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6/9/2025, 10:03:43 PM
>>6255738
# # # # # #
You are roused by the changed wind.
Stirring, Rubida slumps next to you, tossing in her lips as her arms roams, finds Soralisa’s sleeping body and pulls it close.
You pass your finger on your lips.
That was—
Unexpected.
But you liked it.
It was more urgent than Willow’s, but it felt… different.
Perhaps if the Sun-Birther carry you, you would be able to compare again.
After a thorough spanking, as duty demands.
Feeling cranky, you stand up and walk to the parapet, checking on the ocean. The night has etched Her new day once again, and the boat is still sailing without wind or paddle, leaving behind a ripple through the waves. The ocean glistens pink and violet from the coming dawn, even if Her sun has yet to properly rise, but already the silver ring is tinged with a reddish hue.
A reminder, perhaps, of Ansàrra’s ultimate victory.
And the night has, indeed, passed.
Rosandra is still meditating in the same spot, her breathing regular.
She is not asleep — a hunch.
You reach her and crouch on one knee. Not to bow — you only bow to the Sun-Birther — but to be level with her eyes.
“The night has passed.”
“Has it?” She replies immediately. “The one that has settled inside me has hardly lifted. But this might not be your concern, Argia Candente. I know how much you hate me and how you would delight in my parting. It is to be expected, for such a young thing such as you. And yet so caught in a web of golden strands…” she opens her hand and her brown eyes, roaming over the surface of her cameo. Her fingers twitch and your heart jumps in your throat — she promised!
“I have but one word,” she reassures you. “I am merely troubled. Your worldly conundrum and involvement with the Amaranthines are just dust in the wind, or the glimpse of sunlight upon waters, forgotten ere it has begun. If I ultimately discover my most valuable trust and obeisance has been trifled with, Astoria di Ottava Ora will soon learn how many bones her body can be bereft of and still serve the Holy Land. I shall pick my teeth with her useless, fumbling fingers.” A hint of the same fury you felt the night she utterly shattered the Asterite travels from her lips into your stomach, searing-hot. “There is much struggle in your future, Argia Candente. I do not foretell. I merely say what my eyes see. And I also see that for how meagre your strength may be, you have found friends where you could have twisted them into servants.” She sighs, and pours your cameo into your open palm.
[cont.]
# # # # # #
You are roused by the changed wind.
Stirring, Rubida slumps next to you, tossing in her lips as her arms roams, finds Soralisa’s sleeping body and pulls it close.
You pass your finger on your lips.
That was—
Unexpected.
But you liked it.
It was more urgent than Willow’s, but it felt… different.
Perhaps if the Sun-Birther carry you, you would be able to compare again.
After a thorough spanking, as duty demands.
Feeling cranky, you stand up and walk to the parapet, checking on the ocean. The night has etched Her new day once again, and the boat is still sailing without wind or paddle, leaving behind a ripple through the waves. The ocean glistens pink and violet from the coming dawn, even if Her sun has yet to properly rise, but already the silver ring is tinged with a reddish hue.
A reminder, perhaps, of Ansàrra’s ultimate victory.
And the night has, indeed, passed.
Rosandra is still meditating in the same spot, her breathing regular.
She is not asleep — a hunch.
You reach her and crouch on one knee. Not to bow — you only bow to the Sun-Birther — but to be level with her eyes.
“The night has passed.”
“Has it?” She replies immediately. “The one that has settled inside me has hardly lifted. But this might not be your concern, Argia Candente. I know how much you hate me and how you would delight in my parting. It is to be expected, for such a young thing such as you. And yet so caught in a web of golden strands…” she opens her hand and her brown eyes, roaming over the surface of her cameo. Her fingers twitch and your heart jumps in your throat — she promised!
“I have but one word,” she reassures you. “I am merely troubled. Your worldly conundrum and involvement with the Amaranthines are just dust in the wind, or the glimpse of sunlight upon waters, forgotten ere it has begun. If I ultimately discover my most valuable trust and obeisance has been trifled with, Astoria di Ottava Ora will soon learn how many bones her body can be bereft of and still serve the Holy Land. I shall pick my teeth with her useless, fumbling fingers.” A hint of the same fury you felt the night she utterly shattered the Asterite travels from her lips into your stomach, searing-hot. “There is much struggle in your future, Argia Candente. I do not foretell. I merely say what my eyes see. And I also see that for how meagre your strength may be, you have found friends where you could have twisted them into servants.” She sighs, and pours your cameo into your open palm.
[cont.]
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