She returned home without fanfare, which was fine. That was how she liked things nowadays. Simple, quiet, relaxing, and without any fucking trouble. Maybe she was getting old. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe the two were one in the same.
The twins, Ard and Erd, had begged her to sequester them away for a little while. They needed time to themselves apparently, and in need of a bit of a getaway herself, the Sun Daughter had escorted them to their destination of choice. It took some time but eventually they arrived, and Israfel took a few selfish days to relax and rest up before making the trek home. They could find their own way back.
She returned with the ending of the equinox, which… In a way, it seemed strangely ironic. Why not return when the celebration of equilibrium was upon them? To understand and know balance, and fairness, and justice?
… Fuck, Israfel was too damn tired to partake in philosophical debate right now. Her shoulders ached, and her wings would definitely be sore for a couple of days. Tucking the feathered limbs close to her sides, both to relax them and help ward off the chill, she pressed on through the quiet, empty streets. It was hours past dusk and most of Terrastella were surely tucked away in their warm beds, but despite her fatigue and desire for a stiff drink and a warm bed, Israfel found herself drawn to the court square. Overhead the skies were clear, the stars twinkling and glittering like gemstones amidst a dark sea. It almost felt as though she could reach out and pluck one from the very canopy, that’s how close they appeared.
The Regent stepped into the city square with a leisurely stride, vermilion eyes searching the area. A few late-night citizens passed, nodding to her before disappearing to presumably return to their homes, but her eyes were locked upon the gleaming statue centered in the square proper.
“... Well, that’s fucking new.”
Brows furrowed, the Sun Daughter pressed closer, gilded hooves scraping upon the cobblestone with every step. She did not have to fully examine the elegantly crafted visage to know who it was of, for the colors gave it away. The mixed opals of red, purple, and pink created a likeness of Vespera of which she had seen only once before, in a time of rain and flooding, but not even her previous anger to the Goddess could dampen the awe of beauty and splendor before her now.
Frowning a little in thought, Israfel glanced sidelong, catching the stares of two soldiers in waiting nearby. They were playing sentry, she could tell, and the Regent gave each of them a single nod in understanding before looking back to the statue.
She was not one to pray. Not anymore. Those days had come and gone and honestly, Israfel had begun to believe that ‘prayer’ did very little. Oh, but once upon a time she had prayed constantly, young and foolish and unchristened to the harsh realities of life. Why wouldn’t she pray? The product of a God herself, it would be foolish to not believe, to not have faith… But gods could be cruel. They would take and take and take and return very little to their loyal disciples, and for what?
Perhaps this mortal life had steeled her more than she thought. Letting out a long, drawn out breath, she lowered her head. At the feet of the statue were trinkets of various importance; some precious stones, a few haphazardly tossed signos, some necklaces, crude creations, even sketched pictures… Payments of fealty? Signs of devotion? Gifts made in fear of retribution?
Was there even a difference?
Another exhale, another plume of mist rising into the sky only to disappear. “... You and I haven’t always gotten along,” Israfel began, not bothering to hide her tones or her choice of words. If Vespera truly was ‘all seeing, all knowing’ like the Gods claimed, she would already be familiar with the Sun Daughter’s foul tongue. “I don’t agree with the things you allowed to happen. I don’t think I ever will.” She paused, chewing her tongue for a second, mulling her words. “... But I guess that was a different time. We can’t move forward when only staring at the past, or whatever the fuck that saying is.”
Again, silence. A faint breeze picked up, toying with the mare’s tresses. It was far too cold and the full grasp of winter would be upon them soon. She briefly thought of the twins, warm in their tropical getaway, and envied them just a little.
“I guess you aren’t too bad. I mean, I’m still here. Somehow. And I’m a pretty damn good judge of character.” A lie, but whatever. “But I’m also not here for you. I’m here for this land, first and foremost. It’s my home. Even that stinking, disgusting swamp that I always seem to end up patrolling.”
Rolling her shoulders, the joints still terribly sore and aching from her flight, Israfel sighed once more. “I guess what I’m trying to say is despite everything, we’re still here. And I guess that’s all that matters. Mari’s a good Queen, but I can’t say you deserve her.” Honestly, none of them did, so it wasn’t like she was being unkind.
The Sun Daughter’s glittering vermilion eyes focused down upon the offered gifts and tributes once more and she bit her lip, pondering. There was nothing fancy on her person that she could hand over. Was she supposed to leave something? Glancing over at one of the soldiers once more, she arched a questioning brow. He returned her look with a bit of confusion before shrugging a shoulder, and the Regent shook her head.
“... Okay. Sure. Um. Here.” Pulling something out of the borrowed traveling satchel, Israfel set the glass item down at the hooves of the opal statue. The nearly empty liquid sloshed around at the disturbance, it’s rich amber color darker in the sparse lighting. “I was going to finish it, but… I guess you can have it. I don’t know if it’s your thing, but maybe you need it more than I do.” There was a hesitant pause before Israfel stifled a yawn, barely resisting the urge to stretch as well. “I need sleep. Goodnight.”
And with that, the Sun Daughter turned on her haunches to amble towards the citadel with her room in mind. In her wake lay the various types of offerings, and now among them, a mostly-empty bottle of amber colored whiskey.
always one decision away from a totally different life
-- ♕ --
Florentine was not the only one to return.
There is no missing the gold and heat of Israfel and her phoenix companion. Florentine, had she been in Terrastella, would have felt the creeping cold of a darkness that is missing a sun-woman’s light.
As it is, Florentine had not been back quite long enough to note how there was an empty chill to the Dusk Court. Yet she does notice how the square glows with the gold of the sun. Stood beneath the statue of Vespera and before the slew of gifts that litter the marble steps at the goddess’ feet, is Israfel.
At first Florentine does not go to her, she simply watches with amethyst eyes, darkened with sadness and longing. Things have changed. She hears the clink of the mostly drunk bottle as the Regent places it upon the stone with the other offerings. Florentine hears too the slosh of amber liquid.
Israfel’s words are between her and the Dusk goddess. Flora knows better than to listen to such a private exchange. Yet when Israfel turns at last, the once-queen steps forward from where she was stood. Purple petals brush a welcome across the Regent’s golden hair. “Israfel.” The fae-girl breathes. “Long time no see.” Florentine’s smile is lovely yet small as it softens the corner of her lips, happiness settling there like honey. “Your choice of offerings has changed, I have heard Vespera is partial to local made whiskey.” Her quip is light, tumbling as bells from her lips. “I have missed you.” The girl breathes, I have missed so much here. The words sigh upon the wind, unspoken, yet full of deep longing. “What has changed?”
There is something that changes as she turns, her steps light, her posture surely wretched as fatigue courses through every muscle and vein. Perhaps it is simply a figment of Israfel’s lethargic imagination, a placebo effect fueled by days of nonstop travel to return home... A brush of a lilac petal caresses her cheek like an old friend and vermilion eyes close, slowly blinking once before they open and shift, focusing upon a golden form. Familiar, yet it has been so long that the Sun Daughter feels as though she is looking upon a stranger.
The statue of Vespera was beautiful in its own right, but that beauty pales beneath the splendor that is Florentine.
The citadel and her bed of silks forgotten, the Regent turns to fully face Terrastella’s former queen. “Florentine.” There is no longer a preamble, no longer a ‘my queen’, no longer a little head tilt in a lazy acknowledgement that once was so very frequent.
Thoughts run rampant in the Sun Daughter’s head as her eyes rooted upon the woman’s golden, matronly features, memories long buried, fleeting and delicate like a butterfly wing. To grasp them would surely be to ruin them, so Israfel let them pass without possessiveness, recalling them as they came and appreciating them as they left. She could build cathedrals with the words left unsaid between them and yet it would never be enough.
They had not always agreed, she and Florentine. They had not always seen eye to eye, but Israfel had always respected the Golden Lady of Terrastella. Florentine, with her lavender eyes far too wise for her years, hardened and shaped and molded by the greatest artists of all; Time and Experience. Perhaps those hands had touched them both.
A tired smile pulls at the corner of rose-kissed lips and she chuckles, the sound raspy and faint. Casting a glance to the bottle of amber whiskey, the Regent spoke. “Seems she and I have something in common, then. Who would have thought.”
Sucking in a deep breath of the frigid night air, Israfel allowed the prolonged silence to settle between them both for a few moments longer before daring a step closer. Not too close, of course, but the ivory dun rolled a shoulder and glanced sidelong at the guards still on duty. A reunion long overdue beneath the opal eyes of a stone goddess? Who would have known.
“I’ve missed you, too. It’s good to see you again Florentine.” The final inquiry, a loaded question. What, indeed, had changed? ’Everything’, she wanted to say, feeling the words bubble up and rise in the back of her throat, collecting on her tongue and dying to be spilt, ’I feel so lost, so trapped, so confused. Ulric is gone and I think my daughter hates me. I’ve failed as a mother and a soldier and I fear as though there is no redemption from this. I’m trying to move on, but my duty is unclear and I no longer understand what is expected of me. I feel like I’m drowning, Flora. Do you know what that’s like? Do you understand?’
Instead, she simply says; “Oh, you know; the usual.” Maybe Florentine would understand. Israfel wanted to believe that she would. Life had not exactly been kind to either of them, after all. Frowning a little and glancing away, blinking hard for a moment, she exhaled. “... Where have you been, Flora?”
There was no emotion for what Israfel was feeling, and so she simply resigned herself to feeling them all and knowing not what to call them.
always one decision away from a totally different life
-- ♕ --
There is a desperate sadness that clings to Israfel. It is there in the downward set of her eyes, gleaming like tears along her fire-gold eyelashes. Florentine studies her, breathes out a sigh, soft as doves between her lips.
That smile Israfel lets slip across her lips does not possess the joy she has seen before. It is a ghost of the happiness, vitality that Israfel once had. The once-queen’s eyes draw like fingertips along Israfel’s cheek and wonders what sadness has laid such darkness into the hollows of her cheeks.
The air smells sweet and potent with the liquor in her grasp. It should be humorous and it might have been, but for the sorrow. They stand, two girls gilded by light, darkened by loss. Israfel has lost Ulric, Florentine had lost her children. Israfel had her daughter, estranged, Lysander was so far from Florentine’s embrace. A world away…
“It is good to see you too Isra.” And Flora steps closer, into the place wher Israfel’s body heat warms the air between them. “The usual…” She whispers back, discontent with the other woman’s answer. They had known each other so long but the path of their relationship was rocky, each suffered bruises, were they close enough for Florentine to say what lay across her lips? Would Israfel confide?
The fae-woman does not know, but the words come anyway, “The usual should not cause you this much hurt. What is wrong?” Beneath the thick wash of her forelock, Florentine gazes at Israfel, her amethyst eyes wide, sorrowful. Where has she been? She sighs, and her eyes trickle away, peering out across the grounds as if she hoped to see Lysander and her children, her father, her brother, all of them returned. “I went to unite my family but my efforts only served to scatter us more.”
