They are coming. There are so many rushing to their border and Cerva doesn’t know what to do. There is still no one from here; they are all outsiders bearing the scent of distant kingdoms. The girl looks from one side to another as the snow airily descends and coats the ground in a layer of white. There is no King, not even a Queen, or a ranked member. There is just her as the weeks melt into months and as fall freezes into winter. She holds no authority here and yet she has to pretend she does. When they see her coming to meet them Cerva has to be confident and welcoming; she has to act as though as has the authority to usher them into a new home or to hear out political announcements. Having grown up in a kingdom alleviates the unfamiliarity of it, but her nerves are still wracking from the unexpected pressure.
Despite the world swirling with white and gray Cerva still can see the figures whenever they reach the Gate’s invisible doors. Her nostrils dilate and drink in the unfamiliar scents and her nutmeg eyes flicker until she finds them and closes the distance. With a more active post in the kingdom she is more readily available and quicker to reach the strangers, whether it’s one at a time or a group. The cost is that she is getting tired and her muscles quiver when she stops as they scream for a rest. Unfortunately, when only she is here, there is no time to rest. It will come soon enough, she tells herself, as she lurches forward to greet the newest at the wall.
”Hello,” her voice is sweet despite having to project it across the howling wind. The prominent winter hangs thickly between them. Snow clutches to her mane and dampens her mahogany coat. ”I’m Cerva,” she offers her name with a delicate grin creeping across her pretty face, ”is there anything I can help you with?” Assuming this is a customary greeting she takes pause and stands as still as a statue despite the tumbling wind whipping her locks back and forth.
Cerva