[P] waiting for that morning sun

[Seraphina]

I STAY EMPTY, I FEEL THE HUNGER
so simple when I was younger

--

The Emissary was cautious by nature.

She was collected, contemplative, fettered, propelled only by a dedication to rationale and duty; even when Solterra had no sovereign, she had continued about her duties with a mechanical insistence, shackled to an equally mechanical future by a past that she could only remember in shards. Every inch of her skin seemed to reflect this restraint. Even with disjointed pain throbbing in her hindquarters, spreading like salt in the sea, her stance was stiff and rigid, muscles tense and chin raised in statuesque posture as though she felt nothing at all. She could explain the compulsion, of course, – it clung to her neck like a permanent metal noose – but, insofar as she was concerned, her behavior, abrasive or distant as it might be, like rough sandpaper or winter wind, required no explanation. The Emissary, therefore, might have been a pitiable creature if it weren’t for her perpetual obsession with distance. She was not particularly pleasant; she would never be sought out at parties for a good time or pulled aside in gaping halls of Solterra’s sandstone fortress for anything but business. For her politeness, she was not regarded poorly, but she didn’t imagine she had much of anything close or valuable among the dunes. If this bothered her, she was disinclined to change.

(She told herself, at least, that she didn’t care.)

She watched the stallion with those cold, quiet eyes, dragging them the length of his inky black form; he met her with thinly-veiled suspicion and eyes that made her stomach twist into knots – something was wrong in their emptily white depths, something colder than the dead. Tension bled from his frame as he seemed to realize that she held no ill will, but those eyes didn’t change. (She did not flinch away from those strange, apathetic eyes, however; they were disconcerting, but they held her gaze. She didn’t dare to look away.) Silence dragged out in the distance between them after the mare spoke her part, save for the incessant growl of the wind. She had always been patient by nature, and so she waited, though she did so without anticipation or eagerness. Business was business.

Her ears twitched forward to catch his words when he finally, finally spoke; the wind distorted them into ghostly echoes, but, even if she hadn’t gathered the irritation in his tone, she could see annoyance flit across his features. His accent was strange, and his dialect…archaic. She had no difficulties understanding his words, but they sounded more like words she’d read from one of the aged scrolls in the library than something she might expect to hear aloud. She didn’t spend much time considering his dialect, however, and even less to mull over his words – she had the distinct impression that she’d already made a misstep.

Words drawled coolly from her charcoal lips, though she was still forced to raise her voice over the hum of the wind; she considered moving closer to him, but she opted to keep her distance, for the time being. “Concern for my sake? I’m touched.” Her tone was lighter than usual, though, if there was any genuine humor in her voice, it was difficult to discern. “I’ll state my intentions plainly, then.” Brisk and surgical. “You seem to me a wanderer – if that is the case, I would offer you a place in Solterra. We are always in search of skilled warriors.” Seraphina was neither disingenuous nor opaque; if it was her intent he desired, she would give it to him freely. With that, she receded, her eyes never flitting free of his own as she awaited whatever response he might have to offer.

@

@Ammon - <3