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Private  - wake me up to greet the dawn

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Played by Offline Sam [PM] Posts: 126 — Threads: 30
Signos: 1,315
Dusk Court Medic
Female [She/Her/Hers] // Immortal [Year 498 Summer] // 15.2 hh // Hth: 26 — Atk: 14 — Exp: 28 // Active Magic: Empathy // Bonded: N/A
#1


take this burden away from me
and bury it before it buries me


Regret is a familiar sensation. It wraps itself around her bones, presses into her veins, branches out and through her. She can feel the way it crawls up her throat, the pressure. She is used to it. She is used to the bitter taste of it on her tongue. The feeling is no stranger; it makes itself at home in her chest, curling into the curves of it without hesitation. It is almost comforting to sit with the weight of it, a stone in her belly as the autumn breeze begins to lace across her back. It is almost comforting to recognize the old friend come home to roost.

She wishes nothing more that he would come and find her, soothe her. She had wanted him, desired him, and that need was burning her alive. How does one be soothed by the one causing them so much pain? She winces at the heaviness in her heart. There is, admittedly, still a part of her mind that is clinging onto bis of hope, not matter how many times she has tried to eradicate it. Yes, there’s the smallest fragment of hope that still flutters pathetically in her golden chest.

Elena has thrown herself into her work. Busy hands, busy hands. She heals, collects, learn, provides therapies, treatments. And now it would seem her duties were going to extend beyond the walls of Terrastella. It is the only explanation for why she is being guided through the desert by a Soleterran soldier. It is no secret the deserts frighten Elena, maybe it is the vast emptiness of the land that reminds her of a time when she could not see and Elena drowned in the sameness of it.

She was once a diplomat. 

A politician of the mountains of Hyaline. She aided in negotiating treaties and alliances, though she never enacted war. Elena spent as much time outside of Hyaline, traveling to foreign lands as she did within it, greeting those who stepped across the borders with intentions other than making Hyaline their home. As a healer, Elena had learned to be diligent, kind, not be to judgmental, and compassionate. Politics—they taught her different lessons entirely. She learned to hold her tongue in the face of wanting to speak her mind. Elena trained herself to be careful with her words, to make snap judgments on another and go with her instinct. Show little emotion, be too quick to be kind and you could be taken advantage of, be too cold, aloof, and you could wind up with too few alliances and your home ablaze with enemies you never knew you had. The golden girl has come to find that she quite enjoys Elena the medic more than any other role she has played. She wants to hang onto her, but as she continues moving across the sand, she feels that old (yet terrifyingly familiar) skin of Elena the diplomat reaching through, curbing her tongue and sharpening her eyes. 

The journey to Day Court had been long and to get to the capital would be longer still. The soldier that leads her is near silent, he said his hellos, offered no name, only that he was to be her guide and that the sovereign was expecting her and awaiting her arrival in the capital. Elena tried to start a conversation, tried to joke, teasing that all Solterrans must be expert sandcastle makers, but his responses swayed to be a mixture of half hearted grunts and disgruntled one word answers. 

Despite her companion’s lack of enthusiasm, Elena finds ways to entertain herself, even if the activities she chooses is not altogether calming. She knows little of Solterra and even less of its leader. Its residents proved elusive, as least to the golden girl. She conjures up images of the land, buildings made of red stone, hidden amongst sand dunes. Its leader are and imposing, stern and direct. What would he think when he saw the little blonde girl, this so called talented healer, striding into Day Court. Elena’s stomach clenches with apprehension. She smells of wild cliffs and sea spray, she is not made for sand and scorch. What would he think of this stranger in his lands? 

“Welcome to Day Court,” says her companion with a slight bow of his head. Elena offers him a ghost of a smile on trembling lips. “The sovereign waits for you just up the way, in the great palace,” Elena tries to say thank you, but it falls silent, a short blink of blue eyes is all she can offer the soldier that had kept her safe as they transversed the sands. He disappears just as quickly as he had appeared to her and Elena loses sight of him in the crowds. Blue eyes point ahead as Elena steadies herself, grounding her body and trying to brighten a smile on her face, while a feeling of disquiet sits behind it. 

She enters the palace, the sun reaches through a great window and stretches against her golden skin and for an instant, Elena could be mistaken for a Solterran, but the moment quickly passes as the fragment smell of wildflowers clings to blonde locks. Another Soleterran is there to greet her, it seemed she was expected, and leads her to where she was expected to be. She finds him waiting for her, and he looks nothing like what she expected and it provides her a breath of relief. Never the less, she could tell he could be much more imposing should he choose to be, but perhaps it is in the familiarity of a golden coat that lets her make her way towards him, confidence held between her shoulders. “Orestes,” she says, offering him a bow of her head. ‘There is nothing lost by showing respect, but there is plenty to be gained,’ comes the wise words of her godfather, echoing in her head with something she imagines to be pride. “It is an honor to be in your court,” she acknowledges and she tastes sand on her tongue, but it is not bitter like she would expect. “I am Elena, of Terrastella.”

so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me




@Orestes




[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]

let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star

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