Mephisto
dusk court warrior
dusk court warrior
T
here is magic in the darkness, building a ribbon of light which intrigues Mephsito as she soars high above the river. It glows with an otherworldly manner, piquing her curiosity as she dips lower – low enough to hear the voices which reach to the heavens in song. Murmuring quietly with intrigue, she follows the light and sound, mirroring the river’s path with each sweep of her wings, until at last she finds a quiet glade where she can investigate the glow on her own. Her eyes are bright with wonder, lips parted with a whisper as she speculates on the source. What are you? Her voice is low and quiet, even as a single firefly leaves the others to land upon her cheek, as she closes her eyes with a purr of satisfaction.Humming quietly, the warg loses her sense of guardedness, letting nature’s magical moment wash over her. All around her, there is light and marvel, and Mephsito allows herself full immersion into the experience.
Her voice is husky and dark, soothing as a summer rain on a hot and sticky day. She sings of an old country, where lovers pine for one another and grief draw them back from being lost again. It is a song she’s known forever – a song from her homeland, a place she’d given very little thought as she’d grown up and away from it. But on nights like tonight where the moon is full and bright, where fireflies dance along her skin, she allows herself to be a young girl once more – lively and filled with hope.
“Aren’t you a lovely thing?” She murmurs to the firefly who fluttered at her cheek, turning into the pulsing wings with a wispy smile. “My grandmother used to tell me stories as a girl – that those who wished on a firefly’s light were sure to find their way.” Her voice grows quieter still, barely audible against the night. “I’ve done my share of searching – I could really use a wish right now…”
She turns then, voices vying in her mind – the eyes of night creatures who spy on intrusions, informing her that one grew closer. With a glance, Mephisto can see him hidden in the shadows, and an explanation hurries across her lips. “Don’t tell them you saw me wishing – I’m far too old for such follies.”
She welcomes the stranger’s presence, sighing whimsically as she stares at the midnight moon. “Still, it seems a night for magic… perhaps a night where wishes might come true.”
A dreamer’s sentiment from a pragmatist – it was a magical night, indeed.
@Mephisto | "speaks" | @Tenebrae
