BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS
something wicked this way comes--
His first comment was met with an agreeable “Hmm.” It did not imply argument; only that she had nothing more to say on the subject. She did not, after all, go looking for such things – she didn’t need to, considering her largely objective, mathematical view of tragedy and…goodness, she supposed. She wasn’t entirely sure that she knew what either meant in their entirety, nor was she apt to feel them all too much when she brushed shoulders with them. For all that she could understand in a simple sense, Seraphina still felt very little, and perhaps that was why his words lingered with her for a moment as they continued to walk. Others, she thought, did go looking for things…love, happiness, and meaning came to her mind as generic qualities almost instantaneously. Seraphina sought nothing. She did as she was told because she was told to do it, with no further rationale. There was no looking, though that hardly stopped her from seeing.
She caught his grin and watched him carefully as he spoke of parties, expression bordering on distaste. “It’s quite troublesome, I imagine, trying to entertain so many.” Much easier to be the entertained, though, given what she’d heard of parties in Denocte, brimming with danger and intrigue in spite of their drunken revelry, perhaps that assumption was inaccurate. In any case, she had trouble enough attempting to entertain any one individual for the span of a conversation – she couldn’t imagine planning the grand celebrations of the Night Court.
“We burn our dead, but I have been told that is not the custom of the rest of Novus.” She couldn’t be sure, of course – hadn’t had enough interactions with those that would handle such matters to know. Burning, however, seemed uniquely Solterran, a way of reuniting with Solis in death. She couldn’t imagine Caligo’s children burning their dead, at any rate. Seraphina seemed slightly amused by his comment, and, with a knowing tilt of her head, offered, “It is simply a matter of knowing where to look.” The desert landscape adhered to those who gave their sweat for secrets, and she’d paid her dues several times over. Even with all the time she spent locked behind the sandstone walls of the capitol, she knew Solterra’s sands better than she knew herself, and no amount of distance or time spent away would eat away at what she’d learned in blood.
He commented on the Arma Mountains, and his words put her in mind of that boy – Damascus – she’d met while searching for the relic of Tempus. She considered him carefully, considered how quickly storms could roll in on the peaks…wings would do little to help you then. “I suppose so.” They would certainly help at any other time, though, and the citizens of Denocte had no need to worry about massive creatures swooping out of the sky to swallow them up in their jaws. (Teryrs, along with other horrors – sandwyrms came to mind immediately – were a uniquely Solterran problem. She’d occasionally seen her winged comrades, so much less agile in the skies, plucked out of them by a hunting Teryr…particularly in the canyons.)
The desert heat began to give way, canyons slumping lower at her sides; they were at the border.
As he turned back to look at her, obviously intending to part ways, she again took note of his expression; there was something different about it, and a part of her wondered if she’d managed to garner some approval with the messenger, or…whatever he was. Certainly a creature of Denocte, through and through. There was something about him that struck her as distinctly broken, something that had never healed right – and then, rather than hiding that broken thing, he made it who he was. “Of course.” That was only one reason why she intended to speak to Rhoswen – but she certainly would deliver his message. If Rhoswen was close enough to Denocte for the Night King to contact her to help coordinate her celebrations, she could use that relationship as she attempted to soothe tensions between the two nations…which seemed increasingly unlikely with each passing day, not least because not all of her fellows shared her rationality. “Travel safely, Acton.” This was a surprisingly genuine farewell; she was not a particularly malicious creature by nature, though she did acknowledge the trouble it would bring on her own head (or, rather Solterra’s) if he met trouble near the borders.
With that, she disappeared back into the labyrinth, swift as the desert wind.
@Acton - finishing this up <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
