[P] to never do anything by half-measures;

[Seraphina]

S E R A P H I N A

in the absence of everything
ABSTAIN FROM FEAR

--

“Maxence.”

She did not turn to meet his eyes as she heard him approach – there was something to the way his hooves beat against the weathered sandstone, some unmistakable air of command. Seraphina would know him anywhere, though he left her with the distinct impression that she knew nothing of him at all. Her eyes rather stayed on the red-orange rays of sunrise that hung in an ominous haze on the gold-dipped waves of the horizon, lips drawn into a firm line and body stiff as carved marble. Were they at the sea, this would be the sort of sunrise that sailors feared, the sort of sunrise that preluded crashing waves and sunken ships – but Seraphina was not an ocean.

She was ice.

“I have a few matters that I would like to address.” Cool, polite; punctuated with a swish of her ghostly white tail, as though to swipe away the heat that had yet to arrive. “Foremost, I spoke to Inkheart several days ago, and she asked me to relay a matter to you when next we met – she seeks to build a temple to Solis. I believe that it would be in our best interest to prioritize building the temple. We are not yet a unified whole, but religion binds most of us together. It would be good for morale, and, perhaps, it could bind our people closer together.” Inkheart proposed the idea out of her devotion to Solis, she imagined, but, though Seraphina was religious herself, she was quick to see the other benefits that building a temple could provide. Sentiment had no place in matters of policy.

“Further,” A swift continuation, “We seek to align ourselves with the Dusk Court, correct? I would propose that we arrange some sort of activity with the Terrastellans. A celebration perhaps, or something similar – a festival? If we seek their assistance, then we would do well to paint ourselves as a hospitable and stable nation, capable of fending for ourselves and aiding them. We must appear bountiful, regardless of whether or not we actually are. I would be interested in speaking with the Emissary of the Dusk Court, with your permission, about arranging such an event…breaking bread together makes for close fellows.” She had never arranged anything before in her life, but she’d seen – and heard – how abrasively those few Dusk Courtiers that had braved the viciousness of Solterra to visit the Day Court had been treated. Now more than ever, with tensions with Denocte heating up, they needed a steadfast ally.

Which brought her to a matter that stung on her tongue.

It was this notion that finally caused her to turn, eyes meeting her sovereign’s; there was little she could do to hide the hint of accusation, of betrayal, in her steely gaze. “And then…there is the matter of Rostislav.” What could she say? Seraphina was a creature of restraint, and she’d spent her entire life as a well-sharpened knife, meant to be used and used and used and thrown away the second that she blunted. Perhaps she was wrong to have believed that he chose her for her wisdom or her consult – perhaps it was simply a ploy to get another native onto his council, a way of quieting those dissenting voices that hissed at the prospect of a foreign sovereign.

She pushed those disquieting thoughts away, as usual.

“What do you intend to do with him?” The past could not be changed. The future was her concern, and, right now, she smelled blood on the wind.

@


@Maxence - <3