[P] closed doors and open windows [marisol]

[Marisol]

"Good sense comes the hard way.
And the grace of the gods
(I'm pretty sure)
is a grace that comes by violence."

At times, Marisol almost resents how quickly the faces of her court seem to change—everywhere she looks, it seems there is some new vendor setting up shop, a cadet waiting to be booked, a courtier looking for work. At times, it’s overwhelming to know that the flow of citizens in and out will never really slow. How is she supposed to keep track of all of their needs, their wants and complaints? How can anyone manage a kingdom that refuses to sit still?

But then there are moments like these in which the Commander feels more grateful for this steady stream of new arrivals. Elena cannot compare her to Asterion, nor does she know of any of the scandals she has spent so long working to override with frantic success. She knows nothing—yet—of Marisol’s flaws, and so for once in her life the Sovereign can perhaps begin to relax, knowing that her past will not come to haunt her as long as it is only she and Elena here.

I look forward to serving you, says the golden girl, and Marisol’s lips curl in an unusually open smile. For a moment she debates asking where the stranger will be staying, or perhaps inviting her to sleep, for tonight, in the citadel; but it’s late, and Elena is already halfway out the door by the time Mari gathers her thoughts enough to know what she would even ask.

Instead she dips her head as Elena leaves, stands for just a moment in the warm silence of the foyer, then finally turns to climb upstairs.

“Speaking.”

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