Cross Effects > Areas

Little Russia

<< < (45/52) > >>

SINIB:
Ivanna

Ivanna gently tapped her fist against his. "To victory. To purity!"

SINIB:
Ivanna

Some Time Later...

Ivanna had retreated to her quarters to meditate. The events of the day had been exhausting, and she had much to consider. Had the scouring really been her only option? It had seemed as if it was the only logical course of affairs in the moment, but she wondered if she'd given herself time to consider the facts, and to search for alternatives, if there might have been a better way to solve this problem. Even so, she still felt that delaying would have caused more potential harm to this land she'd been charged with governing, but...

The small angel reached up and rubbed her head, finally allowing her wings to splay out in their full and unrestrained glory. Ivanna fell backwards onto her bed and rubbed her forehead. "I've always been such a brute." She muttered quietly to herself. She reached up to grab a large pillow, squeezing it against her body and pressing her face into it. This world made her uneasy and worried. She didn't have His voice in her head, telling her what to do, giving her purpose. She was free to do what she wanted, as she wanted, and to run her church in a borderline heretical manner. Seemingly no matter what she did, God did nothing. Sometimes she wondered if he even cared anymore. About this world, about her flock, and even about her.

Times like these were her darkest moments, and she knew laying around in emotional turmoil would do her little good. Ivanna slid out of bed, stowed her wings away, and meandered over to her bureau, staring at herself in the mirror above it. She slipped into a thin white summer dress without any of her regalia, preparing to head out for a walk around white square.

YOLF:
Lubei

He was having a hard time resting. Even sleeping seemed to evade him, as though a Snow Lion waited beneath the mattress to spring its fangs up and drag him under, every time he closed his eyes. His aura was restless, and whenever he looked at his sword from the corner of his eye, it rattled.

Lubei had never willingly stayed this long in a territory so seeped in divine power. Not as a guest. Maybe it was as simple as it not agreeing with his body. He'd given his trust, and the presence of this holiness caused no harm, but that didn't make it easy to stomach. In a very physical sense, it was uncomfortable. The unfamiliar, crisp quarters, decorated in a style as unfamiliar as it was self-important, weren't helping.

That was the train of thought that had dragged him away from bed into the streets protected the Seraph, bereft of his outer coat, resorting to slippers instead of his boots, rather than drag himself through the hours by fretting over the things he would do the next day, and all the ones he still lacked answers for. He had tried to read a book, and if those that already were in his temporary desk weren't all heavy religious poetry, he might have been brought it with him.

He didn't have an aim except shallow remembrance until he felt something very distinct next to him. The next thing he knew, his steps brought him face to face with his host.

"Seraph Ivanna," he rumbled in greeting.

SINIB:
Ivanna

She looked different from usual. Her hair hung loose, tumbling down her back with the faint sheen of divinity giving her body a gentle glow. The vaugely sexual outfit which drew so much attention was gone, replaced by a thin white nightgown, and without her heels, the angel barely stood higher than his waist. Even with the frigid winter air screaming around them, she didn't seem any more bothered by the cold than he did.

Ivanna slowly turned around, taking a small step back so she could properly look up at him. "Friend Lubei. Does your type of demons not sleep, or are you having troubled thoughts as well?" She asked him with a faint melancholic ring to her tone.

YOLF:
Lubei

He let his head tilt to the side. The angle didn't make her appearance any more or less unusual, but it felt strangely fragile to Lubei's eyes.

"We sleep and eat as mortals, but the mightiest more out of want than need," he replied. Pushing stagnant air out of his lungs with the heaving of his chest, he tapped at his temple with a weary swing of the wrist. "There's no end to what troubles me. And what of you?"

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page