Mephisto
dusk court warrior
dusk court warrior
T
he two walked easily from the swamp with an easy gait and a comfortable silence. The dark and mysterious bayou shifted to endless fields of multicolored flowers and long summer grasses. Now, the air grew warm and heavy with dappled sunlight, and Mephisto spread her wings from time to time, allowing the summer wind to play in her feathers and bring much-needed cooling and respite from the heat. Onward they climbed, toward the city and its people, nearing the place with each step as Mephisto’s own trepidation grew. After all, she couldn’t know what they would think of her returning… but this time, at least, she brought a friend and felt less alone than before.”I have no family”, she offers honestly. At times, Mephisto would admit that she wished she had some ties to this world more than the loyalty she offered to her home. She wondered some if she would have made a good mother, a mate to someone. But then, the mare cannot picture herself beside a man. She cannot picture herself as subservient to anyone, or having to answer to another creature. Still, there were days where it seemed like the fantasy could bring her peace and happiness. Mephisto had never really allowed herself to dream of such things – thus far, it just hadn’t been in the cards.
”There are those who consider the court to be a family… perhaps not of blood, but a family you choose.” In time, she would be one who thought such things… but now, Mephisto was as much of an outsider as Aoife. She hadn’t been in the Dusk Court long before her warg powers had seized control of her and stolen away her free will, leaving her in an endless state of confusion over the last few months. Now, she had to wonder if they would even accept her back after deserting the Halcyon ranks. She hoped they would, but it wouldn’t be the first time that she’d rocked the boat.
As they breached the borderlands, Mephisto’s wings folded tightly around her once more, and she clears her throat to offer an explanation. ”Welcome to the Citadel.” It was a grand thing, with its dark stone against the noonday sky, rising toward the heavens in an impressive display of grandeur. Cobbled streets formed through the grass, and as they neared the capital, the two passed several smaller buildings. They were greeted casually by those they passed, offering quiet pleasantries in return, until at last Mephisto and Aoife stood on the capital steps.
”They will meet us here,” she whispers, ”Marisol or her council.” And so, the warg waited for what would come next for the painted mare from a foreign land, wondering all the while what it must be to see this place through Aoife’s eyes, for the first time.
