[PRP] Fool's Paradise [Alyssum and Mephistopheles] [Fin]

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

Alyssum's ears flicked back at a slight rustle in the bushes, immediatly spinning around to see... nothing. Again. Just like the last time. Digging a nervous hoof into the scraggly grass, her violet eyes carefully explored the darkness just to double check. No. Nothing there.

With a huff she started up again, her tail beating a faint tempo against her thighs as she swung it uneasily. Normally, the chocolate mare held no fear of her forest home, but she had stumbled on a new place within it, an area heavily knotted with intertwining tree limbs and vines that almost completely blocked out the sun. Must curled in her nose, and she whinnied in protest as her mane brushed against a long cobweb. She shook her head furiously to be rid of the sticky material, and even then she could not get it completely out. Still, it could have been worse; it could have held the spider.

Flicking her tail in distaste, Alyssum picked up her speed, determined to reach the other side of this place. She wouldn't be happy until she saw the sun again...  

[Lady_Ourania]

There were inaudible whispers running through the ground, spinning across the interconnected ceiling overhead. The speech was incessantly, flung out toward neighbors, muttered to themselves, to the animals that staggered through, suddenly lost when they had been compass-sure of their location before. And Mephistopheles listened to these conversations, sometimes mere eavesdropping, sifting through the spider web vibrations of sound to find where insects of interest were caught. The trouble with trees was that they discussed in a slow, methodical way, and the ancient ones wasted centuries on drawing conclusions, feeling around every possibility until they arrived at a logical end. It was not by choice: he knew from personal experience that it was difficult to focus when entombed in a body that stretched tall enough to scrape the sky, forced to weather everything. So it was the younger, sprightly generation of trees that he asked for specifics, expecting them to comply; and they did, grudgingly or otherwise. He was not who he had been, his interaction now interference, and no longer as welcome. Only the quietly shared thread of fear kept them from mutiny, dispelling any serious considerations of shucking his influence and shoving him out to wither alone. There was power in him, no matter how diluted after his long imprisonment. Liquid chaos sat on his chest, anger coiled in the empty sockets of his eyes, and when his voice stirred up from the gristle and splinters of his chest, he would be answered.

That was how he discovered the intruder's presence, the branches rattling, roots shifting to give the creature's position away. He followed the hints of discomfort, his great body moving unhurriedly through a sea of verdure, cloven hooves sinking into the choking blankets of pine needles and leaves. It was fortunate that optimism had been wrung out of him long ago, or he might have felt a quivering around his heartwood at the prospect of a four-legged entity entering the inner reaches of his home.

Many months prior, the stallion had counted down the days until his child would arrive, bearing its fake father's denial and its mother's warm, soil-rich blood. Patience had never fully existed in him, even before the curse had sheathed him in bark, making the task all the more agonizing. And well after the time when his promised foal was to be delivered, there had come no word. Stillborn, perhaps, doomed before it had begun. Or more damning still, the seed he had planted at a distance never took, an option that made his jagged lips twist in distaste. There was no guarantee, it was true, and perhaps the blue steed and his meat-purse princess had stolen away in hopes of avoiding the inevitable. He wished cannibalism and sterility on the both of them, the fools. One vainly escaping from a bloody nature while the other trysted with a known killer. He envisioned flesh stuck in teeth and salt sowed in womb, and he stopped just short of taking a sip from the bottle around his neck. If they set foot anywhere within his reach, however, that deserved some form of retribution.

Hidden by vegetation and shadows, his nostrils flared as he glimpsed a running body, silently observing until he had confirmed a mare in his sights. Her distress warmed him, causing the rooted trunks on his back to stretch upward like hands, trying to seize the feeling for keeps. There were still the tiny pleasures to partake in, he supposed, and when prey vibrated the webs, well... "Little fillies should know better than to play in devils' traps." He thrummed, his voice reaching out with images of hooked branches, echoing to snare her legs.  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

Alyssum had never felt as clumsy as she did now, black hooves blending into the darkness to the point that even if she looked straight down she could barely see them above the ground. Small wonder that every root seemed to rise up and snag her feet, causing everything from a short stumble to a full out trip. The last of them sent her to her knees, the rough bark of her assailants scraping a bit of her hide away. She neighed in pain as she struggled back to her hooves, relieved to have solid earth beneath her again, and she glared at the thick roots that had caught her off guard. She had spent her admittedly short life protecting the forest as best she could and had recieved plenty of rewards for her efforts. A home, protection, life bounding around her... but never had it struck against her.

This part of the forest, however, was unlike any she had ever encountered, filled with shadows and silken whispers that contradicted everything she stood for. No light. No open statements. No acceptance. A place filled with hiding places and lurking threats. The chocolate mare gritted her teeth as she started forward again, her thigh muscle beginning to twitch. The worst part, more than anything else, was the feeling of this forest. Even though she couldn't see anything, she felt eyes on her, and that constant, silent stare only raised her nervousness, making her want to increase her speed even though she couldn't due to the unfamiliar terrain.

The voice that emerged from behind her fit into this world, curling in her ears and making them flick back and forth nervously even as she jumped. This irritated her injured leg, but Alyssum hissed back another cry of her pain. Her spine stiffened, which affected her movements as she turned slowly. Her defenses were raised, and she held her head high as she stared sightlessly into the darkness as she called back, "I'm not that little... and I'm not playing. I'm just trying to get out!"  

[Lady_Ourania]

Such a quivery little mare, tripping all over herself, her bumpkin words tossed vainly toward an unseen danger. The trees chattered in a distant wind, dead limbs smacking like jaws and masking his position as Mephistopheles shifted to examine her, skirting the copse until he was close enough to make out features. Her tell was a muscle in her thigh, the damp sheen on a dark coat making it gleam whenever it moved, jumping like a serpent trying to surge up from its basket to the commanding tune of his voice. He couldn't smell as he once had, nostrils clogged with resin-scents and earth, but he caught hints of her broken skin from the previous fall. The blood welled bright, a few beads pattering down when she moved to find him, and they were immediately sucked away by the greedy soil. Peasant fare, little better than the droppings of birds who flew too low, but the grounds were starved, and he would not deny them a chance to drink. He had denied them once before, to poor results.

"Is that so?" Her forced attitude nonetheless tempted a smile onto his face, one that cracked through the smooth bark and up toward his ears. Vines sprouted from his jaw to suture the mess back to its original shape, and he ignored their work while he mused. "And if there was no way out? What then? Would you run until your lungs ached? Until your bones powdered and your heart clotted shut? I ask only out of curiosity, for you see..." He stepped forward, his sprout-horn breaking cover before the rest of his face emerged. "I lost all of those items some time ago, and I find that I miss their faulty craftsmanship." If he had a heart, it was petrified wood in his chest cavity. No danger of it clenching shut.

And the stallion knew the figure he cut, weeping willow-braids swinging around wooden shoulders, twisted boughs encasing him like jealous lovers blended into his body. The darkness would not lend him softness, the green afterglow refusing to blunt the edges of him. He was tree and he was not; he was the rough caricature of an equine, an approximation dressed in eyeless slits and slivers. Weighed down by the seedlings on his spine, he was not swift in revealing the entirety of himself. But then, he did not necessarily have to be. After all, demons worth their title did not chase; they lured.  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

Alyssum could hear rather than see her conversational companion at first, her ears swiveling to catch the rustle of leaves, the faint snap of dry twigs. She didn't like the diction of this unseen entity, however; she found his (she was certain it was a he, certainly no female could have that horror-ridden dialogue) words purposefully intimidating. The sound of the voice, however, had a strange allure to it, one that made her flick her ears back and huff at herself. That was silly - to be taken in by the sound of a voice when the words were so unfriendly.

Still, she answered back with her usual certainty, keeping her posture as straight and tall as possible. Fumbling about in the dark wouldn't do her any good, and she still had to pinpoint the location of whoever (or whatever) spoke to her. "As long as there's a way in, there's a way out. If necessary, I'd turn around and go back the way I came. It'd take a long time, but eventually I'd find my way, like I always do. And even if my lungs hurt for a while, I'd take a rest. I don't intend to do... any of that other stuff you're talking about."

At the first signs of movement, a sprout of foliage that came forward on its own, Alyssum asked, "... Laurelin?" But no, this couldn't be the sweet-heart mare of spun gold and carefully nurtured forest... the outline was too harsh, too much like the tangled, shadowy world of this part of the forest. Besides... hadn't she already determined that the owner of the voice had to be a male? However, there were definite similarities, particularly in the foliage decoration that she could see, the living gift of the forest imprinted onto their physical form.

The twitch in her thigh was a warning sign that she knew she shouldn't ignore; it had always told her when a situation just didn't feel right. However, her ever present curiosity compelled her forward, determined to get a better look at this thing that could spin bone-crunching morbidity into silver tones that teased her ear. Tilting her head, she found herself asking, "So... are you the guardian of this part of the forest?"  

[Lady_Ourania]

For an off-color bit of nothing, he had to admit that she held herself fairly well against his onslaught, steeling up like a lamb trying to enfold its wool in new, vicious clothes before the wolf could ask too many questions. "Ah, but you've noticed that this forest is not at all like the others. Doorways open, entrances vanish. Labyrinthine. It's a lovely sight to behold, if you can manage to be everywhere at once." Not that he could, but his sources were invaluable to him, and it was simple to pretend omnipresence to an outsider. "We so rarely intend to do anything. Yet if actions were devoid of intent, there would be some significant amount of physical chaos, don't you agree? And there's nothing wrong with a grain of that, here and there. Sprinkled like rain. It is the actionless intent that bears grey buds in place of fruit." He purposefully spoke to muddle her, watching to see if she would steer clear of the bait, or be strung along into the dusky mouth of his humor. She was young, and there was a measure of foolishness that went along with it, regardless of perceived maturity. A few hours of conversation, and she would wish for one of the terrible ends she so deplored to visit her once again.

But her first word upon his surfacing gave the stallion pause, any anticipation put on hold while he reevaluated her. If his face bore more expression, it would have registered some surprise at the name, a curious amalgamation of sounds and impressions. Did he detect something flowery in it? A greenness, at least, and out of place in his stretch of woods. "I believe you've mistaken me for another." And why was that? He was not a common creature, and she had only said the name when she had seen him. His mind ticked, cobwebby cogs stirring, the teeth catching slowly before they ran and sent the answer sparking up to his half-rotten skull. Not so still after all. And yet, as alert as he was, he let it go for a moment longer, needing to collect his thoughts. This one, this mare, knew a Laurelin, had mistaken his face for theirs. After all of his insinuated unpleasantness, he would need to reinvent himself in front of her. He would become something else, an amiable animal, if he wished to learn more.

Her question made his notched eyes narrow, holding in a flood of annoyance. The trouble was her perceptiveness, another obstacle he had not seen coming. It only kicked in at intervals, so there was a chance that he could avoid the blasted device. "I am Mephistopheles, and I am indeed a guardian, of a sort." He responded, his split, golden hooves guiding him forward, out from the shade where she could have her fill of looking. "I was once undisputed on that title, but I was robbed of it, as well as those flawless faults that I mentioned before."

The tree-bearing male stopped, glancing up at the surrounding vegetation and casting his words lower. "Such cruelty is housed here, my dear, such... brutality. It is hard to bear, difficult to witness a young, lovely sight such as yourself becoming part of its immensity. But I am a selfish beast, and it does me well to have another to confide in." He shook his adorned head, then, the gesture carrying a hint of subtle embarrassment. "I hope I have not frightened you, but it is imperative that you know where you are. These are not friendly acres in which you walk without aim."  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

The curious sensation overcame her again, this time causing Alyssum to grit her teeth as she struggled to understand the web of words spun around her. Terror-inducing diction remained a key component, but then other things... about actions, intent, chaos... why couldn't this stallion just say what he meant? Was he making it hard on purpose, using his charm and sweet tones to force her to remain in danger? Or did he just not realize how threatening it made him seem? Shifting the information in order of importance, in order of what she definitely understood, caused her eyes to widen. The forest... changed? Of course, she had seen it shift slightly, when the leaves fell down at certain times of years, when old trees creaked their way down to make room for new saplings to bloom, but... normally an opening or closing in the forest stayed for years, not minutes or hours. She had known this place was different, but she had never suspected just how different. Her tail drooped, her ears flattening as she whinnied softly, "It's worse than underground tunnels then... I never knew the forest could change like that."

Her downed mood shifted into embarassment as the stallion came out further. How could she have ever thought he was Laurein? There wasn't a lick of gold on him, and he had no blooming tree on his back, no light tendrils of foliage in his mane. In fact... if Laurelin had been gifted by the forest with just her small improvements, then the forest must have -really- liked this new Soquili. His coarse coat was bark-like, his mane and tail a collection of flora that she had never seen before. All and all, it was an impressive sight, though it lacked the elegance and kindness that surrounded the other plant Soquili Alyssum had met. She looked to her black hooves and shuffled them slightly, wincing as she accidentally rubbed at her scatch. "I'm sorry about that. Just when I first saw you, you reminded me of someone I know. But you're obviously not her, Mephistopheles, even if you're a forest guardian too."

Silently she disgested the sound of the stallion's name. Mephistopheles. Long, filled with soft, compelling syllabelles, but... well, she couldn't help but apply a hint of malice to it, even if she didn't fully understand why herself. It suited him, no denying that, and she accepted it easily, her musings on it interuppted by the troubling words the stallion added to his explanation. Someone had taken his guardianship? How could they, when the forest obviously claimed the stallion as its own! His words now too matched his tone better, explaining his earlier darkness in a way that made her thigh muscle's tempo lighten. She still did not know if he could be trusted, but... at least an attack was not immediatly forthcoming, and if he was making an effort of friendliness, then how could she do anything else but make an effort too? "I'm not frightened, really. More... jumpy, I guess, because you're right. This place isn't like any forest I've been in before. Though... from the sounds of things, I should've been scared. From now on, I'll have to be more careful."

Alyssum moved forward a step more, hoping to bridge whatever gap still stood between them. The stallion had offered her much information, and she had given him little in return. So, she started with the basics. "I'm Alyssum, Mephistopheles. Thank you for explaining all this to me." She knit her brow together, struggling to come up with something more than just basic, polite conversation. Afterall, he had offered her more, hadn't he? "I don't think its seflish to want someone to talk to, especially in a dangerous place like this. I guess you don't get many vistors. And... at least the forest still hides you away from whoever stole your guardianship away? That must mean it trusts you a lot."  

[Lady_Ourania]

It was unfortunate that he'd been so quick to work his way under her skin, uprooting nerves and hastily patting them back down in an effort to deceive. Finding someone who could act as an informant on the outside was practical. Most who stumbled in were frightened or tight-lipped, but this one seemed almost chirpy, once she made it past the defensive stage. And then there was the matter of a potentially vital piece of knowledge kept wrapped around her tongue, a task that would require mildness if he wanted it extracted whole and coherent. So he needed to work slowly, bring the mare around to his side without jarring her. It was tedious, but the demon had the advantage of practice, even if his first impression had suffered from impatience. He began with a touch of false hope. "Not many do. This one is unequaled, in that sense, more carnivorous than most. But fret not, child, its nature makes it predictable in some ways. Stay close to me, and it will not harm you." A dubious guarantee, considering the trees did not find him as palatable as they once had. That did not mean that he was incapable of protecting one dim-witted mare from being strangled by brambles, however.

There was a detectable change in how she held herself, the bearing to her mouth, a lift in her dappled shoulders. He could read some fear in it, and also curiosity, a child greeting an unseen sight, creating a nightmarish memory. He'd probably featured in countless dark dreamscapes that he was unaware of. "Too?" He caught the end, snapping down with a predatory mind. "Then this Laurelin is also a guardian?" It was possible that his offspring would grow to accept an undertaking that mirrored his, judged unfit for the rest of society. A girl. He had not expected a girl. But he was getting too far ahead of the game, working off assumptions. Steady. The stallion would keep steady and tiptoe around coincidence.

And his entertainment-turned-guest appeared to be more forthcoming as the minutes passed, her nervousness turning into to frank explanations. Amazingly, she dared to draw closer, a maneuver that silently perplexed him, even as he felt a thrill of triumph. Did all little girls like their villains in gentleman's clothing? She seemed to want to believe him, which was of greater importance than his credibility. "Walk with me, Alyssum." He suggested, his sharp hooves tapping with surprising lightness as he turned, keeping one, vacant eye-gouge on her at all times. "It will soothe you. Standing still makes for a presentable target, even to ancient vegetation."

Ah, now the tricky part. Did he fabricate a story, or did he serve her the old one with twisted details? If it was sympathy he was searching for, it might be beneficial to concoct something new. His mother had cursed him because of his beauty. Or would a scorned lover be more fitting? In the end, it was safer to perform surgery on the original tale, lest he stray and run into an unanswerable question. "Truth be told, this forest is the culprit behind my misfortune. It is angry with me-" Which was by no means a lie, for the area was plotting his murder in murmured tones. "And I cannot leave it behind. This shape that you view now is a farce, not a blessing. I was handsome, once, when I was still fully in my guardianship. Perhaps like this Laurelin is now." He stopped, pretending to mull for an instant before continuing on a tangent. "Does she bear a few signs of the forest? That is the most, usually. A leafy wrap, a green-decorated horn, some blooming insignia..." He could not outright ask if she had facial features like his, a grotesque mouth or a hardened section of skin. But he could guess, and he could listen. "I was of fair-hide and bright hair, a colt with an affinity for plants. Now I am this. Personally, I think irony overplayed her hand."  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

Alyssum moved closer to the wood-plated stallion when instruced, uncertain of the meaning of the word 'carnivorous' but fairly certain that it was not a good thing, especially since Mephistopheles linked it to 'harm.' She did not walk as close as she could have, not as though she were sidling up to her father or a close friend, mostly to give them both enough space to avoid tripping in the dark or to give space in case evasion of some threat was required. It was nice of the forest being to offer his protection, but the mare didn't want to get in the way should movement be required.

At his queries, she nodded her head. He seemed to crave conversation, and she had no trouble exhanging information. How else did anyone learn anything, if they weren't willing to teach in turn? Her words as even and definite as her step forward had been, as though she were unconciously trying to meet his elevated speech patterns with a show of plain strength, "Well... maybe that's not quite right. She lives in the forest and speaks with the trees, and she lives with them like a guardian, in my opinion. I don't if you asked her if she'd say that was her title, but... I wouldn't know what else to call her."

When Mephistopheles turned away, for a split second Alyssum thought she had said something to offend him. But... no, he simply wanted to walk, a form of defense against this forest that she still didn't understand. In a way, however, walking proved more difficult than her than standing still had been. The stallion belonged here, fit in here, his motion the only thing that set him apart from the warped vegetation around her. A slight frown crossed her face at his words, as she tried to understand. The forest that had been stolen from him... was angry at him? It didn't seem fair to be punished for something beyond your control but... perhaps his forest was overly demanding. Cruel, especially since he hated this form but remained to half-guard it. A shiver went through her as her leg brushed a vine, and she huffed out a breath. She had never thought she would meet a forest, a plant, that she did not love. Apparently, she had been very, very wrong.

The darker thoughts were banished by further questions of Laurelin, and once more she did her best to convey a true image, "Laurelin is very pretty. Her coat's gold, and her mane and tail are... um... like honey if it were slightly lighter colored. She carries a fruit tree on her back, but I don't know what kind because I've never asked to eat the fruit. I thought that'd be rude." Alyssum stopped speaking then, frowning slightly. No, that last bit was getting too far from the point and didn't tell him anything. She curbed her speech, returning once more to pure description, "The wood wraps around one of her legs and hooves, although not the other three, and she has pretty branches on her head."  

[Lady_Ourania]

The mare came nearer, and he could make out her darting eyes, carefully measuring the distance between them to avoid setting a foot closer than necessary. The ex-guardian was unperturbed, accepting that she was well within range if he found her answers somehow unsatisfactory. That he had attracted her almost effortlessly in spite of his initial performance fell just short of achieving glowing marks in his mind. Even young creatures had more self-preservation instinct than the cream-haired filly that now accompanied him. An element of luck was involved in this particular meeting, and he gave credit where it was due. Still, she wasn't without resources to fall back on. If she wanted to feed him the information he sought piecemeal, there was little to do but burn the tallow of his patience lower. Or torture, but that grew tiresome, and details tended to become blurred through the blood and the tears.

The imperfect darkness left bars of purple on his rough hide as he moved between giant shapes, musing over her reply. A tree-speaker, much like himself, and a modesty she must have inherited from her mother's side of the family. Another point to add to the tally, one that was steadily growing in favor of his desires. But then what? Even if he identified her through description alone, where did that leave him? Closer than he had been when he'd assumed she'd perished, but still trapped. It required treading deeper into the valley of lies if he planned to bring her 'home.'

He smirked to himself, listening to his ignorant snitch and realizing how uncomplicated it could be. Helpful, helpful Alyssum, allowing him to lead, filling his ear with whatever tune he wanted to hear. The only thing that threw him was mention of aesthetics. Gold and pretty, like a ray of sunshine beaming forth to sear a hole in his ambitions. He was certain Tempest's portable meat-mare had been a more neutral color, a duller metal than the aztec staple. Still, he couldn't be positive, never having viewed her directly. Mention of wood-twined limbs and a living tree on her back calmed him again, even if such features were not disfiguring enough to be convincing. At the same time, if she had stolen more from her mother, that fulfilled his last condition. Laurelin, the golden, beautiful mare, had blood pumping through her veins, not sap or sawdust. If she were to collapse in his woods, it would mean his freedom.

The key component from here to there was the bubbly creature at his side. "I hesitate to tell you this, when we have known each other for such a short time. And I have no proof beyond what I feel." He glanced to her, watching for signs to press or withdraw. "Yet who else would I tell? The trees do not care for my misery; instead, they seek to worsen it. And you are the first I have met who has been willing to look past my visage and engage in conversation.

"I had a child, once, with a mare whom I held in high regard." If only for her convenience and ability to bleed. The demon paused to rest against a tree, as if wearied by his emotional load, the baring of it. "She vanished before the babe was due. I thought she had been harmed by the jealous woods, so I scoured the area for her, turned over every stone, looked into every trap. But my curse prevented me from leaving it behind to search elsewhere..."

He closed his eyes as well as he was able, thin slits still prominent on his face. "I never knew what became of them, whether my offspring made it into the world, if they resembled me... if they would recognize me, should they seek me out." He turned to her, pulling himself up in display of courage. "But how many others have you known who could speak to trees as we do? Who among the many you've undoubtedly met had sylvan blessings tied into their very essence? When you mistook me for another, I did not understand, but now I think..." He shook his head sadly, an old monster with a good heart and no one to warm it. "Am I wrong to hope that I have a daughter, Alyssum?"  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

Still keeping her gaze on her own tracks, Alyssum was not much inclined to conversation, beyond providing the information that she felt she somehow owed Mephistopheles. Despite her guide, she did not like this place... and the thought hurt her more than she would ever admit.

Her ears curved forward to catch the beginning of new silverspun words. A story! The dappled mare always loved to hear them, to try and learn more about the people and things around her. This one, however, seemed to be a tragedy. Mother and foal presumed lost, mate and father trapped in this parody of her normally protective home. And now... hope, due to a few descriptions that linked up. She didn't pretend to understand what every word that fell from the wooden stallion's mouth meant, but she could read body language well enough.

"No, it's not wrong to hope at all!" Alyssum assured Mephistopheles when he'd finished, and her tail flicked about in excitement. She could lead him to Laurelin and then, when the two looked on each other, surely they would know whether they shared blood. Her enthusiasm dampened when she looked around her though. How could she ask her forest friend to come into a place like this, somewhere that initially looked like a group of trees like any other until one was inside it? What if she brought the other mare here and the wicked trees harmed her? What if Laurelin couldn't get out? All of these worries reflected in her voice as she responded with an uncharacteristic hesitation, "But... even if she was your family, you couldn't go to her. She'd have to come here. Right?"  

[Lady_Ourania]

He had her. The demon had her, a name printed on the bottom of a contract written up on every leaf in view. She fell for his tale, vaguely accurate as it was, even with the added thickness of false pretense. For a second, he'd actually been concerned about coming off as too sensational with his story and his exaggerated gestures, but her reaction implied that he had selected a prime target. Age was to blame again, or breeding, at the very least. Who would believe such a version of events without even stopping to point out the tacked-on quality of his details? It suited Mephistopheles' purposes in such an easy manner that the stallion was inclined to feel suspicious. But he maintained his burdened posture, his bruised soul temperament, all the while watching her for signs of dawning realization. If she didn't trip over the denying wires set up all around them, he was not about to place one directly in front of her.

And there it was, the first hiccup. She had apparently forgotten his limitations, even though he had phrased them clearly from the start so as not to tread past them again. "Yes. I'm afraid you are correct in that regard. I can no more leave here than I could turn flesh and blood again based on whim." He shook his head, starting to move on even as he caught sight of her looking around, her expression dismal. So it wasn't him that she doubted, it was their surroundings. He might have laughed, but it would have ruined the play. "However, she would be free to cross into any domain, if she has no guardianship to weigh on her shoulders. And if she is all that you say, then she would hear any plot made before it was enacted. No tree here would do her harm." Ever. That would be his task. Already, he took for granted that it would be true. The leaves would go red before autumn's time.

There was a much-filtered bend of light up ahead, one that he had avoided while persuading information from her. It was an exit, available for as long as it chose to be, and he would lead her to it only when he felt the matter was settled. "So what say you, Alyssum? I detest asking, but I have no other option to take." He did hate to ask, relying on this flighty creature for a precious prize, the last bitter dredges of a drink served before salvation. "Would you perform such a momentous favor, as to bring this Laurelin here?"  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

She didn't like it. Alyssum held her tongue as she brought her eyes to focus on the edge of her nose, a clear sign that she was trying to concentrate. How could she bring Laurelin here, to this dark place? But, by the same token, how could she deny Mephistopheles the one chance to know if his child lived or not? Maybe the stallion was right; maybe the trees wouldn't harm someone obviously plant-blessed. Then again... what if they went after her all the more because she happened to resemble the one they hated, the one that stood before her and implored her to at least try.

It should feel just like traveling to the cave to save Chimalsi, but it didn't. As much as she believed Mephistopheles's story, she still did not want to bring her friend to this place. Perhaps because, beneath the earth, she had still been able to find her way out. The golden stallion had left a path that anyone could follow, and so she had. Laurelin had been, more or less, safe. But... here...

Another glance to the wooden stallion chased away her doubts. He hated to ask.. to see if he had family. How would she feel, never to know Momma or Daddy, Bramble or Nettle? Finally, with a bob of her head, she agreed, "I'll do my best to bring her here. I promise."  

[Lady_Ourania]

The deliberating went on and the stallion was forced to wait it out, feeling more impatient things skitter inside him, separate, minuscule lives that slipped in through gaps he could not guard against. She might inevitably catch on, change her mind before she promised on her weak mare's heart to do as he requested. It was hard to say, and her near cross-eyed state gave him no insight into her process. If she suddenly refused to act on his behalf, another course would need to be taken. He resented the very idea of being foiled, and was not about to accept it when the answer stared him straight in the face, sneering at his inability. The seedlings on his back stretched like overgrown quills in the hush, willing her to decide faster, take the only option that meant leaving her organs working comfortably in the spaces where they belonged. Second chances were overrated; one was enough to tell by.

Then she looked to him, and he could feel her weighing everything: his overwrought story, the way he held himself now, possibly too proud in spite of the half-life he led. It was just as well that his mask was an indelible part of him, and unlikely to slip and let the compelling ugliness surge forward and pick their bones - even his make-believe versions - clean. Mephistopheles did not bother with a reassuring expression, knowing it to be beyond him to try. When she nodded, he felt a line of tension ease through him, lining up his spine and making the tiny trees shudder back to their original positions. The words that followed seemed unnecessary, but they made the binding feel complete, and he sensed their surroundings going still in reply. Did his prison know his chances had suddenly risen above a pitiful nothing?

There was a smile in his voice when he spoke, climbing up along the newly erected walls of optimism. "Thank you, Alyssum. I am certain that your efforts will prove worthy when paired with so just a cause." A lie, but stacked atop the rest, it made no real difference at all. She would succeed. She had to. Anything less would be unacceptable. "Come, then. I will see you to an exit and to safety." The light was growing stronger ahead, chipping into the darkness with a purpose, as if eager to reclaim the child it had lost to his domain. It could have her, for now.  

[Quicksilver the Archangel]

She followed Mephistopheles gratefully - not only because he was helping her find the way out but because that long, tense moment had passed. If it had been hard for her, it certainly must have been hard on the stallion as well. To be strung between hope and despair, waiting for her promise... but those thoughts were pushed aside as they neared the light, a sword piercing through the thick overgrowth to champion her return home. It did not take her long to slide into that bright, welcoming beacon.

Her tail flicked excitedly as she felt the sun kiss her hide, and part of her wanted to run, skip, jump in it. She felt like a colt just let out of the basket, a dark, cramped place to a world of open light. But she reigned in her desires, not only because of the wooden stallion that remained behind her, but because of two ominious physical signs. One was the scrape she had recieved while in the forest, the blood dry and scabbing over the wound doing nothing to take away the small pain that circulating air brought. The second was that muscle in her thigh... which, until now, she had not noticed had never stopped twitching, not even after all the time walking and talking with Mephistopheles. It had grown slower, less frequent... but it had never stopped.

A frown crossed Alyssum's face as she began trudging back to the part of the forest she called home. Doubt was not something she felt frequently... but in this case, what other word could she use for the feeling of her chest tightening, her thigh continuing to twich even as she set out for home? Hopefully she had made the right decision...