☼ S E R A P H I N A ☼
be an outcast / qualified to live among your dead
She isn’t sure that she is much of any good at cleaning – but at least she has grown wieldy with her telekinesis, so she does her best. Once they’ve managed to clean the cabin, she finds herself halfheartedly pulling cobwebs from Florentine’s hair whenever she looks away, her errant telekinesis eagerly attempting to remove the pale and sticky imperfections. (She much preferred her sense of neatness before it became unconscious and grew hands of its own.)
Florentine lights a fire, and she cooks some sort of broth that Seraphina does not recognize. (Winter nights are cold in Solterra, but such things are unusual there.) She takes the bowl as the golden woman turns to her with a spring-like smile on her dainty lips, and she begins to sip at it, moving closer to the fire; it keeps out the cold, and something inside of her warms further, in a strange and twitchy way, when Florentine asks her about dusting. Perhaps it is because it is simple, and friendly, and ordinary, and ordinary is what she has been longing for, above all else, for what feels like a very long time.
“I'm not sure,” she says, the faintest implication of a smile lingering on her lips – a sharp contrast, as it were, to her otherwise stony expression. “There’s really no use in trying to get rid of it all, in the desert – sand gets into everything.” (She doesn’t mention that she has spent most of her time, recently, lingering in hollowed-out caverns in the Elatus, where the exercise is even more futile.)
When darkness falls, and their conversation turns to more serious things – Seraphina realizes, quietly, that she has come no closer from their travels to knowing what she wants to do with herself now, half-dead and nearly beyond recognition. She wishes that she remembered how to be herself, or at least how to be more than the scar carved open across her cheek.
(She is not so sure that she ever will again.)
“I…don’t know,” she admits, quietly. The world is different, and so many of the people that she used to care for are gone for good. The world is different, and she is not sure that she has any home to return to, although the prospect of starting all over again “So much had changed, even before I left. I’m not sure what I’ll do.” She pauses, then, looking at Florentine as gently as she can. She knows that she is looking for her lost twins – and Novus is vast, and dangerous. “I’ll help you look for your children, though, if I can.” She doesn’t quite speak with the cadence of a question, but her voice makes clear that it is an offer.
tags | @Florentine
notes | <3
"speech"
be an outcast / qualified to live among your dead
She isn’t sure that she is much of any good at cleaning – but at least she has grown wieldy with her telekinesis, so she does her best. Once they’ve managed to clean the cabin, she finds herself halfheartedly pulling cobwebs from Florentine’s hair whenever she looks away, her errant telekinesis eagerly attempting to remove the pale and sticky imperfections. (She much preferred her sense of neatness before it became unconscious and grew hands of its own.)
Florentine lights a fire, and she cooks some sort of broth that Seraphina does not recognize. (Winter nights are cold in Solterra, but such things are unusual there.) She takes the bowl as the golden woman turns to her with a spring-like smile on her dainty lips, and she begins to sip at it, moving closer to the fire; it keeps out the cold, and something inside of her warms further, in a strange and twitchy way, when Florentine asks her about dusting. Perhaps it is because it is simple, and friendly, and ordinary, and ordinary is what she has been longing for, above all else, for what feels like a very long time.
“I'm not sure,” she says, the faintest implication of a smile lingering on her lips – a sharp contrast, as it were, to her otherwise stony expression. “There’s really no use in trying to get rid of it all, in the desert – sand gets into everything.” (She doesn’t mention that she has spent most of her time, recently, lingering in hollowed-out caverns in the Elatus, where the exercise is even more futile.)
When darkness falls, and their conversation turns to more serious things – Seraphina realizes, quietly, that she has come no closer from their travels to knowing what she wants to do with herself now, half-dead and nearly beyond recognition. She wishes that she remembered how to be herself, or at least how to be more than the scar carved open across her cheek.
(She is not so sure that she ever will again.)
“I…don’t know,” she admits, quietly. The world is different, and so many of the people that she used to care for are gone for good. The world is different, and she is not sure that she has any home to return to, although the prospect of starting all over again “So much had changed, even before I left. I’m not sure what I’ll do.” She pauses, then, looking at Florentine as gently as she can. She knows that she is looking for her lost twins – and Novus is vast, and dangerous. “I’ll help you look for your children, though, if I can.” She doesn’t quite speak with the cadence of a question, but her voice makes clear that it is an offer.
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
