ᴜɴʀᴀᴠᴇʟ
01-13-2015, 08:03 PM
Audit flicks at the sound of an approach, head tilting slightly to the side to but spare a peripheral glance at the familiar woman that nears. Pupils turn back out to the waters, soft smile touching her lips at the word that falls from the lady's lips. That compliment sends a small sense of pride into her gut. They are separate entities, the mangroves and she, but if there's one land the Sol has ever been in touch with, this is it. It seems to bend to her whim at times. The phoenix recalls the time of the hurricane--when she'd come out here, so angry at the world, trembling with the trees s they pulled and pushed around her. And it'd stopped. She stepped up to the frothing, thundering waters and the wind quieted, the rain soothed--the eye blessed the Mangroves. There had even been some sunlight, shining through the dim. Celestial orbs trail to Epiphron, examining her for a moment. Lips purse as she ruminates over the weight of her decision, ponders over how to break it to her. Jupiter considers small talk--asking her how she's settling in and everything, but the scent of the mangrove's salts touch her pelt well enough to answer the question for her. For a long minute she falls silent, gazing out at the waters, before she speaks. "My son has disappeared," she says softly. Tone isn't particularly devastated--it's but a small bit crestfallen, the rest tinged with neutrality akin to that of a non-biased entity making a statement of truth. "Ludicael is left without an heir." A pause, pregnant with purpose, as she spares the woman with a glance. "That is, unless, you accept my offer when I ask that you be Ludicael's heiress." Sudden. It's all sudden and she's highly, highly aware of that. Just how nobody probably expects to be hit in the head by raindrops when the sky has not a cloud, not many expect to be asked such a thing out of nowhere. But there's nobody else. Not a single other person she trusts. Perhaps it is blind--naive, even, to trust the woman so easily, the one she knows so little about. But the way they fit together naturally, oddly perfect pieces carved by the past and molded together by unending nostalgia. "I'm getting older," she admits in a low rumble, eyes averting as she pores over this confession. It's no secret for those who have known her for a long time. She is still spry, healthy, with only the slightest fringe of gray hairs kissing the shallow-furred planes around her nose and eyes, almost an illusion. "Those that I trust have mostly left these god-forsaken lands. But I was born here. And I will die here." That much is final. She will not rot away in some foreign land, away from the very earth that gave life to her. "When? I don't know. Right now, it's only a bit of an ache in my bones when I wake up. It could be a year, it could be two. It could be tomorrow if I sleepwalk into the ocean for all I know. But I won't leave these lands to the wretches. To those who don't know how it used to be." Lip curls slightly. It would give them too much satisfaction. To see her leave. That fueled her fire, chained her here. She could easily rule the world elsewhere--with Isardis, maybe, if she found him--but instead she rots here, bound by a mix between inheritance and duty and infinite stubbornness. They would love to see her just leave them all be, release their family. But they wouldn't get it that easy. They'd have to kill her before she leaves. They could take what they wanted; any part of her that they wanted, they could seize from her all they wished but she would fight until her dying breath against them. Until the last moment she sinks into permanent unconsciousness, she will haunt them as a plague, as a scourge on their very existence. But for now, she seeks to secure a legacy. Not her own. Not her family's. But Alacritia's. The legacy of her homelands and those that came, and those that conquered. Gaze turns, expectantly, to Epiphron. Quiet. |
prone to violent reaction. ic actions have ic consequences and she lives and breathes it.public enemy #1
crawl. crawl more. drag your hands and knees across the destruction left in my wake to the ends of the earth. there's a green light of a shining star in my sky and there will not be an obstacle i will not overcome until i cup that star in my palms. the void in my will has been filled with purpose. so crawl. crawl more, love.
because i like it when you're on your knees.