Poet336
The world cries out its most harmonious tenors when the light fades to darkness. It is simply the nature of all things being to mourn the loss of something so pure and beloved.
Does the raven not hunger for the treasure?
Or man, yearn to be so great their name is forever embedded in stone?
Humans are greedy little things, however, and once they have a hold of that light, well, it won't leave that tight grip unless it's pried away.
Seraphina knows this.
Oh, truly, does she know it.
The world as she knows it is a greedy, vicious and serpentine thing - the people inside of it only follow what they're shown. A baby only acts out what they see in someone else, correct?
And in this world, the light is something to be cherished - revered, even - and those up top know it.
They hog the splendor for themselves in a brutal cycle of take with no give and when they're done? Well, they tower over those remaining until the very ground itself forgets what it feels like to stand in the light.
And so, Seraph fights, with everything she has in her to get to that grandeur.
But perhaps she's not alone.
At her right? Three swords, poised at the ready for defense or offense.
And behind her?
A straw hat, perched above sparkling eyes and grinning cheeks.
The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all.