antiope
/
in me forever the charge of Other,
the blood of my unconscious,
the dark song in me from elsewhere—
the blood of my unconscious,
the dark song in me from elsewhere—
When Morrighan stands, Antiope does too. She rises alongside the other woman, as though they are one, as though they are in this together. While the sovereign cannot fix Morrighan’s problems for her, while she cannot make up for the time and the moments that she has already lost, she will be there to help the woman in any way that she needs it in the future.
While it should not have come to this, now that it has, she knows that the Regent will likely need support, and perhaps a more watchful eye over the coming weeks.
Morrighan clears her throat, and speaks. Antiope says nothing, because she has said everything that needed to be said. There is little use in rubbing further salt into raw wounds, so all she does is offer quiet, understanding silence. A sort of knowing reticence. What Antiope hopes is that she can take her Regent at her word. What she hopes is that this intervention, as it were, has really worked.
She nods solemnly as Morrighan turns to go, and for a long moment simply watches her leave. Antiope has never truly known friendship, before. Not in the jungles, or on the battlefield. She did not have friends but followers and reverence. She wonders—as she turns back the way she had come—if this is what it is to have friends; to collect them from the dark, and carry them back to the light. To right them, when they are fallen, and guide them when they are lost.
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned