Seraphina
the artificer
A huff of a laugh leaves Sera at Amalia’s admission of her own LongNight traditions sounding wonderful and strange. “Oh, I’m sure.” She comments with a softer smile gracing her face. Part of her wonders what she might be like had she grown up in the treachery of the Grounds. That part of her often shuts up long enough to realize how lucky she is to grow up here, to become the Artificer for the Order, and to have a strong purpose within it – even if it didn’t equate to the demi-god before her.
Sera finds a space to wait for Amalia to try on the blouse, and she’s idly inspecting a recent scrape on her hand with some distaste when the Archangel’s words hit and her gaze lifts to the curtain that separates them. “If they’re Ascended then they likely made their choice, yes?” She asks, internally baffled at how they could still be considered friends. But Sera was old fashioned, so much so, that the thought of Abandoned and Ascended made her skin crawl.
She doesn’t voice these thoughts, though, thinking it for the best.
So instead, when the curtain draws, Sera’s face is soft and bright as she regards Amalia even if the other woman won’t look at her. “Ooooooh!” She chimes, standing and immediately bounding over toward the woman, checking the fit with a wide grin, seeing what spots gave way for movement and which kept restrictive. “This is beautiful Amalia.” She says wistfully, dragging over one of the full body mirrors and setting it up in front of her, as she steps behind her to peer around the woman’s shoulder (two inches of height makes all the difference, really), to peer at her. “Most importantly, though, what do you think?”
Sera finds a space to wait for Amalia to try on the blouse, and she’s idly inspecting a recent scrape on her hand with some distaste when the Archangel’s words hit and her gaze lifts to the curtain that separates them. “If they’re Ascended then they likely made their choice, yes?” She asks, internally baffled at how they could still be considered friends. But Sera was old fashioned, so much so, that the thought of Abandoned and Ascended made her skin crawl.
She doesn’t voice these thoughts, though, thinking it for the best.
So instead, when the curtain draws, Sera’s face is soft and bright as she regards Amalia even if the other woman won’t look at her. “Ooooooh!” She chimes, standing and immediately bounding over toward the woman, checking the fit with a wide grin, seeing what spots gave way for movement and which kept restrictive. “This is beautiful Amalia.” She says wistfully, dragging over one of the full body mirrors and setting it up in front of her, as she steps behind her to peer around the woman’s shoulder (two inches of height makes all the difference, really), to peer at her. “Most importantly, though, what do you think?”
stitch it together kid, i know you know better
