MORPHO With the sea breeze at her back and the wind in her hair, Morpho was at peace. Gone were the whispers of her past that haunted her, and here she felt nothing but alive. Here, she could cast aside the fear and the pain that had plagued her. Here, the mistakes she had once made were forgiven. The Dusk Court was proving to be a warm and welcoming place, and even as she turned to watch the honeyed girl’s face turn from being whimsically lost to warm, her heart went out to Florentine. For though she didn’t know the thoughts that plagued the flower mare, she understood the undertones (however subtle). Such was the curse of an empath, and the gift. Before she can ask if the mare is alright, Florentine is painting on a mask and growing steadily more chipper by the moment. Dredging up her worries could wait, and Morpho returned the girl’s happy words with a smile. Perhaps this mare, with her wings of gold and the dagger at her throat, would be her first friend here. Morpho liked the sound of it. The questions turned to her thoughts of the Dusk Court, and Morpho had to smile. Her voice is quiet, thoughtful as she searches for the words to express her many emotions. For how would one paint a picture of retribution and forgiveness? Quietly, she mused to her new friend. ”I feel at peace here. There is something in the stillness that is a comfort. Something in the whispering wind that soothes me.” And she knew the second girl would understand. For there was a likeness in Florentine, she knew. And it was more than the sea breeze and sunlight. ”And you? You have seen more than here – the world beyond our walls. Tell me, what is your impression of this new and strange world? What secrets does it hold?” |
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