☼ S E R A P H I N A ☼
be an outcast / qualified to live among your dead
She had intended to spend some time in isolation; and she did, for quite some time. (It is not so difficult to disappear in Solterra – particularly when so much of the world already thought her dead.) But Seraphina had discovered years ago now that life had a way of never quite going the way that she intended. It is perhaps morose and unfair of her to say that her life had more often taken unexpected turns for the worse than for the better, but not every unexpected twist was a terrible one.
Case in point: when welll into her self-imposed isolation, she had been contacted by a familiar face, though not one that she had ever anticipated seeing again.
be an outcast / qualified to live among your dead
She had intended to spend some time in isolation; and she did, for quite some time. (It is not so difficult to disappear in Solterra – particularly when so much of the world already thought her dead.) But Seraphina had discovered years ago now that life had a way of never quite going the way that she intended. It is perhaps morose and unfair of her to say that her life had more often taken unexpected turns for the worse than for the better, but not every unexpected twist was a terrible one.
Case in point: when welll into her self-imposed isolation, she had been contacted by a familiar face, though not one that she had ever anticipated seeing again.
--
She steps out and into the salt-and-murk air of Terrastella, and she takes a deep breath of the wind. Ereshkigal is quick behind her – a beat of dark-feathered wings and a rush of red-yellow eyes and she is there, coming to roost on the leather armor that protects her shoulders. It is early winter, now, and, though the cold is not biting, it sets Seraphina’s teeth on edge; she is used to the scalding warmth of Solterra, which rarely cools too substantially, even on winter nights. The rest of Novus is different.
The last time she was here, she thinks that it was winter. She recalls – in a soft, gauzy blur – lighting candles for her dead. (There are so many.)
Winter kills like a desert summer. Dry, browned grass crunches beneath her hooves; the trees on the border of the fields have lost their leaves, and their branches have darkened, as though smudged with ash. That said, the rest of the world is still alive. Birdsong emanates from the fields, abrupt and lyrical, and small insects hop from blade to blade in the grass below. If she looks up, she can spot the white belly of a dove, swooping pirouettes in the sky. She feels Ereshkigal shift on her shoulders, dragging her worm-tongue across the curve of her beak and her blade-sharp teeth, and, before she can leap into the air after the dove, she thinks a harsh, Stop in her direction.
Of course – it is no good to try and persuade the demon to stop. Ereshkigal does as she wishes, whether Seraphina wants her to or not, and, besides: she knows better than to try and stop a hungry predator from seeking prey. (It might be crueler to do otherwise.) The vulture is off her shoulders in a flap of massive wings that stir the grass and ground below. Above them, the dove lets out a sound of panic, and Seraphina watches, for a moment, as she tries to escape into the woods.
She gives a soft sigh, then looks back over her shoulder – back towards the tear in reality that brought her here. The creator of the tear had not been slow to follow her, and her gaze steadies on her golden form, rather than the gory scene playing out in the trees. It is strange to see her, almost, but perhaps stranger to see her here, all honey and lilac.
Seraphina has never been an avid conversationalist. Fortunately, her current companion is far less reserved with her thoughts – else she is not sure what she would have done in the time they’d spent together.
“How does it feel to be back in Novus, Florentine?”
tags | @Florentine
notes | <3
"speech"
The last time she was here, she thinks that it was winter. She recalls – in a soft, gauzy blur – lighting candles for her dead. (There are so many.)
Winter kills like a desert summer. Dry, browned grass crunches beneath her hooves; the trees on the border of the fields have lost their leaves, and their branches have darkened, as though smudged with ash. That said, the rest of the world is still alive. Birdsong emanates from the fields, abrupt and lyrical, and small insects hop from blade to blade in the grass below. If she looks up, she can spot the white belly of a dove, swooping pirouettes in the sky. She feels Ereshkigal shift on her shoulders, dragging her worm-tongue across the curve of her beak and her blade-sharp teeth, and, before she can leap into the air after the dove, she thinks a harsh, Stop in her direction.
Of course – it is no good to try and persuade the demon to stop. Ereshkigal does as she wishes, whether Seraphina wants her to or not, and, besides: she knows better than to try and stop a hungry predator from seeking prey. (It might be crueler to do otherwise.) The vulture is off her shoulders in a flap of massive wings that stir the grass and ground below. Above them, the dove lets out a sound of panic, and Seraphina watches, for a moment, as she tries to escape into the woods.
She gives a soft sigh, then looks back over her shoulder – back towards the tear in reality that brought her here. The creator of the tear had not been slow to follow her, and her gaze steadies on her golden form, rather than the gory scene playing out in the trees. It is strange to see her, almost, but perhaps stranger to see her here, all honey and lilac.
Seraphina has never been an avid conversationalist. Fortunately, her current companion is far less reserved with her thoughts – else she is not sure what she would have done in the time they’d spent together.
“How does it feel to be back in Novus, Florentine?”
tags | @
notes | <3
"speech"
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
