☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
try try your whole life to be righteous and to be good
wind up on your own floor, choking on blood
His expression is thoughtful. “Perhaps so.” He doesn’t know what he asks, she tells herself – not really. Perhaps, she thinks, he looks for understanding, for some kind of resolution. She doesn’t think that he can find it in the truth of what happened, though she might well be wrong. Seraphina finds that she is often wrong, when she tries to anticipate the reactions of others. “A story for another place.” Another place? It was rare enough to encounter a stranger and meet them again, even rarer if they were from another realm. Another place. “Maybe so.” She isn’t opposed to the idea, though the first thought that comes to her mind is that she hopes – hopes – that this other place is not on the battlefield, caught amidst a war that she does not wish to fight. If he ever gets to ask his question, and she is ever willing to answer it, Seraphina can only hope that it is under more pleasant circumstances than those.
He’s shocked at her admission, and rightfully so; there are certainly more stray child soldiers in Novus than Solterran Queens, and a lake in the Abigo Caves seems a strange place to find royalty, anyways. She’s sure that his shock is also because of what she is. Seraphina is well aware that her background should have sealed her fate much younger. If she lived this long, this is never what she was meant to become, but here she stands, Queen of the Day Court in spite of it all. She sees him stiffen, tension lining his frame, and tenses in turn. When he attempts (and fails) to hide it, she relaxes slightly; it seems a good enough sign that he wishes her no ill will, or so she would like to believe.
He stares at her, unmoving and statuesque, for what feels like a long time. She’s been wondering what he’s thinking for their entire encounter, and this is no different. Seraphina wants to hope that she hasn’t just declared herself an enemy, in his eyes – she doesn’t want a fight. He exhales. Shifts.
“Renwick, Commander of the Brotherhood.” He bows.
She shouldn’t be unaccustomed to it, but she is – most of Solterra knows by now that she finds the formality of Solterran courts unsettling, every reminder of its decadent monarchy a slap to her face. On him, it is different. Perhaps it is because the gesture feels genuine; as she looks him over, he puts her in mind of what little she remembers of her mother, of stories of brave knights and grand adventures that quite pleased Amelie, who was utterly charming, if rather vapid. (Well, from what little she recalled, in pieces.) And perhaps he was a Knight. Seraphina doesn’t know as much of the realm of Calligo as she would like. For the realm’s outgoing nature, it kept its secrets. However, she has heard something of the Brotherhood. An ancient order of warriors, soldiers at times and entertainment at others…or something like that. For all their efforts to understand their enemy during the recent war, and all those before, Solterra’s violence and isolation had kept it from truly knowing any of the other realms. “A courtly one, aren’t you?” Spoken with a ghost of something akin to amusement. There is no mockery in her tone, however; it’s something more pleasant.
“So now that we know one another’s names, who we are, must we draw swords? Call each other by our titles?” He settles, head tilted to eye her. She can hear the soft amusement in his tone, and, though she knows that he’s testing the waters, she knows that he speaks at least in part in jest. His posture is nonthreatening, though . “I didn’t imagine I would meet the Queen of Solterra on this ranging. A few stray criminals and thieves, maybe. I would rather not fight her, if I can help it.”
Her reply comes with a rare hint of dry humor intertwined with her lilting Solterran accent. “I expected much the same – with all the vagabonds and thieves showing up on my borders as of late, I thought it only polite to intrude on them as well. You, however, Commander Renwick, are neither.” And so many other things. It’s strange, she thinks, to find herself standing before a man who just years ago might have killed her, a man who might still bring trouble to her Kingdom, to her people – to her. She has no desire to fight him, though. For all her Solterran blood, Seraphina rarely desires fighting, save for friendly spars enough to keep herself alert. She has more than enough violence on her hands unprompted. (This provokes the thought of the Davke, but it is fleeting; if nothing else, the shock of this conversation has been a distraction that is perhaps healthy, even if it goes against her own, obsessive nature.) However, she thinks, she also has no desire to fight him. In spite of her misgivings about Reichenbach and his Crows, Seraphina has no quarrel with the citizens of Night; it is nothing but the impulsive behavior of their sovereign and the knowledge that bad blood rarely dries quickly that keeps her on edge around citizens of the realm of moon and stars. However, in spite of the strange past that they share, – without ever having met – she doesn’t feel troubled by him. “And please. Seraphina is fine. Consider the Queen of Solterra…somewhere outside of these caves.” A relatively simple admission, tacked on at the end – but not an afterthought. Her title granted her authority, responsibility, an entire personality.
She wanted none of that here.
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tags | @Renwick
notes | is this a hint of...humor? wow, she's expressed it in two whole threads now. I'm proud.
try try your whole life to be righteous and to be good
wind up on your own floor, choking on blood
His expression is thoughtful. “Perhaps so.” He doesn’t know what he asks, she tells herself – not really. Perhaps, she thinks, he looks for understanding, for some kind of resolution. She doesn’t think that he can find it in the truth of what happened, though she might well be wrong. Seraphina finds that she is often wrong, when she tries to anticipate the reactions of others. “A story for another place.” Another place? It was rare enough to encounter a stranger and meet them again, even rarer if they were from another realm. Another place. “Maybe so.” She isn’t opposed to the idea, though the first thought that comes to her mind is that she hopes – hopes – that this other place is not on the battlefield, caught amidst a war that she does not wish to fight. If he ever gets to ask his question, and she is ever willing to answer it, Seraphina can only hope that it is under more pleasant circumstances than those.
He’s shocked at her admission, and rightfully so; there are certainly more stray child soldiers in Novus than Solterran Queens, and a lake in the Abigo Caves seems a strange place to find royalty, anyways. She’s sure that his shock is also because of what she is. Seraphina is well aware that her background should have sealed her fate much younger. If she lived this long, this is never what she was meant to become, but here she stands, Queen of the Day Court in spite of it all. She sees him stiffen, tension lining his frame, and tenses in turn. When he attempts (and fails) to hide it, she relaxes slightly; it seems a good enough sign that he wishes her no ill will, or so she would like to believe.
He stares at her, unmoving and statuesque, for what feels like a long time. She’s been wondering what he’s thinking for their entire encounter, and this is no different. Seraphina wants to hope that she hasn’t just declared herself an enemy, in his eyes – she doesn’t want a fight. He exhales. Shifts.
“Renwick, Commander of the Brotherhood.” He bows.
She shouldn’t be unaccustomed to it, but she is – most of Solterra knows by now that she finds the formality of Solterran courts unsettling, every reminder of its decadent monarchy a slap to her face. On him, it is different. Perhaps it is because the gesture feels genuine; as she looks him over, he puts her in mind of what little she remembers of her mother, of stories of brave knights and grand adventures that quite pleased Amelie, who was utterly charming, if rather vapid. (Well, from what little she recalled, in pieces.) And perhaps he was a Knight. Seraphina doesn’t know as much of the realm of Calligo as she would like. For the realm’s outgoing nature, it kept its secrets. However, she has heard something of the Brotherhood. An ancient order of warriors, soldiers at times and entertainment at others…or something like that. For all their efforts to understand their enemy during the recent war, and all those before, Solterra’s violence and isolation had kept it from truly knowing any of the other realms. “A courtly one, aren’t you?” Spoken with a ghost of something akin to amusement. There is no mockery in her tone, however; it’s something more pleasant.
“So now that we know one another’s names, who we are, must we draw swords? Call each other by our titles?” He settles, head tilted to eye her. She can hear the soft amusement in his tone, and, though she knows that he’s testing the waters, she knows that he speaks at least in part in jest. His posture is nonthreatening, though . “I didn’t imagine I would meet the Queen of Solterra on this ranging. A few stray criminals and thieves, maybe. I would rather not fight her, if I can help it.”
Her reply comes with a rare hint of dry humor intertwined with her lilting Solterran accent. “I expected much the same – with all the vagabonds and thieves showing up on my borders as of late, I thought it only polite to intrude on them as well. You, however, Commander Renwick, are neither.” And so many other things. It’s strange, she thinks, to find herself standing before a man who just years ago might have killed her, a man who might still bring trouble to her Kingdom, to her people – to her. She has no desire to fight him, though. For all her Solterran blood, Seraphina rarely desires fighting, save for friendly spars enough to keep herself alert. She has more than enough violence on her hands unprompted. (This provokes the thought of the Davke, but it is fleeting; if nothing else, the shock of this conversation has been a distraction that is perhaps healthy, even if it goes against her own, obsessive nature.) However, she thinks, she also has no desire to fight him. In spite of her misgivings about Reichenbach and his Crows, Seraphina has no quarrel with the citizens of Night; it is nothing but the impulsive behavior of their sovereign and the knowledge that bad blood rarely dries quickly that keeps her on edge around citizens of the realm of moon and stars. However, in spite of the strange past that they share, – without ever having met – she doesn’t feel troubled by him. “And please. Seraphina is fine. Consider the Queen of Solterra…somewhere outside of these caves.” A relatively simple admission, tacked on at the end – but not an afterthought. Her title granted her authority, responsibility, an entire personality.
She wanted none of that here.
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tags | @
notes | is this a hint of...humor? wow, she's expressed it in two whole threads now. I'm proud.
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
