“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
Antiope listens to Morrighan talk about her relationship to the different deities that have been in her life and at the mention of lackluster gods from her previous world it only further manifests the Regent’s struggles with her own beliefs. Are there good, loving gods out there? Could the ones here on Novus be like that? How is she to know, when she has had no kind of interaction with them.
“I have heard tales that the gods have come down to walk among the people in mortal forms. Or, as mortal as a god’s form can possibly be,” Antiope says, glancing at the Warden, “So, perhaps you have seen her, or some form of her.” Really, who is to say either way? What Morrighan wishes to believe is up to her, and Antiope cannot fault her for that.
Just because she has had up close and personal experiences with gods does not mean everyone does. After all, it is not everything it’s made out to be—not in her life, at least. “Perhaps believing is just like the wind, or sunlight, or love. Intangible, sometimes you can’t see it or it might not feel like it, but it’s always there regardless.” The Regent’s problem is not in belief. She does not need to see Caligo to know she is there, but she doesn’t know what Caligo knows or feels about her. She doesn’t know if she can trust the demigoddess, or herself.
When the Warden asks whether or not becoming Sovereign is her vision, Antiope is quiet for a long moment. Her sapphire eyes almost seem to darken, like a sea at storm, as she lifts them toward the sky. She thinks of foliage, verdant and tangled, and shadows heavy and deep.
“I have been something of a queen, before,” she says. They had revered her, almost worshipped her like a goddess. She had been god-sent, of course, sent to save them. Antiope had led them successfully through many battles, kept them out of harm’s way. When she had come to Novus, the last thing on her mind had been sovereignship. But like the anger, like the memories, leadership seemed to be following her, “I certainly hadn’t intended to become one again so soon.” Scarcely years, scarcely time at all. Not for her, who has all the time in all the world.
“But, I could no sooner turn away from Denocte’s citizens than to disappoint Isra,” her eyes find Morrighan’s again, turning away from the wide stretch of sky above them. There is nothing up there for her but the space to sort through her thoughts. Later. Perhaps, perhaps.
But then Morrighan is asking about who will take her place once she ascends, and Antiope cannot help but look a little closer at the grullo woman. She hasn’t really put much thought into it, but a part of her has a feeling the question isn’t completely innocent. “Are you putting in an application?” the Regent asks, curiosity taking over.
Somehow, things felt easier when there was the threat of war. War, Antiope knows. She knows it intimately, as she might a lover. The Regent knows all the strengths and weaknesses of battle, she has learned it and conquered it and, once, even delighted in it. But peace is a different kind of beast. It is something she is still desperately trying to understand.
She wonders if her heart will ever know it as familiarly.
But it rages, and fights, and harbors its love for something so arcane and primal.
Perhaps she will always be a wild thing, a god-thing, with a lioness in her bones. She can lay down her weapons but she can never lay down her instincts. But she is not going to be queen of a warring kingdom anymore. Something… something is going to have to change before everything breaks.
“Speaking.”
“I have heard tales that the gods have come down to walk among the people in mortal forms. Or, as mortal as a god’s form can possibly be,” Antiope says, glancing at the Warden, “So, perhaps you have seen her, or some form of her.” Really, who is to say either way? What Morrighan wishes to believe is up to her, and Antiope cannot fault her for that.
Just because she has had up close and personal experiences with gods does not mean everyone does. After all, it is not everything it’s made out to be—not in her life, at least. “Perhaps believing is just like the wind, or sunlight, or love. Intangible, sometimes you can’t see it or it might not feel like it, but it’s always there regardless.” The Regent’s problem is not in belief. She does not need to see Caligo to know she is there, but she doesn’t know what Caligo knows or feels about her. She doesn’t know if she can trust the demigoddess, or herself.
When the Warden asks whether or not becoming Sovereign is her vision, Antiope is quiet for a long moment. Her sapphire eyes almost seem to darken, like a sea at storm, as she lifts them toward the sky. She thinks of foliage, verdant and tangled, and shadows heavy and deep.
“I have been something of a queen, before,” she says. They had revered her, almost worshipped her like a goddess. She had been god-sent, of course, sent to save them. Antiope had led them successfully through many battles, kept them out of harm’s way. When she had come to Novus, the last thing on her mind had been sovereignship. But like the anger, like the memories, leadership seemed to be following her, “I certainly hadn’t intended to become one again so soon.” Scarcely years, scarcely time at all. Not for her, who has all the time in all the world.
“But, I could no sooner turn away from Denocte’s citizens than to disappoint Isra,” her eyes find Morrighan’s again, turning away from the wide stretch of sky above them. There is nothing up there for her but the space to sort through her thoughts. Later. Perhaps, perhaps.
But then Morrighan is asking about who will take her place once she ascends, and Antiope cannot help but look a little closer at the grullo woman. She hasn’t really put much thought into it, but a part of her has a feeling the question isn’t completely innocent. “Are you putting in an application?” the Regent asks, curiosity taking over.
Somehow, things felt easier when there was the threat of war. War, Antiope knows. She knows it intimately, as she might a lover. The Regent knows all the strengths and weaknesses of battle, she has learned it and conquered it and, once, even delighted in it. But peace is a different kind of beast. It is something she is still desperately trying to understand.
She wonders if her heart will ever know it as familiarly.
But it rages, and fights, and harbors its love for something so arcane and primal.
Perhaps she will always be a wild thing, a god-thing, with a lioness in her bones. She can lay down her weapons but she can never lay down her instincts. But she is not going to be queen of a warring kingdom anymore. Something… something is going to have to change before everything breaks.
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
