horology | the darkling

beautiful scandalous attention

looking at me - sabrina carpenter

i can make it nice and easy
i'ma take the lead
they ain't even looking at you, baby
they're looking at me

/

'she was either wildly naïve or dangerously intelligent' - unknown

-

seraphina

The evening sun was dipped in the black of the evening as crowds flocked into the majestic ballroom of the Little Palace, dressed in intricate dresses, long wool coats and fancy keftas. The return of the Darkling was a commemoration of fear more than a celebration; his return was a trepidation and a show of power on his behalf.

The grand hall where the fete would take place was easily the most complex and well designed room in the Little Palace. The ivory white corinthian columns lined the hall like watchful senators. The white was laced with gold paint that sparked in the light of the lamps and candles that adorned the room. Black banners embroidered with the sun in eclipse were erect in honour of his return. Soft classical music was playing in the background as waves of people filtered into the room. Each individual either a noble or a Grisha; the arrogance and pompous self-obsession filled the room with a foul stench.

As Seraphina carefully layered on her long white dress, she wondered what war he had won, what new territory he had conquered this time. She caught a glance at herself in the mirror, she looked tired. Genya had sadly said that she would be unable to help Seraphina tonight; the Queen and her royal ass needed extra attention tonight. Seraphina had laughed wildly and wished Genya the best in dealing with the absurd task.

Now, she regretted that Genya wasn't going to be able to help her with her look. Although Seraphina had never seen the Tailor's magic, she heard that it worked miracles on appearance. More than ever, she needed to look good, no, stunning. She needed to stand out even though she would be painting a target on her back. But she knew that the Darkling admired confidence and reckless displays of power.

This was the best way to get his attention.

Seraphina pick up her brush and sat down in front of her mirror. She took another long hard glance at the girl who looked back at her with sunken eyes. Her olive skin gleamed in the light of the orange lamps, casting long shadows across the room. She looked thinner, frailer than she did yesterday. So much can change she thought in a matter of seconds. It was only yesterday that she arrive, sure of herself and confident in her powers. Now, Seraphina wasn't even sure she knew who she was. Was she the time goddess's creation, the child born of war, the prophesied tyrant?

Serphina shook her head. No, she was none of those things; Seraphina was the daughter of Dominika and Vladimir Vessensky, the Time Turner. She couldn't let those words get to her, they hadn't gotten to her before and she wouldn't let them change her now.

Seraphina lifted the brush to her hair. She took a deep breath and began to do her make up. If there was some womanly thing that she could do, she could sure as hell dress up.

*

The Darkling waited for all the guests to enter the hall. It was tedious having to bear with the tepid bows and the hint of fear in their eyes. Having lived for millenniums, he would have thought he would grow use to their snide comments and their hushed whisperings but a stab of pain shot through his chest every time people turned away, too afraid to meet his eye. He wondered if the rumours were true, if he really was a monster. He touched his bare arm where a small scar was a reminder that he had failed the Grisha before, he couldn't let it happen again.