☼ fia the crownless ☼
throw the ashes to the wind
sun sinking like a stone
Midday heat streams down on Seraphina’s back as she patrols the high ridges of the Elatus Canyon. The gold of her scarf glitters in the sunlight, shielding her features from the overwhelming heat. Alshamtueur is an ever-present weight at her side, and she is grateful for the fabric that separates her skin from the steel; the sword and its sheath always radiate a gentle warmth, but it can quickly rise to a scalding heat during a Solterran afternoon. Sweat dribbles down her sides and beads on her brow, but it isn’t as unbearable as it had been before she’d obtained her hood. Now that she has the light set of armor, she can’t help but wonder how she ever tolerated the heat before.
It occurs to her that it has been a very long time since she has been on patrol. To think that this was how she used to spend the majority of her days – solitary and roaming, with nothing for company but the endless dunes and the creatures that lurked within them! She feels like a different creature entirely; her strides are longer and more fluid, her militant rigidity fading for something animalistic and prowling, and she carries herself with the easy, unfettered confidence of some apex predator, unintimidated by the dangers that used to keep her fleeting and cautious. That is not to say that she is not wary, not watchful, - an ambush is always a threat, even if she can reasonably ram her arrow into the skull of most anything that could prove itself a danger – but neither is she mechanical.
She still knows the curving, maze-like walls of the canyon by heart, and that is a bizarre comfort; she remembers thinking that the sands would never change, during her fight with Raum, and, although everything else around her seems to have collapsed in on itself, she holds to the knowledge that that much was true. (She wonders if she will see them red-stained again. She knows that she will see them red-stained again.) Her fledgling rebellion has instated itself in the maze of caves carved into the walls of the Elatus, under the safety and shade of overhangs and within the relative protection that the winding pathways provided; however, they are still small in number, and precarious. For the moment, they will need to be cautious, to bide their time…
She can hear Alshamtueur hissing at her side. She knows that it does not want to wait for its vengeance – to burn, to tear, to bleed, to destroy.
But she will wait.
(She will not do it quietly this time.)
She presses on, then – she needed to finish her survey of the canyons and return to the base camp. “Fia” had precious little time to spare.
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tags | @Evangelina
notes | I've forgotten how to write starters /sobs/ forgive me
throw the ashes to the wind
sun sinking like a stone
Midday heat streams down on Seraphina’s back as she patrols the high ridges of the Elatus Canyon. The gold of her scarf glitters in the sunlight, shielding her features from the overwhelming heat. Alshamtueur is an ever-present weight at her side, and she is grateful for the fabric that separates her skin from the steel; the sword and its sheath always radiate a gentle warmth, but it can quickly rise to a scalding heat during a Solterran afternoon. Sweat dribbles down her sides and beads on her brow, but it isn’t as unbearable as it had been before she’d obtained her hood. Now that she has the light set of armor, she can’t help but wonder how she ever tolerated the heat before.
It occurs to her that it has been a very long time since she has been on patrol. To think that this was how she used to spend the majority of her days – solitary and roaming, with nothing for company but the endless dunes and the creatures that lurked within them! She feels like a different creature entirely; her strides are longer and more fluid, her militant rigidity fading for something animalistic and prowling, and she carries herself with the easy, unfettered confidence of some apex predator, unintimidated by the dangers that used to keep her fleeting and cautious. That is not to say that she is not wary, not watchful, - an ambush is always a threat, even if she can reasonably ram her arrow into the skull of most anything that could prove itself a danger – but neither is she mechanical.
She still knows the curving, maze-like walls of the canyon by heart, and that is a bizarre comfort; she remembers thinking that the sands would never change, during her fight with Raum, and, although everything else around her seems to have collapsed in on itself, she holds to the knowledge that that much was true. (She wonders if she will see them red-stained again. She knows that she will see them red-stained again.) Her fledgling rebellion has instated itself in the maze of caves carved into the walls of the Elatus, under the safety and shade of overhangs and within the relative protection that the winding pathways provided; however, they are still small in number, and precarious. For the moment, they will need to be cautious, to bide their time…
She can hear Alshamtueur hissing at her side. She knows that it does not want to wait for its vengeance – to burn, to tear, to bleed, to destroy.
But she will wait.
(She will not do it quietly this time.)
She presses on, then – she needed to finish her survey of the canyons and return to the base camp. “Fia” had precious little time to spare.
----------------------------------------------------------
tags | @Evangelina
notes | I've forgotten how to write starters /sobs/ forgive me
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
