#stellatanox

[hollowgale]

@stellatanox​ liked for a starter.

     Standing on the precipice of the world’s end, the champion stands on the walls of the keep-- Once more and only once looking out over the city as it bustles with life and prepares for one final, great voyage. Longships packed, the rustling of chain and brigandine and the marching of soldiers’ boots fill the air. Slowly but surely it muffles as snow begins to fall-- It’s a sort of magic, the way the white of winter brings the world down to a hush. 

     She glances over her shoulder and sets eyes on the smaller woman with a sigh that curls up into the air in mist. Drumming gauntleted fingers upon the edge of the wall, “This could be our last snow in this world... Strange to think of it, isn’t it? All of us.”

[mindarchmage-blog]

@stellatanox // continued from here

Ronja begins to help clear the steps of Stellata’s work, being mindful as to not damage anything that she touches. “It can take a lifetime, my dear. But the earlier you tell yourself it, the easier it is,” she says, taking a seat on the steps. Her head tilts as Stellata offers the question, and a hum escapes into the cold air in a cloud of mist. She adjusts her dress to keep the cold out even against the freezing stone she happens to be sitting upon.

“Because you seem the sort to put too much stock into what others thing of you. Perhaps I am wrong in my assumptions, but the point still stands,” she says, folding her arms across her lap. She offers the young woman a kind, gentle smile, one she so often gives to her children, be they small, or grown. “’Tis a feel I know all too well, but I have since been able to move beyond it. And you are young... I consider it my job as your elder to impart some wisdom on you.” She claps a gentle hand on Stellata’s shoulder with something of a grin.

[hollowgale]

"What makes a monster and what makes a man?"

ACCEPTING.

     “Look at you. Look at us. Preparing for a day drenched in blood, and you- What- Want to discuss morality?” If it is her first instinct to be unpleasant, it is not Stellata’s fault. The queen is terse, on edge, and ready to snap at any given moment. 

     It would seem the young Drengr is simply on the recieving end of an abysmal mood, but shortly thereafter, Emmeline plunges her blade into the ground at her feet, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose before turning to Stellata and rubbing her face. “…What makes a monster is the inability to think or feel. Monsters can only ever be animals… And men, abhorrent, but never monsters. Monstrous… But never monsters. In the end, even Kaladin was but a man. These voidlings we fight now, they are monsters. That is the difference. And I apologize for my terseness. I am… Stressed.”