#Solange Iseterre

[thefreelanceangel]

Awaiting the passing of night, awaiting the warmth of day... Oh, how endless the dark hours seem when the lamp light through the windows is the only warmth to be found.

And that warmth an illusion, the light giving only the pretense of the sun's living glow. That warmth, frail, chasing away no shadows, only deepening those that lurk in the corners.

[aces-and-kings]

why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? (Grey)

Snow had begun to fall by the time Solange came into view. There was barely enough time to bend over before she'd wrapped her arms around Grey's shoulders and pulled him down for the tightest of hugs. They lingered a moment, as good friends often do, when she quietly asked, "Why is it whenever we see each other, you're covered in blood?" Her eyes fixed on a stain upon his coat, recalling the bit on his pants and cheek that she'd seen in her approach as well. There was a vacant distance in his expression, knowing that even though she teased him with a light tone, it was laced with genuine worry. Grey found himself wondering what she'd been through since last they'd met. She seemed greatly changed, though in a way he couldn't quite place. Perhaps they all were changed by recent events. Wine by a more private brazier was in order. They could catch up then, and though he didn't believe in deity, Halone help anyone who'd wronged her. @thefreelanceangel thank you again for the prompt and for providing tumblr with a much needed dose of more elezen women.

[thefreelanceangel]

Oh, Solange...

Coming from WoW, I am constantly blown away by SE's commitment to listening and implementing feedback. The benchmark looks a thousand percent better with a only a few examples. God, I love this team.

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

The inside of her lower lip took the brunt of her mounting anxiety. She didn't hesitate to swallow. She'd grown used to the taste of blood years before.

[thefreelanceangel]

She would not dwell on the past, but the memory of a Coerthas warm, green, and blooming with life and how it'd welcomed a young girl's delighted running through soft grass could easily move her to tears.

[thefreelanceangel]

Perhaps others drew solace from it, but Solange found no comfort in the blank stone gaze of an uncaring monument.

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

Between the ocean and the boundless sky above, she felt small, insignificant, and strangely eternal. Stargazing gave more comfort than prayer ever had.

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

In her dreams, she served someone worthy of an oath. Her sword only struck in defense of the deserving. Her shield protected those who truly needed someone to stand for them.

In her dreams, which repeated night after night, feeling more akin to reality than anything she walked through in the daylight hours, she left her past behind and found joy in the present.

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

[thefreelanceangel]

Even still, years now since the Warrior of Darkness banished Light Everlasting, those who stood guard faced the night like a thing wholly unexplored.

[thefreelanceangel]

At times, when the aether rushed through her as she lifted her shield, she felt as if she would glow.

[thefreelanceangel]

It looked as it always did.

She thought it should've looked different. After all, she stood half a world away, saw different stars, was a different person entirely.

And yet...

The moon remained as it always did.

Solange ran a finger across the tiny emeralds laying cold against her skin, watching clouds drift idly across the full face of the moon. The same color, the same shape, the same phases against different stars and perhaps the familiarity comforted some.

She found it disquieting.

The moon should've altered with the visible stars, should've turned a different face to Kugane. Something of it should've changed visibly after the world came so close to destruction. After all, the world itself had changed, she had changed.

What set the moon so apart that it could look down on a world that altered day by day and remain wholly impassive?

Solange lowered her head, arms tightening against her stomach. Honesty came as easily to her as breathing; she couldn't lie even to herself. What disquieted her about it didn't stem from the moon itself but from within.

She envied it for being so unchanged, for observing world-changing events and going unchanged itself. It stood apart, cold and unyielding, impassive and distant. Much as she wished to be, wished she could be. Then perhaps this spate of being a high-ranking samurai's novelty wouldn't sting as it did.

Oh, she'd not sold the rights to her bed or body. The arrangement involved only her presence at societal functions he attended, her presence as an imported curiosity from the snowy heights of Ishgard to give his guests something new to gossip about. Solange knew for a fact that at least five of her patron's associates believed her to be his whore.

It shouldn't have bothered her. The moon, after all, did not trouble itself with the opinions of disgruntled mortals so far below it.

It bothered her greatly.

She kept her face neutral, always. She'd learned as much from the woman who'd raised her, whom she still thought of in moments of weakness or nostalgia as my lady mother. 'A lady doesn't allow her feelings to show on her face in public' remained one of the most ingrained lessons of her life.

That much then she could claim. While her soul wilted and her heart ached, her face reflected the moon.