I'M NOT CRAZY,
but when the sun split / him wide, he left me this, look, / my body veined in soot.☼
For what it is worth, Seraphina listens.
She has never been good. Worse, she has never been much good at being good; she has never known the right words to say, or the right moves to make, or the right way to make herself seem like someone who wants to be good. Still, when the man speaks, though she cannot understand him, and though she has a feeling that she is poorly-equipped to understand even the barest sentiment of what is troubling his heart, Seraphina listens. It is what her mother would do, she thinks, if she were here – and she came here seeking her, knowing that she would never be able to find her.
(The only place she can find her, she supposes, as she glances at her own reflection, is buried somewhere inside of her, in the sharp angles of her own face.)
So – Seraphina listens. She listens to him speak of what he hoped to find in these mirrors, and why he sought it, and, when he tells her that he hoped to see a reality where he was a good monk, she asks, “And what has made you a poor monk?” All she sees in his reflection is love – and, much as she struggles with it, she cannot think of it as anything to be ashamed of.
When he finishes speaking, he is looking at her.
She tilts her head at him ever so slowly, and she looks between the shadows drawn on his face and his reflection in the mirror, her lips creasing into a line that is not quite concerned. “Why aren’t you supposed to have those things that you desire?” Perhaps it is a naïve question – perhaps it is a question that could only come from such a sun-kissed creature. Seraphina knows nothing of his Night Order, nor of his devotion to Caligo; she does not know what it means to be forced to love a god so deeply that it becomes offense to love anyone else. The only religion she knows is the sun, and even then she has struggled with it. She is almost sure that she has seen more of Solis than any other person alive, but, even now, pregnant with two children that he blessed into existence, she has never been able to get any answers from him; she has never been loved by him, either. What she can say is that he listens – or she hopes that he does. That is all she has ever wanted from him.
In her mind, there is a god of fire and war and every bright thing.
In her mind, the idea of god is incompatible with the idea of love.
@Tenebrae || <3 <3 <3 || rebecca dunham, "elegy for the eleven" ; title "Notname," Lyd Havens
Sera || Eresh
but when the sun split / him wide, he left me this, look, / my body veined in soot.☼
For what it is worth, Seraphina listens.
She has never been good. Worse, she has never been much good at being good; she has never known the right words to say, or the right moves to make, or the right way to make herself seem like someone who wants to be good. Still, when the man speaks, though she cannot understand him, and though she has a feeling that she is poorly-equipped to understand even the barest sentiment of what is troubling his heart, Seraphina listens. It is what her mother would do, she thinks, if she were here – and she came here seeking her, knowing that she would never be able to find her.
(The only place she can find her, she supposes, as she glances at her own reflection, is buried somewhere inside of her, in the sharp angles of her own face.)
So – Seraphina listens. She listens to him speak of what he hoped to find in these mirrors, and why he sought it, and, when he tells her that he hoped to see a reality where he was a good monk, she asks, “And what has made you a poor monk?” All she sees in his reflection is love – and, much as she struggles with it, she cannot think of it as anything to be ashamed of.
When he finishes speaking, he is looking at her.
She tilts her head at him ever so slowly, and she looks between the shadows drawn on his face and his reflection in the mirror, her lips creasing into a line that is not quite concerned. “Why aren’t you supposed to have those things that you desire?” Perhaps it is a naïve question – perhaps it is a question that could only come from such a sun-kissed creature. Seraphina knows nothing of his Night Order, nor of his devotion to Caligo; she does not know what it means to be forced to love a god so deeply that it becomes offense to love anyone else. The only religion she knows is the sun, and even then she has struggled with it. She is almost sure that she has seen more of Solis than any other person alive, but, even now, pregnant with two children that he blessed into existence, she has never been able to get any answers from him; she has never been loved by him, either. What she can say is that he listens – or she hopes that he does. That is all she has ever wanted from him.
In her mind, there is a god of fire and war and every bright thing.
In her mind, the idea of god is incompatible with the idea of love.
@Tenebrae || <3 <3 <3 || rebecca dunham, "elegy for the eleven" ; title "Notname," Lyd Havens
Sera || Eresh
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
