanted to—check in. And ask if you would give your counsel on a few things, as I… trust your judgement. At your leisure. Obviously.”

credits