[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

--

She offered a brisk nod to his response to the temple; Seraphina had expected as much. She had expected as much. Inkheart was certainly devoted to Solis, and, she hoped, devoted to his Court by extension, but she was a devious and zealous woman, and, as much faith as she had in her sun god, Seraphina was apt to doubt his prophetess. Nonetheless, she’d given the devil her due and reported to the commander faithfully, as she had commanded. She cared more for efficiency than factionalism or personal opinion – the matter was out of her metaphorical hands, now, and Maxence could deal with his Champion as he saw fit. “I would consult with the rest of your Champions and your Warden regarding their intentions and desires, as well, if you have not,” She added quickly. “When I spoke with her, she struck me as somewhat frustrated because she felt she had no orders to follow – some of the others might feel similarly, or have propositions of their own.” If he hoped to succeed as a Sovereign, he had to use all of his people – his eyes, ears, and arms – to his advantage, and he had to have some degree of faith in their abilities. They were his greatest assets, after all.

As he affirmed her ‘celebration’ with the Dusk Court, Seraphina began to craft a mental list of what supplies and connections she would need to put it on successfully. “I’ll send notice to Emissary Florentine once we’re done here,” She said, almost absently. (Would they have grown anything from the garden by then?) “I’ll see what I can do about discussing matters with Bexley, as well…I imagine that she – and her fellows – will have an opinion on how best to organize this celebration, and it is of the utmost importance that this celebration go smoothly.”That notion brought a sour taste to her mouth. “I will see what I can do to resolve some of the concerns I have heard around the court. We wouldn’t want venomous tongues to compromise our efforts.” That meant involving the entire court, eventually – but she first needed a layout, and she needed to speak to Florentine to assess whether or not a joint celebration was even possible. No need to get ahead of herself. Her focus returned to Maxence.

It was all that she could do not to gape at his next words.

She looked at him in bewilderment for a long moment, before her eyes narrowed. Did he think that they could simply return him? That it would be so simple? Blood had been spilt, and blood was all too often paid for in blood. “I understand your intentions,” Seraphina said, almost without realizing that she was speaking, “but I do not think that anything will be resolved so easily.” She took a step towards him, chin slightly elevated to stare directly into his eyes. “Rostislav is now the Warden of the Night Court. It is entirely possible that Denocte will perceive this as an act of war, particularly given the…let us say emotional nature of their Sovereign.”

Seraphina let her words hang empty in the air between them. She felt like she imagined a bird would when struck from the sky, free-wheeling, falling, confused -

about to hit the ground.

@


@Maxence - <3 also, if you were wondering about the title - this poem!