Meirchion

        In the middle of the Garden, there is a great tree. No one is quite sure how it grew, in the middle of the plague lands, but it is there, tall and green and guarded. At the base of that tree, there is a door. A elegant, wooden door, looking like it grew along with the tree, green and gold and oak. There is only one key to the door, hanging off of the neck of power and knowledge. Inside that door, there is a staircase, leading down,

down,

down,

with roots along the walls and ceiling and floor, twisting and choking and drawing closer, closer, closer. At the bottom of that staircase, there is a cell, and in front of that cell, Meirchion waits. He guards, sitting day after day after day, fulfilling his duty. Eat, drink, and guard. The short periods of rest he gets when one of the Sentries come down for the time of sleep, and then it's back to waiting, always. Meirchion doesn't hate it, really, it's what he was born to do, after all. Sometimes though, he wishes he could leave. Even if it was just so he didn't have to hear his voice anymore.

        "Oh, Meirrrcchhhiiii-"

Meirchion felt his snout twist into a snarl. 

        "Shut up, prisoner." He growled, spinning around at the sprawling form draped across the bars. He had taken after a mirror, as usual, all rippling purples and vibrant blues. 

        "Woowww, how rude. What did little old me ever do to you, hmm?" The voice pinged around in Meirchion's head, a dull buzzing in his ears. The being's upper lip curled, revealing row after row of sharp, glinting teeth. Meirchion huffed, turning back to face the staircase.

        "It is not my duty to make conversation." 

He heard a hum, and claws going click, click, click.

        "Yet you indulge me anyways."

Meirchion said nothing. 


A week of silence passes, and a new lock is added to the door, while the one who waits rests.


Meirchion returned from his time of rest, nodding at Providence as she goes back to her post. He settles in front of the cell, glancing at the prisoner within. 

        "You're back."

He wrinkled his snout, puzzling over the surprised note in the creature's voice.

        "Yes?" He twisted his neck, looking over his shoulder. "Why would I not be? This is my duty."

The other ducked, drawing his neck in and lifting up his wings. 

        "You've never left before. I thought they..." His head lifted, four violet eyes peering at him. "...reassigned you."

Meirchion frowned. Had the prisoner been...worried about him? He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. No, that wasn't it. Most likely the beast found him more amusing than he did the others. 

        "I was resting. I will do so next month as well. One of the others will take up my post then too." 

He had forgotten that the prisoner hadn't been here long. Neither had Meirchion, he supposed, having been posted higher in the tree earlier.

        "Oh."

It seemed the being decided to be a little less annoying. Meirchion was glad, he supposed.

        "Hey, can I call you Meir?"

...Or not. But, Meirchion figured he could deal with it.




Amazing art by satanbacons!