[P] She walks a lonely road

[Marisol]

blessed in spirit are the poor

When Marisol has thought of Mephisto in these path months, it has been in fleeting moments only. 

A second of worry when she walks past the warrior’s empty quarters, her room a dark spot in the lit hallways of the barracks. A brief prickle of anger when she gazes into her crowd of cadets and doesn’t see those brown and blue wings. Once, on a particularly frustrating night—some evening in winter, cold purple and black, when everything seemed to be going wrong—Marisol had felt personally slighted by her disappearance. Abandoned. Victimized, even.

To see Mephisto standing in front of her brings up a mess of emotions. Even worse (although Marisol dislikes herself for thinking about it in this way) is that she does not seem to be injured: at least that would be a cut-and-dry, satisfactory explanation. 

Things are never that simple. And Marisol is not easily impressed. Something deep inside of her warns that what Mephisto has to tell her will be enough to heal Marisol’s distrust. Another part wants desperately for that not to be true.

It is fitting that you should take his place – for no one loves or serves Terrestella better. Marisol ducks her head for a split second. Despite herself, she is flattered. The position lost its sense of novelty long ago, but it still weighs on her; perhaps it is even heavier nowadays. The praise of her people means more than it ever has. So perhaps she is just a little warmer, a little softer, than usual when Mephisto begins to speak.

She watches the blue-and-brown pegasus with a carefully leveled, smooth, steel-grey gaze. And as the warrior explains herself, Marisol’s only reaction is a slight narrowing of her gaze here, the brief flickering of an ear there; and although her first reaction is suspicion, curiosity, even shock, she holds her tongue until Mephisto trails off and even then waits a moment to respond.

“Well,” she says, and swallows. “Mephisto. Thank you firstly for your candor, and for your apology; it is much appreciated. It… it does seem that your gift might be a boon to the court. But if it comes at the cost of leaving you weak or vulnerable, then I cannot in good conscience ask you to use it.”

A brief pause as Marisol lets out a held breath. “If you would like to rejoin us, then I will require your service, as I do of all other Terrastellans.. But how you choose to serve can be discussed.”

She swishes her cropped tail behind her, where it makes a brief whipping sound against her legs. It’s rare for Marisol to talk this much, especially all at once, and by the time she closes her mouth her throat is beginning to hurt. 

She reaches for a cup of tea on the side table and offers one to Mephisto, too.

"Speaking."

queen marisol

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