BETWEEN MY HANDS REST FIFTY-TWO PLAIN OLD PLAYING CARDS
and I trapped god somewhere between the trump and the king of hearts--
Seraphina cascaded across the rolling dunes, silver coated stained with glittering gold wherever it clung to her sweat-stained limbs; she spent less time in the Mors, now that she was no longer a warrior, but the sensation of sand crumbling and skidding beneath her hooves remained familiar, even soothing. With her head still spinning from the past weeks’ events, she needed all the familiarity that she could manage. While engulfed in such a physical sensation, the heat of the sun on her spine and the twitch of her muscles beneath her, she could almost forget the dull panic that had remained a constant throbbing in the back of her head ever since she had found herself (or, more accurately, willed herself to be) named sovereign. She had flipped her own world on its head, and she still wasn’t sure how it felt – nevertheless, determination and persistence had always been her strongest suits, so she tried to assure herself that she would piece it together eventually. For now, she had more constructive matters to focus on than her own uncertainty. A beast was on the loose in Solterra, the garden that they had struggled to create was in shambles, and her people’s place in Novus remained uncertain.
There was work to be done – all in due time.
As she crested a great dune, she spotted an aberration to the seemingly-endless sea of sand. A dunskin stallion – large, though not especially massive, by comparison to some of the others in Solterra – wandering the Mors, entirely unfamiliar to her. She eyed him for a moment, before, with a sudden surge of motion, she made her way to his side. “Hello, stranger,” Came her quiet, cool voice, richly accented, once she judged herself to be within earshot. “You seem to be lost.” Now that she stood closer to him, she could make out his form more easily – skeletal markings and birdcatcher spots interrupted the dun of his coat, and his eyes were odd, one the pale blue of ice and the other a violent red. Despite his intimidating stature, he seemed more tragic than anything; his movements seemed to her burdened by a sadness that she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps he had just arrived in Novus? It wouldn’t be the first time that a stranger had simply fallen into the lands of the Day Court, nor would it be the first time that Seraphina had witnessed someone just after their arrival. With that in mind, she waited patiently for whatever he might have to say; if he really was a newcomer, he would be looking for a home, and she would not be apt to turn anyone away from her court right now. At the very least, she could lead him to the Oasis so he didn’t die of thirst before he found his way out of the Mors, a grim fate that she had seen all too many fall victim to in her years among the sands.
@Astarot - hi <3
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
