Florentine walks beside Maxence; a flower to his lion’s tooth. The sun watches each step they take from where it hangs, large and heavy, in the sky. Hot, hot light dogs their every step casting shadows to stretch languidly ahead of them. The darkness mirrors their walk and pouring across the dusty ground. They dance before the predator king, a nimble thing, sleek and ready for battle.
He talks of lions and Flora’s amethyst gaze flits to the snarling lion that lies upon his spine. Its gaze is empty, and yet as fixed as any predator upon the hunt. Those eyes, glassy, yet savage, follow her every stride as she walks past the Sun king. With canyon dust still lingering upon the feathers of her wings, with her heart still beating from the ire he inspires of it, she lets the tip of a wing smooth over the ancient citadel stone.
It is warm to her touch, heating beneath her wings like skin beneath her fingertips. Up and up she gazes, to reach its highest peak and the sun that frames it - like it once crowned its king upon the canyon.
The Dusk girl is still contemplating the Lion king’s words when a creature, gunmetal grey and gilded in sunlight, slinks towards them. His voice is the first thing to draw her attention. It drawls like a lazy fingertip along the spine, designed to inspire, to arouse. The girl of bruised skies watches him beneath her lashes, her emotions secreted away for this creature was a blade, sharp and beautiful, designed to cut, and he had already set his sights upon her skin.
He directs his question to Florentine, his insult a snake’s bite upon the air. The girl does not flinch, nor even sway when baits her. What was there to deny? Rannveig was the Winter Wolf, forged from ice, relentless and enduring. She was the stranger queen.
“Of course she is.” The twilight girl affirms as she holds this stranger’s gaze. Did he not think to contemplate that dusk was the only thing that could pull the sun from the sky? Her bruise purple eyes drink in the gold of his, consuming, drowning.
“But where the lion rules the hot savanna, the wolves rule the winter lands. Like a lion wolves will work together, to bring down prey so much bigger than they.” There is no mischievous smile upon the Dusk girl’s lips, no shy blush despite the beauty of this land, the warrior and his sleek compatriot. It is unclear when the girl had shed her innocent dress of flowers and frivolous adventures, but here she is, quite suddenly old beyond her years, resplendent in the ornate garb of politics.
Dusk’s Emissary steps slowly from the stone wall of the Solterra keep, her slender legs making an idle walk towards Maxence’ compatriot. “It just depends whether you wish to pit pride against pack and see whose strategy is the most victorious, or, to find alliance with creatures capable of bringing down a creature even bigger than a lion.” From beneath her fringe of wild flowers and snarls of golden hair, she watches him as she passes on toward Velorca’s king.
Her eyes flit to Maxence then, though her words are still for them both. “I believe your king may be hoping for the latter? What we may lack in power or weapons, we more than make up for with collaboration and intelligence. A lion may not tremble before a wolf, but it will before a pack.”
@Maxence @Velorca
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
