𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚂.

        ⊹ ,   an age of miracles all the fanatics would claim it to be so. the saint herself is a faithless woman and she knew wonders were only hair's breadth away from being nightmares.   had her country not already endured enough,    have they not earned their peace?   yet she cannot deny what she had seen nor what she had become.    a witch in name alone yet when enough enemies echo the sentiment the myth they construct becomes tangible.    a dragon crowned in silver thorns,    the circlet catches the dull sheen of a lifeless gray sky.    tentative yet there is little to fear in the wood when she is the one lurking and not the one being stalked through the dawning day.    between the two of them the atmosphere stills as if they ether itself is unsure who to bend the knee to.    a storm caster and wind weaver yet it wasn't quite certain who was which.    there is a stark nonchalance to his limbs,    the indolent curve of his body against the barren tree.    bemused by her appearance as it was not often a queen demanded an audience instead of in favor of being visited in her own city.    

the cold, a petrified cadaver, lifts into weightlessness when he rises to his feet. the hand he placed on the truck of the tree to lift himself off leaves a pattern of frost feathers against the bark. there's no rosewater to his complexion, a ghastly thing in its cognizance as he appraises her figure. despite his seeming sanctity, he's dressed in simple white robes, and they cross over his shoulders when he rolls them to slip in front of his frame. her question lingers in his mind, savored upon his tongue as the cavern of his mouth awakens in its consideration. ❛ i simply perform what is expected of me. ❜ he begins, because to some extent there is a lingering truth to which she speaks that is not all-encompassing of his machinations. mischievous, at times, yes — though that isn't why he lingers in the blanketing of ravka now, unrelenting in its bite. he hums, taking a few steps away towards his right; with his back to her, the line of his mouth pulls into a frown. his head cants to his right to scan the trunk, noting the frost slowly expanding across the base, clambering around it like vines. he closes his eyes, and breathes.