Foxglove

On hold for Micklanis 145/5000 paid




Something was coming. All the signs pointed to it, there was no denying it. So when Korvax asked her to investigate the tunnels under the mansion, Mephyst readily agreed.

Mephyst had an uncomfortable relationship with the tunnels. They were where she met the vampire Lilith, who turned her, but it was also dark and peaceful, and the silence was a refuge after the business of the mansion.

The upper levels of the tunnels were occupied by members of the clan who had fled the plague of bees that was tormenting the mansion, and Mephyst was glad to leave them behind. She didn't dislike the clan dragons, she just preferred her own company.

Mephyst wandered deep, far past Lilith's temple and into the natural caves that contained the Rip in the veil that Korvax so loved to study. She paused to gaze at it, a pale wisp of smoke that shimmered and danced. Such a strange portal, it took you to the misty place between Life and Death, where unhappy souls rested. Even at a distance she could hear their mournful cries.

Turning away, she followed the slight tug Korvax had mentioned, the sense of a powerful mind deep below the earth. It was a strange mind, darting away at her touch. Her curiousity prevailed, and she followed the tunnels so deep it began to grow warm and humid. Strange mushrooms grew in clusters on the wall, blue bioluminescence allowing her to better see the shape of the tunnels. She could see perfectly well in the dark, but the mushrooms strange beauty was entrancing, and she was happy for the light.

The mind darted away again and Mephyst followed. It became a chase the closer she got, the mind, rippling with barely contained power, but also riddled with fear.

It was many hours later when she finally cornered him. The mind belonged to an imperial, a huge, hulky shape in the shadows a full third larger than her. But he cowered away, the power within him banked. Quiet words brought his head up, and their eyes met.

The gentle green of his eyes bored into hers, and Mephyst forgot herself. All that existed was the imperial before her, the green shimmer of his scales a distraction.

Sebastos was his name. His was an ancient lineage, one soaked in tragedy and hardship. There was an accident, and a fire, and he had fled, ashamed that he was unable to control his power. Mephyst smiled, and stroked his head, assuring him that he had arrived in a clan full of teachers who were more than powerful enough to not be in danger from him.

Their love was slow and hesitant. Sebastos had many wounds to heal, but Mephyst was patient, and soon a nest of three eggs was hatched.

Foxglove was curious and friendly. He was ever getting into trouble for poking his nose into other people's business, and small objects have a tendency to end up in my pockets.