[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

Skill: [none]

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Suddenly, Euphemia was wrapped up in a blanket of anxiety that had been more than six months in the making. She remembered the last election, and the silence that had followed nomination, all fearful to take up the helm titled Courage. She remembered the somber voting, most done in the memory of Genghis, the devoted dog who had exemplified the idea of courage itself.

She remembered the vote of her own twin, for Nottin instead of herself.
She remembered the tears she had shared with Vidarr afterwards, utterly hopeless.

Then there was the silence that came afterwards – the void that followed of being deemed useless, at least in her eyes. For so many months, she had been listless, unable to do more than keep the dried and stalest of herbs. She felt demeaned, underappreciated, and was mentally susceptible to those who wanted to abuse her.

Why would Euphemia ever want to make herself vulnerable in that same way ever again?

The answer lay in the face of that tri-colored storyteller, the one who only spoke of himself in the third person. It was for him, that she felt it was even possible to try once more. If it weren’t for him, Euphemia would have been fine to relegate the rest of her days to curating her storehouse and relating closely with no one, not even her sisters.

Without him, the silver maiden would be just that – a maiden, turned crone, forevermore.

So Euphemia held the man’s gaze, and she did not let go. She managed to draw stability from this, and a sense that the voting didn’t truly matter. It wasn’t the result of the election that gave her true value. She, herself, determined how she related to others as well as the tasks she undertook. She could seek tutors, find patients to treat. She could listen to others and advise them on their paths. She didn’t always have to be so sad.

She might never, ever be sad again!

In fact, she might have more agency within Dawnbreak as an untitled member of the Pillar of Wisdom, rather than the head of it – subject to all sorts of responsibilities and expectations. But she was here, and this was now, and she had already put her name forth, and Aurelia had already cast her vote for Euphemia.

It was truly all the silver sylph had needed to hear, and could listen no more. Euphemia dulled her hearing, and kept her fluttering gaze trained on Adonis. Through her tunnel vision, her heart stilled. Her mind became one-pointed. There was not a moment she did not look directly at the starchaser.

When there was an opening between votes, Euphemia’s voice lifted to fill the space before she could stop it. “I abstain to vote for Wisdom, and I cast my vote to Brynhild for Power, and she stopped a moment, somewhat surprised at what words she had spoken. Better to sustain Tiberii through the dark rending of the world, she reasoned luridly. Euphemia did not know what was to come, but she knew Tiberii needn't have more responsibility than she already had.

and Nottin, I put my family –and future family– in your hands, entirely.

The children of Dalmatia and Nottin, or the eventual children of her and Adonis – suddenly, progeny and legacy were all she could think of. Euphemia wondered what hers would be. She wondered if this was enough to keep it safe. She wondered if her name would be secure, through the darkest of times. She wanted Adonis's face to be preserved for generations to look upon and wonder who it came from.

Euphemia stepped back, exhaled, and finally looked at the ground.

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