It was time. Dawn was breaking on a new day – on a new era. Time was a funny thing, and it marched on whether those who lived within it were ready or not. Sure, they were still in mourning – but Voltaire understood the mentality of a warrior tribe. They must move forward, lest they be left to rot in the desert sun. They were vulnerable without a leader, even with all of the Type A warrior personalities here – for without leadership, they would turn against one another, and fight at odds until one ended up on top of the bloody heap. This was more civilized. Maxence would have wanted them to move forward.
He was one of the first to arrive, but shrank back from the foreground to see what would happen. The blue stallion would support whoever ended up being the leader here – he had no dog in the fight… but it was a curious thing when he watched @Avdotya step from the shadows and join @Seraphina. There was no malice here – at least not outwardly. At the moment, it seemed the world of Solterra was at peace with her decision to step up.
The healer watched in silence, bowing to the queen presumptive, a clear sign of loyalty to her as he’d been loyal to Maxence before her. And beneath the burning sun, today they would crown their next. Today, life would march on. He knew the others would come – some in agreement with this decision, and likely others who apposed the grey mare’s rise to the throne. But this was part of life too – for there could be no affirmative decisions without the voice of contrast. And so, Voltaire waits, to see what would unfold in the crucial moments before Seraphina’s coronation.
