T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
Tenebrae does not know the doubts that drift into his queen’s mind as he genuflects before her with head lowered. He looks to the floor in respect, yet even if he had looked up at her, he may not have known how such a gesture did not sit so well within Antiope.
But what if he did know of her thoughts? What if he knew how she thought him submissive? Antiope does not wish for her citizens to bow out of submission or perceived obedience… Maybe the monk would smile at his queen’s concerns for it is not mindless obedience nor meek submission that sees the monk bending the knee before his monarch. No. Tenebrae does not bow just to Antiope, but to the very thing that she represents: Denocte. It is love that bends his knee, it is joy and desire that has him pledging himself to her command.
The monk is just a soldier, set apart from any other Denoctian soldier only by his devotion to his goddess. It is Caligo he serves above all and maybe the truth of it is this: Would the Night Order go to war with Denocte herself if ever there was dispute between Caligo and her Court? Yes, of course. But it would not be without pain and distress in their hearts.
Yet Tenebrae knows none of the thoughts that pass behind Queen Antiope’s sky blue eyes. They pass like birds upon the wing, fleeting as the shadows that dance along the crimson ribbon hanging from her slender neck.
“I am well versed in the ways of the military. All Disciples are trained for many years before Caligo grants us worthy of seeing any active service.” He remembers the awakening of the sigils upon his brow, his shoulders. They glow brighter in remembrance. Their burning is a phantom recollection across his skin.
Antiope suggests they speak alone and Tenebrae nods, shadows stirring like smoke with the movement. A smile turns up the corners of his lips, warm and grateful. “They would appreciate that, Your Majesty. It would be a pleasure to speak with you alone.” The Disciple does not move as the sharp of her gaze draws across his skin. Behind him his brother’s retreat, darkness trailing in their wake. Tenebrae feels the cleaving of his own magic, its weakening as his brothers depart.
“I have had the honour of meeting your Emissary. Moira Tonnerre spent time with my brothers at our monastery a short while back.” Tenebrae says in passing as he waits for the Queen to direct him to a room where they might further their conversation.
@Antiope <3
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