She was pulled from her reflections by the sound of hooves against stone. Seraphina’s gaze was drawn up to meet the source at precisely the same time he offered his greetings, odd eyes darting the length of his frame. The stallion reminded her of an oak tree – his frame was muscular and powerful, and, though she wouldn’t call him bulky, his was most definitely an intimidating figure. His coat was a canvas of earthen tones, a mesh of damp soil and clay, shades of red and brown like canyon walls at night or polished wooden walls; a hint of white occupied his forehead and limbs, and his eyes were like molten quicksilver. Wild coils of inky black formed his mane and tail, gleaming like silk in the bright sunlight. He offered her a brilliant smile that struck her as genuine, though she knew better than to trust first impressions; it was only when he asked her a question, amused gaze lingering momentarily on the lizard, that she realized that his voice sounded quite like music or poetry, lilting and expressive like a storyteller. The look that she greeted him with was not openly suspicious, though there was no hint of blind trust in her steely features either.
She remained cold and impassive as the grave even as she spoke, silky tones methodical and mechanical, “Good day, stranger. I imagine that you have heard of the relic of Tempus? I have been searching for it, though I have had little luck so far.” She paused for a moment, taking in his scent in hopes of pinpointing his affiliation – it was muddled with incense and herbs that she couldn’t quite place, though she thought that she caught a whiff of Denocte. “What brings you to Solterra, stranger? I don’t believe I recognize you, but forgive me if you are one of our own.” He was likely a warrior, unless he simply enjoyed squandering his own genetics, and Seraphina generally made it her business to know the Day Court’s warriors.
It was only the darkest of movements from the very corner of her eye that drew Seraphina’s attention from her present quarry; her gaze flitted down to the Oasis, coming to an abrupt halt on a familiar black-and-teal, antlered figure. “You again.” Her voice rang out dryly, odd eyes skirting his frame. He didn’t seem to be causing any trouble, so her tone was absent of any accusation. If anything, it seemed like an observation, same as calling the sky blue or the grass green - Seraphina knew that she didn't have the authority to stop him unless he caused trouble, nor did she have any interest in doing so.
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
