Lucid reverence, floating in your sacred sin
Need your fire against my skin
Cosmic violence, chill's drippin' like acid rain
Keep coming back 'cause it's you I crave
Need your fire against my skin
Cosmic violence, chill's drippin' like acid rain
Keep coming back 'cause it's you I crave
His words are obnoxious.
It’s a wonder he even became King, as a man who clearly has no passion.
He speaks as though it is some great tragedy to come here, as though she was the one so encumbered by his presence, as though she was the one who traveled dozens of miles to a foreign land to stand audience with a foreign Sovereign. It was melodramatic, and briefly, Israfel wondered just how long this fool of a man would hold his crown before some petulant young fuck showed up and overthrew him.
Gods knew if he fought like he showed passion, it wouldn’t even be a challenge.
Isra’s vermilion eyes glance back at Solaris throughout the man’s little monotonous tirade, who sat roosting politely upon the back of her throne, very much not on fire at the moment. She cocked a brow, wondering at Leviathan’s statement of ‘flaming fireball’. “Solaris, did you burn up Solterra while you were there?”
Solaris gave a trill, an internal snort. ‘Not a thing, Isra. I never even ignited.’
She chuckled, a rich, deep timbre that echoed in the otherwise empty room. Israfel was not a Queen. She was not a ’lady’. She was a soldier, a Champion of Battle, a Warden, a Regent, a Battlemage, and now a Queen. She fought, and bled, and suffered to get where she was, and she didn’t give a shit about this man’s lack of respect to her. Her arrogant sarcasm and lackadaisical attitude was earned, because she had bled and suffered for the right of it. Gods knew that Israfel had suffered far worse at the hands of an arrogant man, but she would not stand the disrespect towards the Court she ruled.
“Do you run your kingdom with such lackluster disregard, Leviathan?” She asked at last, the question genuinely curious. “I really don’t give a shit, before you answer; I’m just curious. How you run your Court is your own fucking business; gods know you can’t do worse than the fuckers that came before you.” Maybe. Hopefully.
Stepping down from the dias, Israfel grew closer to the scarred brute in her throne room. Her body moved confidently, a casual sashay, that bespoke of years of militaristic prowess and ability. Gilded wings remained folded and tight against her back and shoulders, and while she did not match his imposing height, there was nothing about this man that daunted her. Especially here. Yet even if she stood in his Court, there would be no fear in her breast.
Leviathan hardly seemed the man to instill anything at the moment, other than disappointment. Still, she caught his eye, vermilion depths glittering like rubies, and she chuckled.
“I invited you here to talk. But if you want to measure dicks, we can do that, instead.” She paused, arched a brow, and gave a suggestive twist to her hips in a way no true ‘queen’ would ever dream of doing before going on. “All I ask is that you respect my Court, while you’re here, because I really don’t care if you respect me. It’s been a very long time since the Sovereigns of Day and Night met in one place and had a civil conversation; I was hoping we could start something a little different.”
She thought, briefly, to Luvena. Already she could see the stern disappointment that wrought the woman’s gaunt face, and she sighed. Ruby red eyes focused once more on the brute and she relaxed, and decided to show a bit of honesty here, risking this touch of vulnerability for the betterment of her Court.
“I have been taken advantage of before, Leviathan. I’m… Sorry, if I came off the wrong way, but being defensive is in my nature. I’m very much as hot-headed as my fires, and not knowing anything about you, well… I needed to take precautions, for Denocte, given our Court’s respective history. I wasn’t raised in this courtly bullshit; this is all new to me; I served Novus for years as a soldier, as a Warden, and then some. That is where my ability lies; I’d rather kick something until it stopped moving than try and use a silver tongue I really don’t have. You aren’t the only one who hates ‘playing games’, as you say, but for some reason you mistake my weird form of sincerity for entertainment, for games. But if you don’t want to stand here and talk, like adults, then you can leave.”
There was an arrogance about him that she didn’t like. For someone who was clearly ‘tired’, who came here ‘for the betterment of his court’, there was a pride about him that was self-destructive. They were similar in that regard, it seemed.
“I swear, Leviathan, that while you think this might be a game, I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” Except for Luvena, but this fucker didn’t need to know about her. Not right now.
