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Rhoswen ►
Perhaps it was the metallic, rancorous redolence of the birthblood, dried like a promise upon the curves of her thighs and hips, that obscured the scent of carnage upon the stifled breeze. Perhaps her awareness had been dulled by labor; her mind but a lowly lit mire of fatigue and distress. Who was to say just why a heavily pregnant woman had undertaken such a pilgrimage alone, if not to expect the trouble she now found herself submerged within. Whatever the answer, whatever the explanation, it did not change the dilemma presented to Rhoswen now. Should they push on, still, across the sinking darkness toward the citadel, or seek a meagre sanctuary within the echoes of Solis' canyon. The filly at her shoulder rested a velveteen muzzle on her skin, eyes the colour of eggshell electric hidden behind drooping lids. Rhoswen swallowed, she had never been ready for this.
Then, something changed. The air moved, parted, flinched. From who? Rhos stiffened into an asphyxiated suspension of fear and vigilance, her arched swanlike neck snaking lower to the ground as she shifted her body in front of the girl. Hormones raged like gunpowder in the oil slick of her blood and she knew, with a blinding and impulsive certainty, that nobody would touch the shaking infant at her flank. Not over her fucking dead body. And so they waited in the gloom with only the emerging incandescence of Calligo's moonlight to illuminate the path - for night fell quickly in the desert, blink too long and there it would be: predatory and wolfish.
A shift in the shadows, a glint of silver, a long rising stride to break the sun. Seraphina.
Rhoswen breathed, her lungs grasping for the air it had been denied for minutes too long and the steel-wrought muscles wound throughout her entire frame eased, just an inch. It was a fleeting relief. For upon her unhurried appearance Solterra's sovereign carried too the apparent weight of a thousand narratives; it was etched on her skin, in her eyes, through the brilliant white of her hair and in a moment, the blood was drained from Rhoswen's skull. Dread filled her bones and oozed like cooling magma from her pores; she did not need the power of Sight to know an atrocity had besieged Solterra. Her child recoiled from the morbid statue before them, nickering faintly in fear, but Rhoswen did not flinch - she could not; she had no right. Her name sounded like a threat on the lips of their leader - a leader she barely knew in truth, but for the counsels and the meetings, and yet still, a leader that had morphed into something unrecognisable since the last time Rhos had seen her from afar. Rhoswen's mouth is dry as she listens to the words falling like bullets from Seraphina's mouth - the capitol was unsafe. An unusually compliant nod of her fine-china head, before turning to bump her silent foal in the direction of the queen. To say she trusted implicitly Sera would be an untruth, but the alternative of lingering out here alone was nothing short of a death sentence now.
Silently, they walked. The red woman's mind is a labyrinth of possibilities, of nefariousness and horror; what the fuck had Raum done? Guilt sang in her eyes like a siren's lullaby, luring her to a certain end, and there was no escape from the regret rising higher. She had grown complacent, her heart torn between two loves - one for a court, one for a man.
“Did you know, Rhoswen?”
Storm-battered eyes flickered to Seraphina, watching her with a heavy gaze. The queen spoke of lies and Rhos still does not look away, her teeth biting down upon a weary tongue. Just what had happened here? Her heart beat to a drum that felt for Sera, she had not asked for this, she could never have expected such betrayal. "Yes." An ashen murmur rings at last to break her quiet, and oh - it is the tolling of a bell before the hangman reaches for the rope. Her final confession. There was nothing she could say to right these wrongs, nothing to undo the crimes that had been committed. For once, Rhoswen is hesitant.
"Following the abduction of Rostislav, I was told he was here to gather information; I did not think he would actively bring violence upon the city." Foolish words. It mattered not what she had thought. "I know you may not believe me, but I am sorry, Seraphina. Many times I considered knocking at Maxence's door, and then at yours, but this was a man who held my heart, and I hated him for it."
Rhoswen knew it then: her weakness was garish and brazen, her weakness walked at her side with an unsteady gait, her weakness waited in the shadows of Denocte. Oh, Raum, what have you done.
Then, something changed. The air moved, parted, flinched. From who? Rhos stiffened into an asphyxiated suspension of fear and vigilance, her arched swanlike neck snaking lower to the ground as she shifted her body in front of the girl. Hormones raged like gunpowder in the oil slick of her blood and she knew, with a blinding and impulsive certainty, that nobody would touch the shaking infant at her flank. Not over her fucking dead body. And so they waited in the gloom with only the emerging incandescence of Calligo's moonlight to illuminate the path - for night fell quickly in the desert, blink too long and there it would be: predatory and wolfish.
A shift in the shadows, a glint of silver, a long rising stride to break the sun. Seraphina.
Rhoswen breathed, her lungs grasping for the air it had been denied for minutes too long and the steel-wrought muscles wound throughout her entire frame eased, just an inch. It was a fleeting relief. For upon her unhurried appearance Solterra's sovereign carried too the apparent weight of a thousand narratives; it was etched on her skin, in her eyes, through the brilliant white of her hair and in a moment, the blood was drained from Rhoswen's skull. Dread filled her bones and oozed like cooling magma from her pores; she did not need the power of Sight to know an atrocity had besieged Solterra. Her child recoiled from the morbid statue before them, nickering faintly in fear, but Rhoswen did not flinch - she could not; she had no right. Her name sounded like a threat on the lips of their leader - a leader she barely knew in truth, but for the counsels and the meetings, and yet still, a leader that had morphed into something unrecognisable since the last time Rhos had seen her from afar. Rhoswen's mouth is dry as she listens to the words falling like bullets from Seraphina's mouth - the capitol was unsafe. An unusually compliant nod of her fine-china head, before turning to bump her silent foal in the direction of the queen. To say she trusted implicitly Sera would be an untruth, but the alternative of lingering out here alone was nothing short of a death sentence now.
Silently, they walked. The red woman's mind is a labyrinth of possibilities, of nefariousness and horror; what the fuck had Raum done? Guilt sang in her eyes like a siren's lullaby, luring her to a certain end, and there was no escape from the regret rising higher. She had grown complacent, her heart torn between two loves - one for a court, one for a man.
“Did you know, Rhoswen?”
Storm-battered eyes flickered to Seraphina, watching her with a heavy gaze. The queen spoke of lies and Rhos still does not look away, her teeth biting down upon a weary tongue. Just what had happened here? Her heart beat to a drum that felt for Sera, she had not asked for this, she could never have expected such betrayal. "Yes." An ashen murmur rings at last to break her quiet, and oh - it is the tolling of a bell before the hangman reaches for the rope. Her final confession. There was nothing she could say to right these wrongs, nothing to undo the crimes that had been committed. For once, Rhoswen is hesitant.
"Following the abduction of Rostislav, I was told he was here to gather information; I did not think he would actively bring violence upon the city." Foolish words. It mattered not what she had thought. "I know you may not believe me, but I am sorry, Seraphina. Many times I considered knocking at Maxence's door, and then at yours, but this was a man who held my heart, and I hated him for it."
Rhoswen knew it then: her weakness was garish and brazen, her weakness walked at her side with an unsteady gait, her weakness waited in the shadows of Denocte. Oh, Raum, what have you done.
@Seraphina rhos is so flustered and tired and just GAH! it's a bit all over the place but i'm excited too ehe
