The sound of a voice – distinctly feminine – from the ground below had her turn, odd eyes flickering down the red walls until they stumbled upon a mare, cloaked in a fluttering of blacks and greys. Her equally dark mane and tail were cropped at sharp angles, leaving the violent, ruby-red of her eyes as the only splash of bright color on her. She wasn’t dainty, judging from her patches of scars and the thick bearskin draped across her shoulders, but she was built light and lithe. (Probably all muscle beneath that thin coat, like a snake; the deadliest creatures often weren’t the bulkiest, as most anyone with much experience in the desert could tell you, and she was dangerous, if that pelt and those scars were anything to go by.) Charcoal ears swiveled to catch her confident drawl, accented with hints of something that Seraphina couldn’t quite place. It was not so unfamiliar as to imply that this mare was from another land entirely, but it did not seem like the traditional accent of the Day Court. Seraphina did not spend much time considering it, as she didn’t really think that it mattered – she had been asked a question.
“Hardly,” Came her cool response, eyes glinting like chips of glass in the bright sunlight, “but the court is in disarray without leadership, and a culture of warriors needs an ample supply of herbs. One of the herbalists requested that I bring her some velvet mesquite if I found any on patrol, so I am simply fulfilling her request.” It was always easier to climb down the cliffs than to climb up, she had found; she retraced familiar steps in a cascade of murky silver, flanks slick with sweat. The bush followed close behind her, bobbing precariously as her concentration waned. Once her hooves were safely on solid ground, she returned her gaze to the other mare. “However, I find that I am generally more drawn to combat than climbing walls in search of bushes.” She seemed perfectly aware of the ridiculousness of her efforts, but Seraphina was dutiful above all else – she was meant to fulfill orders, regardless of what those orders were. “Seraphina. Warrior.” Her eyes flickered across the other mare’s frame once again, meticulous and sharp as a knife, and came to a halt at her eyes.“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Hardly,” Came her cool response, eyes glinting like chips of glass in the bright sunlight, “but the court is in disarray without leadership, and a culture of warriors needs an ample supply of herbs. One of the herbalists requested that I bring her some velvet mesquite if I found any on patrol, so I am simply fulfilling her request.” It was always easier to climb down the cliffs than to climb up, she had found; she retraced familiar steps in a cascade of murky silver, flanks slick with sweat. The bush followed close behind her, bobbing precariously as her concentration waned. Once her hooves were safely on solid ground, she returned her gaze to the other mare. “However, I find that I am generally more drawn to combat than climbing walls in search of bushes.” She seemed perfectly aware of the ridiculousness of her efforts, but Seraphina was dutiful above all else – she was meant to fulfill orders, regardless of what those orders were. “Seraphina. Warrior.” Her eyes flickered across the other mare’s frame once again, meticulous and sharp as a knife, and came to a halt at her eyes.“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
@Avdotya - she has every right tbh all seraphina deserves is endless judgement
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
