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Old 01-05-2019, 10:36 PM
maxi maxi is offline
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Join Date: May 2010
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Default Saelia

The grand hall was alive with chaos and confusion as Saelia marched through the room, her heels clacking against the white marble floor. Her posture indicated queenliness, yet her features were limned with a darkness that nobody save her could comprehend. Ultimately, she was in a bout of annoyance that her father possessed the audacity to rule her around and boss her to the ends of the earth. She was the holder of her own fate, not her father. Often, the Lord of the North couldn't keep a handle of himself; truly, his resilience was as thin as a threadbare blanket.

The court's silence reigned almost the instant she came sweeping through those mammoth doors open to the naked eye. The chatter and prattle of conversation ceased as she made deadly eye contact, like venomous snakes or sharpening daggers, with her father before easing over to his throne.

The throne, fashioned like iron ivies and forged from the sharpest of swords and minds, was enough to hold her father's not-so-supple figure, but one lined with cunning and deadly mannerisms. Although the throne was something of a myth, it was naught but brutal truth to Saelia: each day she found him sitting there, watching over Golgaroch and implementing new laws into society that wasn't deemed fit for the nation. Each day she would find him stuffing food into his mouth as if it was the maw of some untamed beast. The Lord of the North was no fit king for the empire, and Saelia had enough reason to believe why.

"Father," she announced, craning her neck to glare right at him. However, as a foolish man would believe, her father did not wish to even birth the concept that Saelia would be mad at him for any reason. His eyes were lined with silver and compromise, a deadly edge brimming. "You requested my presence?"

"Ah yes. Saelia," he began, a snicker burbling from his lips like spilled poison, "I did indeed. The court has been all talk and no fun so far, I regret to inform you. I haven't been able to keep up with the daily gossip, but this one bout of information has led me to believe that the Struggle may be more than just a competition to ensure that you are next in line for the throne of Golgaroch."

"What is it, Father?" she queried, boredom seeping into her bones like rich liquid. Surely he didn't expect her to stand here for such a long duration of time, waiting for him to give out the information he'd deemed so interesting.

Her father's eyebrows knitted. "It has come to my attention that the Struggle will, indeed, be a fight to the death between three competitors. Yes, you will fight using your designated affinities. However, I have found out from one of my men lurking around in the East that their competitor, a royal lad, has some... companionship with transportation. He is able to travel between small distances, but it costs him some."

Teleportation? Saelia's own brows knitted at that. However much she despised her father in that moment for reasons that sometimes even she could not understand, this could be very useful in determining her fate at the Collegium. Perhaps she could win this contest of sorts by strengthening her emotional manipulation, as well as her use of weaponry--swords and its ilk--before fighting to the death.

“Teleportation,” she finally muttered. “I guess that will definitely be helpful, making sure I can win. But how can we know the other competitor’s own affinity? Do we know who they are as a person? Do we know who they can become once they are trained to their fullest extent? We have to know these things before I go to the Collegium and potentially die, Father. I can’t go out there knowing nothing about their political climate, state, neighbouring nations or allies. I have to trust my education and find some time to study these things. I have to. I know I do.”

Her outburst could’ve cost her a slap on the cheek, a blow to the stomach—but she knew that he couldn’t do that, not in front of the court he led his heart to believe was detrimental to this kingdom. This nation.

“You’re right,” her father, the Lord of the damned North, grunted. “As much as I hate to admit it, you have to know these things. You have to know who their people are and if you do, you can then strive for greatness. I do believe in you, Saelia. You know that, yes?”

Did she? All her life, her bones had been coated with the suspicion from her father. It had been with this supple body that she’d found a love for weaponry and fighting. The Lord of the North—who knew he could be such an authoritative figure, and yet be such a parent to her even still?

“I’ll need to,” she sighed. “I have to, if only to win this for my throne in the future.”

(Norah, you can add Bernard now if you want! Saelia's just gonna go to the library to study the East and South kingdoms.)
What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
Raindrops on roses and
Girls in white dresses and
Sleeping with roaches and
Taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and
Before all the stains
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