Mephisto
dusk court warden
dusk court warden
T
ime was a funny thing. She also couldn’t exactly pinpoint when she’d come here. Seasons had changed, and she had changed with them. The world was changed from when she’d arrived, but something he says pricks her interest. "Floods?” Apparently Rhone had been here longer than she, for Mephisto didn’t remember floods in this place. Then again, it was possible they had happened during the time when she’d been away. Those months had been long and strange, and Mephisto had wondered if she would ever find her humanity again. During the time she’d hidden away, she abandoned all thought of anything else, focusing entirely inward as she had tried to make sense of the magic which boiled in her veins. Even now, it was a strange thing, one she did not completely understand, though she was slowly beginning to gain some control."Tell me about the floods… I wasn’t aware.” She listens intently, wondering if their land was still healing from such an event, for surely it would have been a hectic and catastrophic thing to befall Terrestella. "Like you, I cannot say exactly when I came… but it must have been after the floods as well. I’m sure I would have remembered such a thing.” Looking around, she begins to notice things she hasn’t before. Loose mud, fragile plants clinging to rock faces, and places where the ground stayed bare despite the sun’s tending.
Still too, she pauses to look at the grass around Rhone’s feet, watching the way it seemed to reach toward him. A wispy trail of morning glory twisted up his leg, blossoms opening with smiling blue faces that stared upon the stallion, almost…. Lovingly? She quirks a brow at the male and his magic, much more beautiful and peaceful than her own. "They like you, I see… the plants, I mean.” As they stand along the cliff’s edge, the grass seems greener underfoot, and when her eyes trail to the place where Rhone had likely walked, she notes that along his footpath, the ground seems healthier and more vibrant.
"We all give how we can,” she assures him, certain that his gift was appreciated by Marisol and the others. "I wish that I could give something kinder and brighter to this world.” There is a sense of longing in her voice, as if mourning the innocence of the girl which might have been. But life had seldom been a kind thing to Mephisto. From the time of her birth, she’d been left to fend for herself, first by her mother and then by her herd. She’d grown strong out of a sense of survival instead of duty, braving the winter’s chill and building resilience as she went.
But perhaps the youth of this place would not feel such constraints. It was her goal, at least, to give them the life she couldn’t have. For while there wasn’t a mothering bone in Mephisto’s body, she wore the mantle of responsibility well, preferring to serve from the comforts of the shadows, ever watching, the protector.
@Mephisto | "speaks" | @Rhone
