Silver Creek Wooden floors, walls, and window sills

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Imprisoned, banished, into a nexus of my own design...
Now Time mocks me, and my sentence is Gravity.

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Without ceremony, Zafina was caught surprised as she sucked in a breath. Oryx was such a meek mortal. Such a willing woman to avoid conflict, to remain gentle despite the situation. Idly, the Goddess wondered if Oryx was Dalia, the Celestial of Maidenhood. Zafina remembered the mannerisms of the Divine, the grace and petite fluid being who had the heart to calm even the most turbulent of occurrences with the sweetest words, or even shy encouragement. She had been one of Zafina’s closest confidants- 

that was until Zafina had broken the friendship apart with her confounding methods.

Almost feeling sympathy for the woman before her, the Witch had snapped out of the depression by recalling Oryx hadn’t understood her initial foreign language. Celestials were educated on the existence of everything; every language was their own creation. So for her to not know, it cancelled out the option of the woman being Dalia.

”Yes,” her mysterious voice waltzed across the river. But how would she settle in with mortals? Should she take the chance to see if this Oryx served Celestials? The Divine mused over the possibility, and fancied the chance. She she allowed the yes to settle between the pair, interested in meeting the woman’s overlords.

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But every sky will build my throne.

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