Israfel
The Sun Daughter’s chambers were her shelter. It was there that she paid homage to a land long-gone, a place that she would never again feel beneath her hooves or see with her own eyes. It was a place she would only visit in her dreams. Within her personal chambers, barred from everyone within the Court, hung tapestries and silken drapes of fine golds and crimsons, intersected with drapes the color of rich ivory and smooth slate. The colors of her heritage. The colors of Gods and Saints. Of one God and one Saint. They intersected, weaving across the ceilings, draping down the walls, blocking the windows. Cushions and quilts of like colors lay strewn about the room. A small desk, in disarray with books halfway read, sat in the corner. Upon one wall, a painting in black ink, crafted from the Sun Daughter’s own memory. A map. A map of Helovia. This was her haven. Her sanctuary. Here, the Sun God of Helovia and Smoke the Wild Rose lived on forever, just as they did within her very being.
Not just anyone was permitted within her sanctuary. There had only been one, and now he was gone. Gone. Just like everyone else she had loved and cared about.
Bitterness had never tasted so cruel.
Vermilion eyes cast towards the door, a frown tugging at rose-kissed lips upon spotting the petal that fluttered in beneath the door. Israfel hadn’t wanted to be interrupted, but it was Florentine. The Queen of Terrastella. Her words, no matter how much Israfel may question them at times, were law… And she was bound by oath to follow. But did she dare let Florentine into her shelter? Her sanctuary? Dare she display such intimate privacy before the Queen?
Fuck it.
“Come in,” the shield-maiden beckoned softly, eyes blazing like burning coals as she watched the door from her spot by the open window, crimson silk drapes pulled away so that she could watch the colors of dawn arise from the comfort of her own quarters. Soon she would need to be out on patrol. For now, however, she intended to grant her Queen an audience.
It was only when the door had opened and Florentine would dare her first step within the Sun Daughter’s sanctuary that Israfel would speak. Her head tilted slightly, jaw raised, vermilion eyes locked on the golden lady’s stature. Israfel smiled. “Good morning, Florentine. It’s rather early, isn’t it?” Almost too early for a visit, but it wasn’t like the gilded maiden had been sleeping anyway. This was hardly an unwarranted interruption. “Is everything well?” She would wait to bring up her own misgivings, her own concerns. She would wait to ask her ’why?’
“Come in, please. Make yourself comfortable. You look tired.”
Not just anyone was permitted within her sanctuary. There had only been one, and now he was gone. Gone. Just like everyone else she had loved and cared about.
Bitterness had never tasted so cruel.
Vermilion eyes cast towards the door, a frown tugging at rose-kissed lips upon spotting the petal that fluttered in beneath the door. Israfel hadn’t wanted to be interrupted, but it was Florentine. The Queen of Terrastella. Her words, no matter how much Israfel may question them at times, were law… And she was bound by oath to follow. But did she dare let Florentine into her shelter? Her sanctuary? Dare she display such intimate privacy before the Queen?
Fuck it.
“Come in,” the shield-maiden beckoned softly, eyes blazing like burning coals as she watched the door from her spot by the open window, crimson silk drapes pulled away so that she could watch the colors of dawn arise from the comfort of her own quarters. Soon she would need to be out on patrol. For now, however, she intended to grant her Queen an audience.
It was only when the door had opened and Florentine would dare her first step within the Sun Daughter’s sanctuary that Israfel would speak. Her head tilted slightly, jaw raised, vermilion eyes locked on the golden lady’s stature. Israfel smiled. “Good morning, Florentine. It’s rather early, isn’t it?” Almost too early for a visit, but it wasn’t like the gilded maiden had been sleeping anyway. This was hardly an unwarranted interruption. “Is everything well?” She would wait to bring up her own misgivings, her own concerns. She would wait to ask her ’why?’
“Come in, please. Make yourself comfortable. You look tired.”
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