Disclaimer: This series is an LGBT slow-burn fiction that contains heavy politics and sensitive themes like profane language, murder, war, cultism, fictional religions, non-consensual events, PTSD, racism, substance abuse, misogynistic undertones, a...
The Mountain Range of Mothercradle exhaled the cold winds from Sovenia up north, trying to trespass the body of a woman not belonging to the luxurious scenery- for instead- she presents an exotic beauty contesting that of the prestigious Akan Country.
She was welcomed in the Castellated Abbey, a floating palace divided by the leaders of Religion and Military both united under the Midnight Diadem, or as the Akan people call it, The Crown of Supremacy.
She strolled as a sight of the swamps, a fresh alien passing through the glass doors and archways as bugs were left from each bare step. The marble floors here shines a hot pink hue mostly found in Akan bedrocks yet cooled by the northern winds.
She gave every strict palace guard a relaxed smile yet the articles of her clothing reflect a culture of discomfort; a tight dress-armor made out of unspeakable carapaces, thorax of illuminous insects, and leathers from exotic beasts are intertwined together to embrace her lithe body. While from her bosom up to her chest, a Grandmother Centipede binds her gown which allows her to wander like an overflowing marsh. The Armor-gown seems alive, breathing with the wearer.
On top of her trimmed head rests a crown of jeweled mushrooms surrounded by leaves in quagmire fashion. Even with the peculiar lighting of the glass dome above, it is unmistakable that she wears the Swamp Crown.
"Appreciating our lush lands, Swamp Queen?" An aged man in ornamented robes spoke. His jeweled fingers holding a staff etched with the symbols of the god of Honest Work- Sa'andio. Even with the haze of flowers hanging from the columns and ceiling, the Queen could still smell the strong perfume emenating from him, like those used on embalmed corpses to hide the stench of rot.
"What can I say? I respect this place a lot, I'm still that same impoverished girl who dreamed of walking in prestigious palaces, after all." Her bronze hand caressed one of the hundreds of dead-eyed sculptures displayed in the hall, she could sense life in them, her bugs could.
"Impoverished?"
"Yes but I'm afraid my young kingdom can't afford luxuries as these, or even a palace itself. But know that I rule a savage country and luxurious materials are but an impracticality, any Schynthal would choose a fruit-bearing sapling over a jewel-bearing tree at any time of the cycle I assure you."
"Ah yes... I sense fresh confidence from a fresh Queen, you seem very certain and faithful of your swarm- or should I say... people? But does this indomitable faith goes the other way around?" The High Priest grinned, showing a row of goldplated teeth.
"Be a witness of the proof..." The Queen smiled back, her bronze eyes kindling from her high cheekbones as she starts to twirl several times to showcase her dress, doing so like how a small girl would while playing in a green field of spring time.
