[AW] luminous

[Seraphina]

S E R A P H I N A

in the absence of everything
ABSTAIN FROM FEAR

--

”Peace I do not find, and I have no wish to make war; and I fear and hope, and burn and am of ice; and I fly above the heavens and lie on the ground; and I grasp nothing and embrace all the world.”

A few words for her – Avdotya’s left a chill on the back of her neck, even in the scalding heat of the sun, while Bexley’s offered some small, cold comfort. Solterra was a court of knives; now she had to appeal to it.

Seraphina stood rigidly straight and still, her gaze lingering on each and every familiar face in the crowd; the sunlight caught on the silver scars knotted beneath her coat, reminders of foolish wars waged by foolish men. Whatever ruler she would become, she thought, she would not be Zolin. She was no grandstanding fool, no coward content to languish in the grandiose halls of his fortress while his soldiers met their death on the battlefield, no monster that would send children to their deaths to extend a war that they could never win. She was not a sentimental woman – this was simply her nature. However, her ruthlessness was tempered by her pragmatism, and, though she could be cruel and detached as a winter storm, she held no particularly bloodlust. She was still uncomfortable with her freedom, with her will, with power. (She wanted to hope that was a good thing.) She masked this discomfort, as she did with all things, and maintained an air of calm that was perhaps disconcerting as she waited, patient as the grave, for silence.

Seraphina had never, in all her years, wanted to run. What many would consider horrifying was accepted with increasing ease, accepted and accepted and accepted over and over again – the taste of blood, the crack of a whip, rolling eyes, rolling eyes, rolling eyes, all pointed up towards a sun and a god they could no longer see. She should have wanted to run many times, she thought, but a sense of powerlessness had lulled her into a haze that had crept through her blood and her bones and her mind until she was absolutely sure that nothing remained of her at all, save a quiet, burning desire to survive, even if she no longer knew what she survived for. Maybe, she thought, apathy was the only way to survive it. There was no escape from what she had endured; no tears would wash it away, no screaming or kicking or fighting would have freed her from what she was made to become. It was easier that way, and perhaps no other way was possible. She did not care to linger on it; no matter the past, no matter her powerlessness, no matter how much she’d like to shake her mentor’s influence altogether and the acts she’d committed under his command, the weight of a bloody history – the court’s, if not her own - would hang as a mantle across the blades of her shoulders. (Caustic thoughts pricked at the back of her mind like thorns. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.)  Now she faced a dark, consuming cloud of uncertainty, and the shadows that lurked in the path she knew lay ahead – twisting and indiscernible, laughing - made her stomach turn.

She had never wanted to run, but, for a fraction of a second, she could picture herself flying across the dunes like a slip of silver wind, gone when daylight fell; for a moment, she pictured freedom and wondered what it would taste like if she left her shackles in the courtyard where she stood, pried the silver collar from her neck and left it the only reminder of her presence, until the sands buried it, as all things. For a moment, she imagined walking away.

Solis protect me.
And then she spoke.

“Citizens of Solterra, I am sure that, by now, you are well aware of the fate of King Maxence. He gave his life to defend our people against a Teryr, the fate of a true warrior – I imagine he would have had it no other way. I will not linger on our loss, however. We cannot afford to languish in uncertainty, disarray, and factionalism, as we did before he arrived; we will not waste his efforts to unite our people once more. Avdotya and I have discussed his successor. Should no one choose to challenge me, I will take up the mantle of Sovereign and rule in his place.” Her gaze remained utterly cool, clinical – and her tone dared anyone to challenge her claim to the throne. Seraphina had never wanted anything before. Much as it scared her, she knew that she wanted this. “Solterra has spent far too many years entrenched in our past glories, fighting meaningless wars as we struggle to maintain our reputation and refusing change at every opportunity. Our stubborn desire is all that keeps us alive among the treachery of these sands, but we mustn’t let it hinder our progress and growth, confine us to outdated mentalities and stagnation. We will not survive by brute force alone, much less grow from it. We have always prized its strength, and we will need the diverse strengths of all of our citizens to prosper in the days to come. If you are here, you already know the struggles that come from toiling among the dunes; I will waste little time describing them. I suspect you also know why we choose to stay, even in the face of brutality and tragedy. There is a beauty to this land that few recognize unless they see the glimmer of Solis’s light across the dunes, hear the whispers of the desert winds as they wind through the twists and turns of the Elatus Canyon, feel the pure satisfaction of surviving and persevering where so many others would falter. This is our home, and we would not have it otherwise.” Her gaze swept the crowd again. Seraphina was used to being entirely self-reliant. No longer could that be the case; she would have to learn to trust. “I will not lie to you - the unexpected loss of Maxence has left us with many problems that I do not yet know how to solve. I also know that we have many bright minds among us that are more than capable of finding solutions. I rarely make promises, as I have heard far too many empty ones, but I promise you that your voices will be heard, be they cries of agreement or vehement disapproval; they must be heard. If they are not, then we have truly lost our way.” She would not be Zolin, she repeated to herself – she would not smother her people, not silence them, not throw them to the wolves to fund golden palaces and gladiator fights and grandiose parties. “So I ask of you, Solterrans, to help me make this nation thrive. I do not expect it will be easy, but I have complete confidence that it is possible, because I know that none of you would still be here if you were content with easy.” Her words – an honest request – were left hanging in the air.

Perhaps her words would sway the Solterrans – perhaps they would not. She was still young, terribly young, terribly uncertain and unprepared. Even if they did, she was left with the distinct impression that her position, if she could even hold onto it, would be a battle. Her eyes swept the crowd.

Solis protect us all.

@

wow remember this thread
also I spent like two hours just messing with that speech and I still have no idea how I feel about it but uhhhh you know
ft. a quote from Petrarch because I'm feeling extra pretentious, wow
Anyways, I did want to at least move this thread along a little further; no pressure to reply if you don't want to, particularly given how long it's been since this was posted. If you do, feel free as well.
I have a reply to Lament coming soon, and those should wrap up the major threads surrounding Sera's succession. I've actually been planning things, believe it or not, so the Day Court should hopefully have some events upcoming to help bolster activity a bit - I sincerely apologize for my (lengthy) absence.
Also, please expect the laws, the updated census & ranks, and a couple of other things to be up soon, ideally sometime this weekend. I know I've been saying that for a while, but hopefully I'm actually catching up on stuff now.