❝you are the very thing that drives my existence❞
- in which Visenya Naberrie defies the destiny written for her in the stars and turns her gaze toward the light amist her looming darkness
𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓸𝓬 𝔁 𝓟𝓪𝓾𝓵 𝓐𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼
𝓓𝓾𝓷𝓮
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𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘 ••• 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹
𝐓he softened breeze of the previous storm rippled against the skirt of Visenya's dress and breathed life to the dark fabric. Petrichor tangled with the oxygen she breathed as it swirled up her nostrils and filled her lungs. She swallowed thickly and a deep breath escaped past her slightly parted lips as the silver Imperial Spacecraft completed its landing sequence several feet ahead. The members of the Arteides guard lined the carpet that led to her and the other members of nobility and high rank. They stood a little taller as the ship locked in place with the tarmac in a roaring groan of old gears. A stormy gray polluted the blue of her irises, bleeding its way into the overall color of her eyes and diluting them significantly. Nerves fired throughout her body and gave root for anxiety to creep into her mind while she watched the ramp to the ship before her descend.
Her gaze shifted momentarily to Paul, watching as he set his jaw and his shoulders tensed. His eyes darted back and forth between the mass of people that began to emerge from the shadowed depths of the ship. Slowly, she inched her fingers out to brush against his own. The ghost of a touch drew his gaze to her and his cloudy eyes met her own in an unreadable expression. Her brain worked quickly to try and decipher what thoughts ran through his mind. She studied him intently for any short giveaway, yet she found nothing. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't want her to know. Her eyes softened as he stuck out his pinky finger and interlocked it with her own. She nodded once to him, the silent reassurance visually relaxing him as she lightly squeezed his finger.
She turned her gaze forward as the digintaries of the Imperium finished their descent down the ramp. Her finger slipped from Paul's and she resumed her poised position with her hands folded neatly at the front of her skirt. One final exhale of air passed through her lips before she forced them to close in a tight line. The tension throughout her body dissipated at her will and once more the mask of confidence overruled. She stood firmly in her designated place beside Paul, her chin high and face stoic. Not an ounce of her demeanor betrayed the hidden emotion within.
Her eyes roamed among the phalanx of digintaries as they approached. Her mind had easily peiced together which individual belonged to each elite group of the Imperium based upon their ceremonial dress. With each swift step down the carpet she could feel the impending dread deep within her build.
"Smile, Gurney," Duke Leto quietly advised the general of his army, having sensed the sourness radiating off the man.
Visenya didn't need to turn her gaze to know the scowl remained on Gurney's face despite the reminder. It was an expression that more often than not remained carved in the elder man's face. "I am smiling," Gurney whispered back, the statement nearly breaking through Visenya's stoic exterior as a smile threatened to tug at the corners of her lips.
