Israfel
A pale ear flicked in Florentine’s direction, vermilion eyes alight and focused on the gilded sovereign standing before her. Israfel did not rush it. She did not push or demand, allowing Forentine to take her time, to muster her thoughts and formulate them into words. Emotions were a fickle thing. She understood. One could not simply tame the heart, mind, and tongue into obedience, could not force them to work in tandem when so often they fought against each other. The body was far too rebellious, too mortal, and too fallible.
At last, she spoke, but it was only one sentence. “You are entitled to the safekeeping of your heart, just as I am entitled to mine.” Simple, blunt, and to the point. Israfel was no politician. She never had been. Many a things she had once embodied, but never a politician. Now, she was a warrior. No sharp tongue could serve her as well as the blade of her horn, or the blunt force of her cloven hooves. After that piece, she grew quiet once more, and listened as Florentine unraveled the mysterious tale as to what had happened beneath their Court’s very noses.
Troubled contrast twisted within her breast. Love affairs were pointless and scandalous, and even more so when they involve the two leaders of two separate Courts. The risk of a nasty fallout was too great. The very truth was presented before them now, with the failed romance between Florentine and Reichenbach. If Isorath had gone to Denocte to serve the Night King instead, if he had chosen them instead of Terrastella, Israfel could not help but wonder if there were more than what she was hearing. Did she believe Florentine? Yes, without a doubt… But every situation had a side, and while not a politician, Israfel did believe in fairness. Perhaps she should have sought out the wise old Sages in Delumine after all…
Silence held her tongue. Israfel did not speak. Vermilion eyes stared with a burning weight, yet her gaze was not calculating nor cruel. It simply was. Rose-petal lips pulled downwards in a thoughtful frown, mulling it all over. An affair had brewed between Isorath and Reichenbach, acted upon or not, and in turn Lysander, one of their own, had nearly been killed. Somewhere within all of that, the Night King had used a manipulative magic upon her Queen. Wasn’t that enough means for challenge? For war? Betraying the calm trust that the two nations had built?
Israfel was not so sure. How funny, considering that she was now Terrastella’s appointed Warden. How very ironic…
Challenging Denocte would now be a foolish mistake, and the Sun Daughter prayed to the Novus Gods that she did not believe in that Florentine would not be so swayed into pursuing such an action. Their numbers were greater, and now? Now, they had Aether within their midst. The Dragons of Helovia had been fierce little creatures, but they had been so very small. A creature of Aether’s size? Well… Israfel had died once already. She didn’t fancy doing so again.
“Thank you, Florentine. For your honesty. If it’s any consolation, I never thought you of lying. As I said, you’re allowed your privacy… But something of this regard should be known. If it affects our Queen, it affects us all.” Florentine was the head of Terrastella. Her actions would look upon their Court as a whole. Honesty and integrity had to be met in order for them to survive. “… But also know, that should the dogs of war call our name and our adversary is Denocte, not even I am foolish enough to challenge Isorath and Aether. More than I don’t desire to scrap with a dragon of that size, is it that they are my friends. I do not wish to fight them any more than I wish to disregard your orders.”
Was war brimming on the horizon? Israfel had no way of knowing. Not yet.
The Sun Daughter smiled, fierce orange eyes glittering in the sunlight that filtered through the window. She did not know if her words would matter much to Florentine. Israfel was fairly certain that she held Isorath in a far different light now than Florentine did. That was fine. They were all allowed their opinions.
“… Please try and relax, Florentine. It means little coming from me, I know, but I do worry about your health and welfare.”
At last, she spoke, but it was only one sentence. “You are entitled to the safekeeping of your heart, just as I am entitled to mine.” Simple, blunt, and to the point. Israfel was no politician. She never had been. Many a things she had once embodied, but never a politician. Now, she was a warrior. No sharp tongue could serve her as well as the blade of her horn, or the blunt force of her cloven hooves. After that piece, she grew quiet once more, and listened as Florentine unraveled the mysterious tale as to what had happened beneath their Court’s very noses.
Troubled contrast twisted within her breast. Love affairs were pointless and scandalous, and even more so when they involve the two leaders of two separate Courts. The risk of a nasty fallout was too great. The very truth was presented before them now, with the failed romance between Florentine and Reichenbach. If Isorath had gone to Denocte to serve the Night King instead, if he had chosen them instead of Terrastella, Israfel could not help but wonder if there were more than what she was hearing. Did she believe Florentine? Yes, without a doubt… But every situation had a side, and while not a politician, Israfel did believe in fairness. Perhaps she should have sought out the wise old Sages in Delumine after all…
Silence held her tongue. Israfel did not speak. Vermilion eyes stared with a burning weight, yet her gaze was not calculating nor cruel. It simply was. Rose-petal lips pulled downwards in a thoughtful frown, mulling it all over. An affair had brewed between Isorath and Reichenbach, acted upon or not, and in turn Lysander, one of their own, had nearly been killed. Somewhere within all of that, the Night King had used a manipulative magic upon her Queen. Wasn’t that enough means for challenge? For war? Betraying the calm trust that the two nations had built?
Israfel was not so sure. How funny, considering that she was now Terrastella’s appointed Warden. How very ironic…
Challenging Denocte would now be a foolish mistake, and the Sun Daughter prayed to the Novus Gods that she did not believe in that Florentine would not be so swayed into pursuing such an action. Their numbers were greater, and now? Now, they had Aether within their midst. The Dragons of Helovia had been fierce little creatures, but they had been so very small. A creature of Aether’s size? Well… Israfel had died once already. She didn’t fancy doing so again.
“Thank you, Florentine. For your honesty. If it’s any consolation, I never thought you of lying. As I said, you’re allowed your privacy… But something of this regard should be known. If it affects our Queen, it affects us all.” Florentine was the head of Terrastella. Her actions would look upon their Court as a whole. Honesty and integrity had to be met in order for them to survive. “… But also know, that should the dogs of war call our name and our adversary is Denocte, not even I am foolish enough to challenge Isorath and Aether. More than I don’t desire to scrap with a dragon of that size, is it that they are my friends. I do not wish to fight them any more than I wish to disregard your orders.”
Was war brimming on the horizon? Israfel had no way of knowing. Not yet.
The Sun Daughter smiled, fierce orange eyes glittering in the sunlight that filtered through the window. She did not know if her words would matter much to Florentine. Israfel was fairly certain that she held Isorath in a far different light now than Florentine did. That was fine. They were all allowed their opinions.
“… Please try and relax, Florentine. It means little coming from me, I know, but I do worry about your health and welfare.”
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