the shining [siegfried]

[toska]

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING

it is difficult to compare the egerian sea and salacia beach, sophia thinks. there is an elegant beauty here, one that she is happy to return to after the ardous hours in the labs. when she's not running around lake pax, that is. she takes a sip of berry juice from a glass and sits back in her seat. the sky is cloudy today, and she supposes that's fine. when she turns her back to the city, sophia can imagine that she is sitting in a neiro with a seaside.

NOTES siegfried

SWORD IN HAND SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED

[siegfried]

^{APOLLO GIROUX
tag ; toska
ooc ; this is late... but itd b even later in dog years.......}

An ordinary man could look out at the ocean for hours, and feel so small, so insignificant next to the endless expanse of blue. Apollo is no ordinary man, though. He tastes the saline air, he buries his toes in the hot sand, and he knows this is his domain, his kingdom, though there is little in the world that does not innately belong to him. He is no ordinary man. He is a prince, a god, and this is all his, sea and sand and sky. When he slaughtered the scourge and was deemed King of Kohaku, it would all be his.

The ocean is magnificent.

But even the Egerian Sea cannot eclipse her beauty. She is a siren washed ashore, elegant and ethereal. Only, Apollo is no sailor, and she does not need to sing to entice him. He only needs to look at her, dressed in warm sun and sea mist, to know that he wants her, that she too will one day have to be his. Maybe he will even let her be his Queen, if he does not find someone better. “ ‘Scuse me,” he starts, shoes soaked in sand as he walks over. “There’s plenty o’ fish in the sea, but ‘til I find one, it’ll just be me holdin’ my pole. Be my... fish....”

Grinning uncomfortably, he lets the joke sit for a moment, waiting for a smile, a laugh, anything. (He imagines she must have the sweetest little giggle, like bells, like angels.)

[toska]

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING

sophia sits a few weeks away, oblivious to one man's delusions of grandeur. instead, she observes the wingull that soar through the untainted - no, less tainted skies. but of course, she can't stare forever. suddenly, something else eclipses her view. something that does not cry out cutely like a wingull does. his hair clashes strikingly against her view of the sea, directly across the color wheel. once upon a (long) time, sophia would have giggled at him before walking away with her girlfriends. today, she sets her glass down and doesn't look up at all. "not interested", her tone as dry as she can make it.

NOTES siegfried

SWORD IN HAND SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED