another place. another attempt. once more into the proverbial fire. once more to throw words like weapons. dance about like she gave a damn about the realm she had trod in. and once more to even live. Huntington had arrived in this new place. old to some. new to her. she treads carefully, though not cautiously, through the sparse treeline. pale hellfire burns like acid across the autumn night. camouflaged enough given the appropriate season. there seems to be no light to these orbs, only a calm acceptance of the reality. she does not know where she is and finds she cares little. a lanky scar-ridden limb shoots out until her ivory hoof is cemented to the ground. another step. then again. until she finds herself out of the treeline and into plain sight.
her mane presents down her back, a crescendo of highlights both light and dark. the woman is brittle looking though young. stitching makes up her entirety. old and new wounds cover her frame. she does not blink. she stares, taking in the sight of the area quietly and added it to her memory bank. an ear flicks backward before it returns. alone, it would seem. yet for how long? she oft finds many are drawn to strangers. she is no exception to this hypothetical. someone will come. they always did. for now, she would wait for them to come buzzing about her head like a locust's wraith. she stops in her tracks, half-lids glancing about for any sign of movement. and she speaks not a word. ready to embrace new potentials like a mother would a child, she is.
Mephisto was new to this land, but already she began to feel an itch to wander. She’d listened and observed the goings on in the Dusk Court, had decided already that it would become her home… and yet she felt no loyalty to this point for those who dwelled within its walls. Though the dark Pegasus was still exploring the wilds of Novus, she’d begun to make some sense of its divisions. The lands were still nameless to her, as were the gods… but they almost certainly worshiped some sort of deity, for whispers had already found their way to her. And so, Mephisto had made it her mission today to learn more of the lore, to find the place where those who dwelled in Novus paid their dues to their gods. Thus, she finds herself in Ruris.
For a piece, she walked alone in the dusky autumn night. There was a coolness and a stillness to the shadows, and it called to her vagabond soul. Drawn away from the din, she relished the quiet that surrounded her, listening to the crickets and bullfrogs as their chorus joined with the cry of the wolf pack. Moonlight lit her path, bright and high in the sky, bathing the world in silver shadows. With every step, she found herself close to Veneror Peak, convinced that the gods would find the highest place to the heavens, to make their home.
Where she’d come from, there’d been no gods or overlords – there was only a wild sort of magic which dictated their fortunes and outlook. In a way, she had learned to appreciate the twisting fate of time… but there was something to be said for the stability of the Solar Courts here. Though Dusk Court was not without its drama and chaos, there is at least a sequence to the land. Still, she is as much an outsider as Huntington – nameless and hopelessly new to this strange world.
With her mind lost in thought, the warg might have missed the quiet footfalls of Huntington – but she is always at least mildly focused on her surroundings. Call it a woman’s intuition, a spy’s innate senses… but in either case, she turns toward the sound and just makes out the skull-like markings of her face in the moonlight.
Good evening. Mephisto’s voice is low and smooth as she addresses the second mare, stepping closer with her blue-black wings tucked tight against her frame. What brings you into the night, in this place so devoid of other wanderers? It was a question she could easily ask herself, but she stands awaiting response from the stranger instead.
she will take it as she is able to do. slowly, purposefully, a calculation in every single thing. this realm is just another on a long list of potentials. she has thus far been unable to settle anywhere. none of them lived up to their 'hype'. none of them made her remain very long. nothing was holding sway. the magic she had been gifted upon her creation was once more stripped away as she entered this land. another annoyance. she was no stranger to such things, true, yet she found the whole thing bothersome. sent tumbling into a new place like a child, a babe, fresh out of the proverbial womb. such as the will of these foreign deities.
for she did feel their presence here. the woman had at least an inkling of such a thing. their gaze turned from her, unknown to her that she had chosen to remain a solo in a community setting. she would bend the knee to no court - for she was completely unaware of the factions. she would not make a choice without being informed. though every landscape she entered did have some semblance of communities. t'would be the only time to tell if she would be suited to it. pale eyes would shift, though her head did not, at the appearance of another. focusing on the mare before her, she would say nothing at first.
"mayhap I simply feel like being an oddity" she would reply, her tone deadpan and quiet. which was how she always addressed others in truth. "there is no crime, surely, against it?"
The quiet stills around them, until only the two of them seem present in the darkened glade. Fringed by the tall grasses of the Plain, they watch as if daring the other to speak. When Huntington finally does, Mephisto’s smile is swift and her laugh is low and husky. Touche. she quirks an eyebrow at the stranger. I wouldn’t know though… I’ve only just come to these parts. They seem a kindly sort though, for the most part. For though Mephisto had heard rumblings of an uprising and impending war, she hadn’t personally seen it come to light. As a newcomer, she wasn’t privy to what had come before.
I am Mephisto. she offers simply, not adding “of the Dusk Court”, since she truly didn’t affiliate with the kingdom of yet. Had the dark Pegasus been in Novus longer, she might have been able to offer an introduction to the Eluetheria Plain, to Novus, or from the gods… but she knew none of the names. Instead, Mephisto only knew the way the kingdoms looked from the sky – from mountains, to deserts, to sea cliffs. The rest would come with time.
She walks a few paces away from the stranger, giving her space to decide whether or not she wanted to continue their awkward introduction. Stretching her wings wide in the moonlight, her feathers ruffle before they settle back in a resting position against her body. I was on my way to the mountain, if you’re curious what lies at the top. While she could have flown, it made more sense to walk the long route to Veneror Peak, to understand better the land she now tentatively called home. I’m told the gods are worshipped there. Pausing, she struggles to find a way to make small talk with the mare she knew so little about. What of the place where you’ve come from?
she regards the other silently. taking in the feathered wings and the difference of coloring. to Huntington, nothing is remarkable. the bird appendages were something she never had interest in. you lost so much, missed so much if you flew and did not trod. though that was quite a personal opinion. why soar the heavens when the earth had everything you could ever hope for? it was a borderline hellscape as if the gates of Hades grazed lovingly on the mortal realm. yes, there was so much to do and so much to see... yet delicate little conflicts arose just as easily as kindness. that was much more fascinating. she did not want to miss anything.
the other laughs, tilting a brow to her. the skull clad woman says nothing to this, gathering a reason to give a name when one was given back. Mephisto. the name of the creature that had given Faust his deal. whether it was truly a demon or merely an entity pretending to be one... they had the proverbial power to grant a wish. it could mean any sort of granting beings. djinns, for instance. all stories had some merit. "Huntington" Mephisto's name enough cause a slight interest. she had never known it to grace a woman's soul. talk of the mountains caused her eyes to flicker to the peaks she could see. so there were gods here.
"deities... how many?" she would ask softly, gaze returning to the other's face. yes, she could feel their presence yet a name to a face was always something, wasn't it? "place" she would repeat and if she had a mind for it she would have blinked, for she had been to many places. all had their own biospheres. their own laws and traditions. their own gods. she never gave away information for free, though. "I am here now" she would utter "that is what matters."
Huntington. It was an interesting name, and not one that she would have guessed if given the chance. Silently considering, she nodded in response, filing the mare’s name within her memory for next time. She is silent for a minute, taking in more of the stranger in the moonlight. She was more than the skull pattern on her face, her mane and tail adorned with feathers and bone, her eyes a smoky sort of gold, hints of ruby in her hair. Perhaps she was a huntress of sorts, Mephisto muses… but she does not ask… for it is clear the mare was not one for eloquence. Still, there is enough intrigue wrapped around the stranger to pique her curiosity.
Four, though I cannot tell you all of their names. She focuses on the question of the gods. Our goddess at least, is Vespera… but from what I gather, she’s not well liked. These pieces of the lore had come to her just over the past few days, from listening and observing the quiet squabbling in the Dusk Court. There were whispers of a betrayal and some drastic event. She needed to learn more about Vespera and her kingdom though, to give the goddess a fair shake before writing her off like the others.
Come then, if you wish… we should be able to summit the mountain by dawn. She begins to walk toward Veneror Peak, turning back only once to see if Huntington would follow. After all, Mephisto didn’t have all day to dawdle with awkward small talk. If Huntington planned to open up to her at some point, it wouldn’t be from chatting about the weather. She knew she had to offer something personal, something in return. Information was the currency of spies, after all.
As she begins to move, Mephisto casually offers insight into her own story. The place I came from was quite unlike here… it was a place where time shifted and twisted the world. You could blink your eyes, and be somewhere else than where you started. It was a fanciful thing to imagine, indeed. We had no gods, only the magic to worship or to curse.
preferring to hide in the shadows, at home in the escape, the woman was usually not 'good' at being thrust into the spotlight. if Mephisto assumed she would go along with her because she was here, well, she would be mistaken. it was not comradery that drew her in. it was seeking. the potential of seeing deities once more walk the landscape... fascinating. she cared little for gods and their eternal whimsy. she only wanted to know who was who. who to avoid, who to come to for power, who did what. that sort of thing. in the reality of it, Huntington gave a definitive zero shits about what the deities did here.
and even less for the people that chose to worship false idols. realistically, she would reason, each land had their own gods. there was never a 'true' god. there was never just one pantheon. how does one know what is correct? how does one know they simply are being manipulated by lesser beings that are filled with deity-like powers? or this was merely the ravings of a madwoman who had turned her back on gods long ago. they never seemed to answer her when she called. "not one to follow popular opinion, I see" she would reply at last, though no flicker of amusement crossed her deadpan features.
Mephisto would turn away, to follow up to the peak. creaking softly, her own limbs would trail after. "four gods" she would muse quietly, though audible enough for the other to notice "different factions, I assume, worship each one?" it was a clear and direct sort of thing. one she had encountered before. each community had its own deity. it was practical, to them, not to sully or mix with other religious beliefs. how sad for them. not knowing the other side, all sides, was a poor decision. yet she did not pity them much. "many would say you were gods." she would add to Mephisto's tale.
"holding power makes one a god in the eyes of those that do not have it" the woman uttered.
You may worship whichever you’d like, I suppose… all, some, or none of the gods. This was the draw to serving no court and roaming like a wisp on the wind. Huntington owed no one her loyalty. She could come and go as she pleased, worship as she pleased, and sell her services to the highest bidder. There was something to be said for forging a path all your own. Once, Mephisto had done just that. Then, she’d found herself a home and built something of a small community with the faction that lived within its walls. And then… then it had all crumbled in an act of brutal war.
The past was behind her, though she had no regrets for the path which brought her here. True, they had drunk the power of the magic, fulfilling their greatest fantasies and becoming creatures far superior to their own mortal limitations. But the magic took from them too – it took and took until there was nothing left. It stole away families, lands, and even the sanity of those who wielded it. No, the Rift had not been a forgiving thing. If anything, it was as much a curse as it was an opportunity.
I suppose the grass is always greener… She leaves the notion at that, turning toward the mountain and walking in silence beside Huntington. As they move away from the plain, flowers and grass give way to rocks at the foothills. Nearing the base of the mountain, she stops and looks up toward the heavens, breathing a deep sigh as the sun rolls behind the peak, casting shadows on this place. And then, the two begin to climb.
@Huntington (wrapping this up so we can get the signos and working on a new post for you at Veneror)
little else needs to be said, in truth, for she was not going to spill her proverbial guts simply because another was being welcoming. she had learned the difficult way that they always seemed to abandon her when she required the most out of them. Mephisto was no different. a passing fancy at best, pursued due to the curiosity of the worshipping in this unknown landscape. Huntington would drop her before she was dropped. that was the plan, anyway. she seemed to always follow through on them regardless.
the skull clad woman said nothing as the two ascended from the plains to the mountain region. she supposed she should count herself 'lucky' that she could worship whoever and whatever she pleased. though she was not a religious being at her core. dipping a few times in other religious values and beliefs was more her style. finding if there was truth to their system, see if it worked and could be applied logically to practice... that was fascinating. at least, to her it was. she did doubt others shared such an interest. woe be them, stuck in their archaic belief system.
