1. Seraphic

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. weekly debate

s e r a p h i n a

☽ ☾

Another week, another meeting.

This week all she had to go to the Salvatore's home for was to receive an update on the war effort and the numbers of their army's soldiers who were still out on the battlefront, fighting a war that didn't affect her.

She was privileged, living safely in the walls of a magnificent and grand palace, and she intended to use that privilege for good.

Diana had come along, of course, but painting boy had stolen her almost the second she stepped through the doorway, throwing Seraphina a crooked smile in greeting before he took her and went.

Salvatore had just rolled his eyes, as if used to his antics.

She decided to sit in the war room this time, but then saw how high the seats really were. She struggled getting onto the kitchen's barstools, for goodness sake. But these ones were even higher.

Thankfully he was still off in his chambers, unable to see her struggling to climb on to the seats that were unnaturally high—almost as if to tease her...

Seraphina narrowed her eyes at the chair. "I know your ways," she said.

She gasped, startled, when she felt hands on her hips—his hands. He lifted her and set her onto the chair, making his way round to his seat at the head.

"Thank you," she muttered, cheeks burning from the shadow of his touch that had remained.

"I have been watching you struggle to sit in that chair for a concerning amount of time." It wasn't that long. "Next time, ask for help. I won't kill you. Being short is not a viable reason for any murder."

She gaped. "I am not... that short."

"Are you really going to waste your breath arguing this when you know the truth?" he remarked. "You might as well start me on an argument about how disgusting sugar is."

"I love sugar," she said, pouting slightly. "Especially my sugar buns."

She had brought a batch along, and she set the bag in her lap on the table. It was a peace offering, or an agreement at civility at least.

She might have eaten a few of them in the morning.

"I am afraid you wasted your baker's time. I do not like sugary foods. They are too sweet."

Probably because he was so bitter.

"I did not waste my time with these because I like them, and you might not but that is not to say that others here will not."

"You are not feeding them anything that came from that palace of yours, Angel."

"Why not?" she questioned.

"How am I supposed to know someone didn't lace the food with something in the hopes of poisoning us?"

"The only person who has been in contact with these are me. From start to end. There was no-one else in the kitchen but me. I promise."