Lamp

"No," Lamp mutters as another moth bumps gently into his snout, settles upon it and stares intently into his eyes. "Bad. Please don't do that."

It's unfortunate that he can't actually speak moth; The critter simply proceeds to take off to sit upon his horns and make itself quite comfortable alongside a handful of its brethren, and Lamp muses to himself that if he could, then perhaps it'd be convenient to have a moth army to his disposal— Though much smaller than the Mith beastclans, they could prove a force to be reckoned with based on sheer levels of being a nuisance. Bumping into reading-lamps, eating through wing-covers and tarps, leaving stains on book-covers where they had been crushed, be it accidentally or deliberately...

Alas, it was not to be. But perhaps, at this moment, it is alright. The night is temperate, a gentle breeze threading through the leaves with gentle, wispy fingers, and even his own light cannot blot out that of the stars and moon far above. The moths still in his soft glow, light casting a steady halo about him upon the golden grasses underfoot.

A clawed hand reaches up to run a digit along the chain of his necklace. He could stay out here a bit longer. It would be a shame to leave these little ones behind when they had finally settled down, truly— His reading could wait til tomorrow.