Seraphina did not appreciate the sarcasm, but she didn’t feel a hint of irritation at it, either. Her gaze remained cool and composed, eyes never leaving the pony’s. Seraphina offered no response to her initial comments, rather waiting until she had finished her introduction to speak again. “I am sure that you are unaware of it, but this beach borders a desert. The Mors is vast and vicious, and many inexperienced with its dangers die attempting to traverse it. I would recommend returning to the court with me, regardless of your current status, Aryel.” Not infrequently, on patrol, she was forced to bury the sand-riddled corpses of strangers that had wandered foolishly into the desert. She could still reject her invitation, of course, but she imagined that could quite possibly end poorly for the pony.
It was only then that the vulnerability that a more empathetic creature might have anticipated from the beginning peeked through the pony’s bitter exterior. For Seraphina, the shift – the faint tremor of something like fear in her voice – was alien, inexplicable. She reasoned that this little bat of Aryel’s must be bonded to her, and she understood, to some extent, what that meant. She remembered a little mare from a few seasons ago, another soldier. She remembered how happy that little mare was (what was her name?) when she found that gazelle, and she remembered the cold, dead look in her eyes when she stared down at its corpse. Bondeds are gifts from the gods, Viceroy had said, and failing to protect them will bring down their wrath upon you. That little mare was never the same.
Though her expression never changed, she kept that information in mind as she proceeded. “I am afraid that I have not seen your companion. I have combed the entirety of our coast in that direction,” She said, glancing over her shoulder to gesture at the beach sprawled out behind her, “but there is a considerable amount of land to be covered ahead of us. If you feel capable of doing so, you may follow me while I patrol, and we can search for your companion.” Aryel seemed a bit bruised up, but her stocky build likely contained a decent amount of power – she knew better than to judge an opponent strictly by their physical stature, and the pony was far from waifish besides. She could likely hold her own on the off chance that they ran into trouble, and taking her along would prevent her from stopping her patrol to take her to the Day Court.
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
