[P] honey & ichor

[Seraphina]

The sunset draped the metallic silver mare in hues of blood red and violent orange, casting odd, jagged shadows along her snaking form as she wove her way through the tangle of spiny underbrush and gnarled date palm, hips just grazing leaves brittle and nearly-dead from heat and dehydration; but it was bearable now, unlike the heat of midafternoon, the heat that left her sides sweat-soaked and heaving. Sand and grime clung to her legs like a second skin, just brushing the length of her stomach and chest, and her limbs heaved with adrenaline and exhilaration; she had been out since dawn. Her tongue felt heavy and dry in her mouth, and her lungs and throat felt impossibly dry – a breath was like being cut with a knife. For some reason or another (the familiarity, she told herself, the familiarity) she found the sensation pleasing, even comforting, a concrete sign that she was managing to get something done, even if it was somewhat irrelevant to her new position. Seraphina told herself that she couldn’t afford to slack, regardless of whether or not her job actually entailed of bashing skulls together. The Day Court’s very essence was intertwined with warfare and violence, and, if she was to be its representative, she’d best entailed what it was meant to value.


The last rays of light are fading on the horizon when she clambers to the bank of the Oasis, head dipped to take hearty gulps of cool water – perhaps it isn’t really cool, but anything to quench her thirst is suitable. Telekinesis eagerly unwinds her hair from its braids; it clumps against her skin, sticky and heavy with sweat, and she strides out into the depths of the pool to wash it clean. She splashes clear blue sky, tainted silver and black with the arrival of night against her skin and relishes in the sensation, muddying the water about her slender form. When she finally feels clean again, she retreats towards the shallows, but finds her way to one of more secluded sections of the Oasis, sheltered by the rocks that led up to the waterfall and low-hanging palms. She plucks a few dates that dangle dangerously close to the water’s surface in her teeth on her way into the small, sheltered enclave and deposits them neatly on the bank for later; for now, she droops down into the water, allowing it to ebb and flow gently against her sides as her legs buckle beneath her.



@Rhoswen - <3