YOU'RE GONE BUT YOU'RE ON MY MINDI'm lost but I don't know why--
To keep herself from falling asleep, tucked in the midst of hot wind and shade, Seraphina began to file through what she remembered of the hundreds of pages of history that she’d been studying for the past few weeks, trying to recite each useless treatise (useless because most of the current sovereigns were foreign, and most of the treatises had long ago been forgotten or disobeyed) and long-winded diatribe or inspiring speech with something akin to accuracy. Her peace was not long for this world, however; she found herself tugged abruptly from her musings by a spray of cold water, soaking her chest and throat. Seraphina took as step back, mismatched eyes blinking open to sudden brightness and brilliant gold, half-glaring in the light. As her eyes came into focus, she realized that she was staring at a rather sheepish-looking golden stallion – Solis, he was bright. Pale gold, but metallic bright, nearly blinding in the light of the sun. His face was white as new-fallen snow, his eyes brilliant blue as winter ice, and he lacked a mane, though Seraphina thought that she caught glimpse of a hint of starspun white tail, nearly obscured from her view. He was a delicate, graceful creature, built for speed and endurance rather than the heat and violence of battle, more beautiful than violent; and perhaps that was for the best, even in a nation of warriors, for his eyes held a gentility unbefitting of a warhorse.
She’d seen him once or twice in passing, but never long enough to learn his name; inwardly, she cursed herself, because she’d always kept up with the Day Court’s citizens in the past. He was a sage – of that, she was somewhat certain. But he’d asked her a question. “You did,” She drawled, thick accent of the day court seeping into her every syllable, with that bizarre, dry calm that gave away absolutely nothing of her emotional state (she could be boiling over or sobbing, and you’d never know) and a dip of her elegant silver head, “but the heat makes it difficult to complain.” If Seraphina were a creature better-versed in social interaction, this might have been the point where she would offer him a well-meaning half-smile or at least a curl of her lips, but her expression showed nothing at all. “You are one of the sages, correct? I am Seraphina, w- the Emissary of the Day Court.” She nearly stumbles over her title, (It still felt wrong on her tongue, a foreign substance.) but her gaze continued to linger on the golden boy, never removing itself from his frigid blue eyes.
@Vadim <3
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
