Post by freya morningstar on Jun 20, 2019 4:01:43 GMT
|[attr="class","freypost"]her mouth is dry. she stands atop the newly formed crow's nest at the top of the dragon's den. freya had ordered its construction quickly following the coronation of sootopolis' newest queen. local geologists helped them find the safest passage up, up the dragon's den, taking care not to hack away at the supports of the cave, lest her father's empire, and all the dragons inside, fall prey to a cave-in. |
there's still loose rubble at the top; it's the expanse of half a battlefield, large enough for a couple dragons to settle comfortably. though she stands alone.
she's spoken very little since mossdeep, has blatantly refused to speak on the matter. weakness wracks her body. she hasn't been able to choke down food in a couple of days now.
she raises a bottle of water to her lips.
moxie isn't nestled comfortingly against her collarbone either. the ekans, mostly recovered now, sleeps begrudgingly in her ball. she sets the bottle down at a stone side table beside her, sits wearily. the wicker is worn from the years; she'd hauled it up from the morningstar cottage across town with the help of fafnir.
it's close to the edge, facing the city. she looks down at the ruins of the sootopolis gym, at the rest of her people as they mill about the town. fingers splay against her cheek.
✦ ✦ ✦
'i hope you forgive me for not making proper introductions sooner, and under such a grievous situation, but i thank you for coming, champion stone. freya speaks highly of you. well, has spoken. we can't get her to talk and, well, with the way things stand in sootopolis....we're running out of options.' sophia morningstar's voice is gentle, warm. weathered lines soften her face, but her proud nose, the cold gray of her eyes, hard as flint, abate any notions that she's soft.
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