i was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips
Ipomoea.
She hears Ramses’ voice murmur the name in the back of her mind as she reaches the outskirts of Delumine’s looming citadel. Ipomoea, his voice repeats again and again. The name was never relevant to her- he was never relevant to her. In truth, the flower-spirited boy was just another king worth little to a khan... until, of course, his brother revealed him to be more than that. And then suddenly, Dawn Court’s sovereign began to cross her mind quite regularly.
A Davke left for dead now leading a nation of forest-dwellers: how fascinating.
Naturally, it was only a matter of time before Avdotya caved to her curiosity and traveled west. She shed her typical bearskin shawl back in Solterra, left under the careful watch of Feliks (who wasn't necessarily pleased about his instructions to stay put) and instead the mare walks bearing her ceremonious garb of red, gold and bone. She is a symbol of Solis and, to many passing eyes, simply a priestess of the sun; she glides under the radar and enters the citadel without hassle, even smiles softly at the offer of directions to a particular room. "The library, where may I find it?" Yet his response falls upon deaf ears.
The viper seeks only the king, not books and tattered parchment, but for a moment she pauses to trace the details of the sun room she find herself in. It is all so different, the way fingers of ivy reach in through the windows and sprawl overtop glass ceilings. Sand does not collect in the corners from being blown in by vicious winds and rather than a thousand shades of brown, there are brilliant shades of colour everywhere she turns. It's foreign, so entirely different from the life she knows... this is no home of hers, but it somehow appealed to a once-desert child. She wonders if he misses the dunes like her own heart does as she stands in a warm ray of sunshine; however, that is not why has come.
Though her thirsting mind is keen to know more about the Davke reject, she is more interested in stirring what may only be a whirling cloud of dust into something a bit more potent. Whispers a of quiet tension between two kings have been circulating in the darkest nooks of Novus, enough to have found their way to Avdotya's ever-listening ears...
...and who was she to ignore opportunity when it knocked upon her wicked door.
@ipomoea
She hears Ramses’ voice murmur the name in the back of her mind as she reaches the outskirts of Delumine’s looming citadel. Ipomoea, his voice repeats again and again. The name was never relevant to her- he was never relevant to her. In truth, the flower-spirited boy was just another king worth little to a khan... until, of course, his brother revealed him to be more than that. And then suddenly, Dawn Court’s sovereign began to cross her mind quite regularly.
A Davke left for dead now leading a nation of forest-dwellers: how fascinating.
Naturally, it was only a matter of time before Avdotya caved to her curiosity and traveled west. She shed her typical bearskin shawl back in Solterra, left under the careful watch of Feliks (who wasn't necessarily pleased about his instructions to stay put) and instead the mare walks bearing her ceremonious garb of red, gold and bone. She is a symbol of Solis and, to many passing eyes, simply a priestess of the sun; she glides under the radar and enters the citadel without hassle, even smiles softly at the offer of directions to a particular room. "The library, where may I find it?" Yet his response falls upon deaf ears.
The viper seeks only the king, not books and tattered parchment, but for a moment she pauses to trace the details of the sun room she find herself in. It is all so different, the way fingers of ivy reach in through the windows and sprawl overtop glass ceilings. Sand does not collect in the corners from being blown in by vicious winds and rather than a thousand shades of brown, there are brilliant shades of colour everywhere she turns. It's foreign, so entirely different from the life she knows... this is no home of hers, but it somehow appealed to a once-desert child. She wonders if he misses the dunes like her own heart does as she stands in a warm ray of sunshine; however, that is not why has come.
Though her thirsting mind is keen to know more about the Davke reject, she is more interested in stirring what may only be a whirling cloud of dust into something a bit more potent. Whispers a of quiet tension between two kings have been circulating in the darkest nooks of Novus, enough to have found their way to Avdotya's ever-listening ears...
...and who was she to ignore opportunity when it knocked upon her wicked door.
@ipomoea
