☼ S E R A P H I N A ☼
in the end, the World takes everything.
Somewhere else, I am alive still, saying.
She wonders what it was like, to watch his world destroyed.
It is not an experience anyone would want, he says, which is obvious - and there is nothing in his voice that reveals a thing, beyond that it was terrible. She wonders what it was like, though, to watch the world wrenched raw. The gods create. She has seen Isra’s magic, which changes what it touches entirely; she has seen Asterion’s influence on the ocean, and heard strange things of magic in Delumine. She has seen the sun god spin gold from nothing, seen him grant wishes as quickly and thoughtlessly as he takes them away. And she has seen that island, which sheds its skin with each passing season.
None of them create an absence. None of them make something disappear.
As they begin to move, she tosses half a glance over her shoulder at Ereshkial, who is quick to follow in their wake; dark and sharp as an arrow-head. He introduces himself as Mauna. It isn’t a name that is quite like anything she has ever heard before, and she nearly wonders what it means. (Before Eik asked her, once, while in the library, she had never thought much of names or what they meant; now she does on impulse, though she tries to forget the incident that bore it, because it is always followed by a cruel reminder that Eik is gone, and she is changed, and nothing will ever be the same again.)
He thanks her for finding him - and then he asks for her name.
“You’re welcome,” she says, a politeness borne of obligation rather than any real emotion. It is easier than admitting to her name; she doesn’t want to. “I’m-” she forces out, and then she pauses, sucking in a deep breath. Even if she tells him her name, it will mean nothing to him, she knows - but she is sure that it will come to, if he stays in Novus for any significant period of time. It is the name of a dead woman, besides. A ghost. It is a ghost’s name, and she tells herself that cannot be one, because she is carrying children. “I’m Sera.” Not Seraphina, the burning one, silver queen of Solterra, or Fia, the gold-scarred revolutionary, a flame; just Sera, a simple name, meaning nothing. (She does not feel like any of them, lately. All those names may as well mean nothing at all.) “It’s good to meet you, Mauna.” Perhaps she is still speaking from obligation; but her tone is not unkind.
Her next words come out reluctantly; but she presses them out of her mouth regardless.
“I….don’t want to pry, but your homeland...what was it called?” She says, and then, adds quickly, so that he would not think that the question was cruel, or else pointless, “Perhaps you are not the only refugee who has come to Novus.” Even if he isn’t, she does not expect to recognize it herself, unless he is far-removed from the other refugees; she does not meet nearly so many wanderers as she used to, and she is no longer present in any form of public life.
Still. Seraphina has finally come to realize what a cruel thing it is to be lonely - and perhaps, perhaps, she can give him some hope that he is not alone.
(Perhaps, she thinks, the hope is only crueler.)
tags | @Mauna
notes | <3
quote | cynthia cruz, "letters to emily"
"speech" || "ereshkigal"
in the end, the World takes everything.
Somewhere else, I am alive still, saying.
She wonders what it was like, to watch his world destroyed.
It is not an experience anyone would want, he says, which is obvious - and there is nothing in his voice that reveals a thing, beyond that it was terrible. She wonders what it was like, though, to watch the world wrenched raw. The gods create. She has seen Isra’s magic, which changes what it touches entirely; she has seen Asterion’s influence on the ocean, and heard strange things of magic in Delumine. She has seen the sun god spin gold from nothing, seen him grant wishes as quickly and thoughtlessly as he takes them away. And she has seen that island, which sheds its skin with each passing season.
None of them create an absence. None of them make something disappear.
As they begin to move, she tosses half a glance over her shoulder at Ereshkial, who is quick to follow in their wake; dark and sharp as an arrow-head. He introduces himself as Mauna. It isn’t a name that is quite like anything she has ever heard before, and she nearly wonders what it means. (Before Eik asked her, once, while in the library, she had never thought much of names or what they meant; now she does on impulse, though she tries to forget the incident that bore it, because it is always followed by a cruel reminder that Eik is gone, and she is changed, and nothing will ever be the same again.)
He thanks her for finding him - and then he asks for her name.
“You’re welcome,” she says, a politeness borne of obligation rather than any real emotion. It is easier than admitting to her name; she doesn’t want to. “I’m-” she forces out, and then she pauses, sucking in a deep breath. Even if she tells him her name, it will mean nothing to him, she knows - but she is sure that it will come to, if he stays in Novus for any significant period of time. It is the name of a dead woman, besides. A ghost. It is a ghost’s name, and she tells herself that cannot be one, because she is carrying children. “I’m Sera.” Not Seraphina, the burning one, silver queen of Solterra, or Fia, the gold-scarred revolutionary, a flame; just Sera, a simple name, meaning nothing. (She does not feel like any of them, lately. All those names may as well mean nothing at all.) “It’s good to meet you, Mauna.” Perhaps she is still speaking from obligation; but her tone is not unkind.
Her next words come out reluctantly; but she presses them out of her mouth regardless.
“I….don’t want to pry, but your homeland...what was it called?” She says, and then, adds quickly, so that he would not think that the question was cruel, or else pointless, “Perhaps you are not the only refugee who has come to Novus.” Even if he isn’t, she does not expect to recognize it herself, unless he is far-removed from the other refugees; she does not meet nearly so many wanderers as she used to, and she is no longer present in any form of public life.
Still. Seraphina has finally come to realize what a cruel thing it is to be lonely - and perhaps, perhaps, she can give him some hope that he is not alone.
(Perhaps, she thinks, the hope is only crueler.)
tags | @
notes | <3
quote | cynthia cruz, "letters to emily"
"speech" || "ereshkigal"
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
