[P] She walks a lonely road

[Marisol]

blessed in spirit are the poor

Of course Marisol loves her country and its people. Oftentimes they have been the only thing to tie her down—the only thing that keeps her from taking to the sky, or tumbling into the sea, and disappearing forever. It is their need of her, their reliance on her leadership and strength, that gives her life any purpose at all. 

That being said: she was raised more devout than most, and there are times when she wonders whether the average Terrastellan has forgotten what it is they are meant to worship. So often the churches are empty. So often Marisol finds her cadets sleeping in and wonders if every generation is destined to grow softer and softer, until they cannot protect their country at all—until they don’t even want to. So often, the Commander feels as though she is the only thread of the old world left in their tapestry. It is a feeling that chokes her up with fear.

But the look in Mephisto’s eyes, the candor in her voice; the strength in her shoulders and the proud tilt of her head, all tell Marisol they are cut from the same cloth. Something about that is deeply soothing.

The taste of mint still seeping over her tongue, she watches Mephisto take a sip of tea. Steam rises from the cup in the faint shape of a question mark. Between them the air is warm and still, turned a dusty gold from the bars of summer sunlight that fall in through the windows and skylight. Marisol listens to the warg’s explanation with an expression of cool reservation—eyes unwaveringly fixed on Mephisto’s, ears tipped forward, tail swishing behind her absentmindedly.

A minute later, when the explanation comes to a close, Marisol pauses before she speaks. It is a habit she picked up in childhood, one that often unsettles others—the long lapse of silence between the end of one sentence and the beginning of another, as she is nothing if not careful with her words. (And careful with her decisions. The one she has just come to is unusual—unexpected, even for her—but it is Vespera’s voice in her head, and the pure instinct in her gut, that pushes her forward.)

“I know such a… sudden promotion is unusual,” Marisol says slowly. “But our old warden has disappeared, and the people deserve a protector. I know you’re capable of fighting, and with your new—power—perhaps you would be well-suited to watching over everyone.”

"Speaking."

queen marisol

credits