ephisto walked among the flowers, feeling clumsy where she is usually graceful, not nearly as delicate as the blooms which surround her. A whimsical part of her stops to smell the blooms, burying her face in their colors with a secret smile, taking pleasure in the beauty of them as she purrs contentedly before continuing on her way. All around her, Terrestella is ablaze with new life. Fuzzy foals nuzzle close to their mothers, bleating as they nursed and raced after one another. Trees budded with unfurling leaves, birds rose to the skies with song, and through it all, the sun shone warmly upon them.
Elena’s festival was well underway, strangers coming from all corners of Novus, and the warg smiled congenially at them as they passed. While she wasn’t usually in the welcome party, Mephisto saw her duty now to serve the court more than ever, trying to atone for her absence over the last few months. She had recommitted to Marisol that she would play an active role in the politics here, and so she finds herself murmuring greetings to those who pass and doing her best to be welcoming and show the best face to their visitors.
When their company grows tiresome, she took pause and turned to the castle, winding through its familiar halls and toward its tallest peak. In the stone tower, she had often found peace, stargazing and daydreaming. Now, she peers upon the view – rows of color leading to the sea, enjoying the beauty of it and the order to the rows. From this vantage point, she can also see pictures in the blossoms, which the gardners had left for only the most curious to find.
And as she turns toward a knock on the door, her eyes fall on a stranger, one of their visitors. Halfheartedly, she shifts to allow him to see the fields below, not entirely displeased at the disruption but reluctant to abandon her view. "It’s beautiful, the Spring.” Her voice is low and smooth, like whiskey on a summer’s night. "I haven’t seen you in Terrestella before…” She turns, regarding the stranger with a quiet smile. "What brings you to our festival?”
AND I RAN BACK TO THAT HOLLOW AGAIN / THE MOON WAS JUST A SLIVER BACK THEN / AND I ACHED FOR MY HEART LIKE SOME TIN MAN ❃
Spring has sprung, so to speak, and it is just as lovely as he was hoping that it would be.
He lost what must have been hours browsing the festival, enjoying the simple brightnesses it had to offer; the newborn blossoms, brilliant as first blush, the smell of salty air that is neither warm nor cold, and the crowds upon crowds of people, run through with young lovers and children. He is so engaged in the spirit of the festival that he briefly considers putting on one of the flower crowns that are being woven in the fields himself, but he can scarcely keep his glasses propped upright on his face – he can scarcely imagine how quickly any crown he put on would turn lopsided and awkwardly wilted.
Eventually, he drifts away towards the field, and into the court proper; the grey stone is a far cry from the look of Delumine, harsher and far more similar to a great fortress, but he thinks that it is lovely in a different way, with its blocky towers and stained glass windows. He meanders his way to the castle, wondering if it has been decorated in much the way as the rest of the court, and, though he is quick to discover that it isn’t, he nevertheless climbs up higher into one of the towers, imagining that there is likely a wonderful view of the fields and the sea at some of the higher windows.
(He could fly, of course, if he wanted a really good one – but the sea air is always harsher, and he doesn’t much want to be buffeted about.)
When he comes to a room near the highest spire of one of the towers, he knocks on the door; when no answer comes from the other side, he steps inside, expecting to be alone. Instead, his eyes fall on a pegasus – she is lovely, dark, and sturdy, touched here and there with shades of midnight blue, and he thinks that she rather suits the court. He nearly apologizes for interrupting her, but she doesn’t seem bothered by his intrusion, shifting aside to allow him to see out the window; he strolls up to stand at her side, gazing out at the fields of flowers and the blue rush of the sea in the distance, and, when she speaks, he tilts his head to look at her, green gemstones clinking like chimes about his antlers. “It is,” he agrees, a smile stretching across his lips, “and so is the festival. I’m Septimus, a scholar from Delumine – it’s certainly lovely to have the opportunity to visit Terrastella again.” He pauses for just a breath, at her question. He’d intended to get a bit of work done while he was here, but he’d gotten so distracted by the festival that he doubted that he would accomplish any of the mapmaking or sample collection he’d intended to do. “I’m just sightseeing, mostly. Are you a member of the Dusk Court?” He assumes so, from her question – but they haven’t yet been properly introduced, so he asks regardless.
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
s he opens the door to her tower, Mephisto turns to the disruption, her shrewd eyes falling over his frame. They are not unkind in their study, merely curious as they take in the red of his coat, the ruddy antlers emerging from his crown, the spectacles balanced on his nose. She offers him a smile, warmer than her usual demeanor, appreciative of the quiet approach of a scholar. The disruption could have just as easily been lovers seeking an escape, or worse, a boisterous child. But she welcomed Septimus into her bubble of silent observance with little more than a shift in position.
They gaze over the land, exchanging pleasantries while their eyes feasted on the many beauties of Spring. "Mephisto.” she offers. "You’ve been here before…?” she murmurs quietly, "It is good that you have returned to our festival then, for Terrestella always welcomes the scholars of Delumine to our land. I am a soldier for Marisol’s Halcyon army,” she offers without expanding on the unit’s purpose or her true nature as a spy for their land. "but the Court has always valued knowledge and healing more than war. It is good to find the lands at peace with one another, to break bread with our neighbors and build alliances.”
For though she served to protect their land, Mephisto had never been one with a taste for battle. She stood in defense of their kingdom more than offense, seldom involving herself in the politics and squabbles of man. Instead, she stood for their freedom and their safety, fighting for the elders who couldn’t or the innocent children who relied upon their defenses. She appreciated the relative quiet and calm these days. Peace was always more welcome than war – for those in Novus had enough to deal with, from the whims of their gods and magic.
"There is much to see,” the warg muses as she takes in the intricacies of the view. "I, for one, like to frequent the sea cliffs. There is nothing quiet like the sunset as it stains the ocean waves. The view cannot be better, particularly for those who can fly above it.”
Turning to him, she shifts the conversation to being the inquisitive seeker rather than the welcomer, curious to know more from the stranger and his land. "What is worth seeing in Delumine? I must admit… I haven’t had as much time to explore as I’d like. I have heard that your court is hosting a fire festival now, and plan to explore it for myself. I have heard rumors too, of a great library and a vibrant garden?
AND I RAN BACK TO THAT HOLLOW AGAIN / THE MOON WAS JUST A SLIVER BACK THEN / AND I ACHED FOR MY HEART LIKE SOME TIN MAN ❃
He feels a bit bad for interrupting her, but, if she is bothered, it doesn’t much show on her face; he is content to settle at her side and look out at the flowers, deciding that she seems the type to tell him if his presence were to upset her.
She introduces herself, then. “A pleasure to meet you, Mephisto,” he says, genuinely. “I’ve been here a few times, but I’ve never stayed for very long.” She tells him that she is a soldier in Queen Marisol’s Halcyon (he’s heard of the group of elite pegasi soldiers, but he’s never actually met one before now, and he takes note of it accordingly), and she speaks of how glad she is that Novus is at peace; he gives a nod of his head in agreement. “I’m no native to these lands, but I agree wholeheartedly; I’ve been to lands of constant warfare, and the people were always miserable.” Of course, there was the trouble in Solterra not too long ago, but that did not last forever – he has seen many war-ravaged lands, and, though he has grown rather used to mortals dying in his many years of wandering, those were always the most depressing by far. It was one thing to die; it was another, he thinks, to die miserable.
Mephisto tells him of her favorite view in Terrastella. He draws his gaze back from the window again, looking over at her. “That sounds beautiful,” he admits. “I’ve missed the sea, and the cliffs here are certainly striking.” He’d been too busy with the festival to spend much time with them, and they are crowded right now besides; but the idea of slipping down to them when they are a bit less crowded and watching the waves for a while, perhaps when the sun sets, sounds appetizing to him. There is a coast in Delumine, but it's not quite the same, not to mention that he spends more of his time in the woods and the fields.
When she asks him about Delumine, his expression turns thoughtful, and he tilts his head with a clink of bright green gemstones. “Oh, there’s quite a few beautiful things to see. The fire festival is lovely – I’d certainly recommend visiting it.” He nods, then. “The library is striking; it’s composed entirely of living, carved trees. I suppose that it must be enchanted somehow, because they’ve been carved, but they certainly aren’t dead. There are lanterns hung from the branches, and rows upon rows of shelves. It’s almost like being indoors, but sometimes you catch a glance of a branch sticking out or an odd bit of trunk, and you realize that you’re in a forest instead. And the gardens are absolutely lovely…especially from above. Delumine is known for its flowers, and, I have to say, they certainly live up to their reputation.” He’d been told that the sovereign had plant-related magic, but he imagines that most of the court’s beauty is natural; besides, he has never met Ipomoea.
He barely knows her, but Septimus has always been inclined towards friendliness. Flashing her a grin, he adds, “If you decide to stay a while when you visit the festival, and you’d like to see the sights…I’d happily show you around.”
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
11-07-2020, 09:11 PM - This post was last modified: 11-07-2020, 09:53 PM by Septimus
t is easy to stand beside the scholar and share stories of their respective homes. While Novus had not always been the place she’d called home, it was growing on her. Sure, she missed the wild winters of the Winter Court, but more than the land, she missed the faces within it. When she dreamt at night, Mephisto could see their faces – Karou, Gabriel, Ekaterina. They had been her family, more than anyone here. They had been the blood she’d been wiling to fight for – to die for. And for what? The lot of them had been lost to the Rift-tide magic, a feeling which left a bitterness in her which could not be quelled.
Some nights, she suffered from survivor’s guilt – wondering why the Rift had dumped her here while the others had perished. Still, there were those who she’d met in Novus who remembered, and so the Pegasus holds hope that perhaps one day she might see the others again. These thoughts wash quickly through her mind as she hides them with a smile, wondering aloud to Septimus at his own origins. "Were you born in Delumine? Or in Novus, I should say…?” Her curiosity piques as the rest of the world falls away, all attention focused on the ruddy stallion and his vibrant descriptions.
"It sounds a lovely place , and like you know it well. The library in particular seems a curious sight to behold. I’ve always been keen on learning, though I cannot claim to keep up with Delumine’s scholars. I would like to see it, and gladly take you up on your offer to escort me.” There is an earnest note to her voice, for Mephisto trusted the stranger with his immediate likability and pleasant demeanor. It was refreshing, to be honest, letting her guard down and allowing her curiosity to wander past the walls she generally stood behind.
For it was the magic which clouded her mind, the curse and the blessing. She had little time or patience for the lore of Novus, being slave to many gods and goddesses throughout her life, and finding more toil than gain from worship. But magic was something different entirely, something darker and unpredictable. In the magic, she was prone to lose her sense of control, and thus her sense of identity… and only now was the warg beginning to find ways to harness the strange visions which assaulted her psyche.
She shakes away the thought, wondering what else a newcomer to Terrestella would be interested to see. "Our land is also host to a hospital, dedicated to healing not only our People, but those in Novus writ large. You can find it northeast of here, deep within the Tinea Swamp.”
