[P] in me forever

[Antiope]

'your name will be known,'
a promise, a dare.
my name will be known,
a promise, a prayer.

The sound of laughter drifts up from the street below, as Antiope rises from the bed and passes by the window that looks out over the city of Terrastella. Wan, early morning light washes through the room, dust catching in rays of faint sun like tiny embers.

The sky is bursting with clouds—like an overstuffed pillow, goosefeathers spilling from its seams—and the dusky blue sky tries its best to push through the cover. Behind the sound of laughter, the Denoctian Sovereign thinks she can hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs. It is a familiar sound to her, striking up memories of her creation.

Those memories lead to later ones, ones that she would rather not remember.

Not right now.

Something sharp and dark flashes in her sapphire eyes, like a storm, like lightning, and she turns away from the window. With deft movements she wraps her hair and ties it with blood bright ties, before pushing open the door to the grand room and stepping into the hall.

There are still smudges of red beneath her eyes, on her hooves, like blood, like bruises. It is difficult to say which they are meant to be, which they resemble more. The striped woman moves down the wide hall of pale stone, sweeping archways and collunades, with green growth in every corner it seems. How different, Antiope remarks, the courts are to each other. How similar still she finds them in so many ways.

“Pardon,” an inquiring voice comes from behind. She pauses, turns, and looks upon the gentle faced woman with eyes as quiet as her voice, “Queen Marisol is expecting you.” Antiope steps back to allow the woman move before her. “Of course, please lead the way,” her voice echoes back to her off the silent walls, strange and foreign.

The woman (a stewardess, perhaps), takes her on an unfamiliar path through. That is to say, one different than the one that brought her to her room when she had arrived the previous evening. They pass through a door and onto a short open bridge, and the sound of the ocean rises like the sun over her senses.

It roars just out of reach, though not out of sight. The sound of gulls is a keening in the obscure morning. The bridge no doubt leads from the guest quarters to the castle itself, but Antiope cannot help but wonder idly where exactly she is being led.

"Speaking."

@Marisol

∞