Mephisto
dusk court warrior
dusk court warrior
T
he night parted, and as shadows pulled back like curtains, they began to expose Marisol’s approaching form. While some newcomers might shy away from such a forward approach, Mephisto simply stands beneath the moonlight, waiting as the other mare grew closer, blinking to make out the details of her form. Even in the darkness, she could make out flecked underside of Marisol’s wings as they hug her body. There is something regal in the way the female walks, something that signifies confidence and strength. Surely, it would be the warriors who greeted strangers in the night. The welcome wagon was probably much more likely to work the day shift.Once Marisol is upon her, Mephisto’s dark ears flicker toward her, listening to the greeting with a quizzical sort of stare. By her hand… that was a new one. Must be some kind of lore. Dipping her head low as a sign of respect, the Pegasus folds her wings tighter against her in a show of deference and to maintain an unthreatening posture. Well met.
There is a quiet that washes over the land, dimming the noise even around the two mares. With only their breathing against the autumn air and the quiet whisper of night creatures in the distance, there is a stillness that begs for reverence. What do you call this land?
The mare is not keen on introducing herself first, but she wants to know more about Novus, having only just arrived. She’d flown high over the desert and the sea, over the river and the festivals and night markets… but Dusk Court seemed the most like a place where Mephisto could see herself. It seemed the type of place she could establish a home and a purpose once more
rallidae
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