YOU WANNA TAKE A DRINK OF THAT PROMISED LANDgotta wipe the dirt off of your hands--
Seraphina watched the golden girl descend from the heavens in silence; she was like some celestial being, pale coat glowing like some ethereal beacon in the moonlight. Florentine was beautiful, she thought, small and slender and soft, engulfed in soft feathers and long, silken tresses tangled with sweet purple flowers. She felt strange standing alongside her, like sandpaper brushed up against something made of silk; Seraphina was rough and dead as the desert from whence she came, and she felt indescribably bizarre alongside this girl who hailed from lands of verdant green, as thoroughly entangled with the concept of wild as they were alive. She wondered for a moment who Florentine was – she felt that she’d gathered nothing from the gentle smiles and the soft voice, the gold and the sweet, sweet flowers. Perhaps, she considered, perhaps she was just unaccustomed to others wearing their hearts on their sleeves.
She dipped her head stiffly in greeting to the other Emissary, lips not even twitching in a ghost of a smile as she turned to meet her amethyst eyes with her own mismatched chips of glass. “In truth,” She admits, voice low and rasping from desert wind, “the heat can be bitter even to one who is accustomed to it. I appreciate your coming.” Seraphina hadn’t been sure how the Emissary would react to her invitation – she knew that her court could be abrasive, and she wasn’t sure about how Florentine’s previous interactions with the Solterrans had gone. “Have you spent much time in Solterra?” Perhaps the other Emissaries were more apt to traveling for their duties; she’d spent most of her time locked in the back of the library, restrained to bedrest for the sake of healing one injury or another. If she stopped getting into fights, she supposed she might be a more effective diplomat, but Solterra was a nation of warriors. It wouldn’t do to for their representative to be in anything less than fighting form.
She had questions, of course – a request for the other Emissary, to say the least. (Seraphina wondered, a bit anxiously, if she would agree to her proposition. She imagined that the Dusk girl would enjoy a celebration, but Seraphina herself was completely unaccustomed to arranging them. She supposed that was where Bexley came in, though.) It seemed unfair to spring her suggestion on Florentine immediately, however, so Seraphina supposed that she would suffer her way through a bit of small talk before she proposed the joint celebration…
If nothing else, she supposed she might learn a bit more about who Florentine was, beneath her celestial golden coat and dazzling smile.
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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
