A little afternoon stroll to clear the mind. Mephistopheles wanted to explore if only to get a lay of the land. He didn't want any surprises and it would give him a good view of the locals. He had to know just who lived here be they friend or foe. Meandering through he heads west, what lies beyond the lands he could see dotted with death and pestilence. It had been long since he properly enjoyed himself. Mephistopheles had been so focused on following the odour he hadn't allowed himself to partake in debauchery or any other pleasurable vices he keeps. He salivates at the thought, however, he wasn't out here to squeeze throats so fair yet. That would come considerably later. First, he must get a grasp for the terrain. No point in causing mayhem when you had nowhere to retreat to.

A devil but not a fool. Showing his true face would do him no good. For now, he shall play the recently escaped slave. A jumpy, anxious but well-meaning fellow called Amalric. A facade to conceal the evil inside. Reaching the gorge he peers over the edge. It's elevated but there is a river. If he fancies the trek down. Mephistopheles is not thirsty but poor Amalric is dehydrated and dying. Feigning a limp he hobbles keeping his back left leg up as he scales down the gorge. Amalric will get his water and Mephistopheles will get his alibi.

give a smile to the patient

The dust coated lioness scuttled across the sand like a desert beetle. Her paws tapped along the ground for mere seconds before they were whisked back into the air in her long bounds along the sandy terrain. Her laboured huffs came from the corners of her propped maw, her jaws digging into the hardened exterior of her day's prize and keeping it firmly in her mouth. It was an exciting find, this elusive desert fruit, but it was well worth it. If she can just keep it safe with her on her travels, it may come of good use in the future. 

The sun was already beginning to creep upon its highest peak, and with it came an even stronger heat than was already present. Luckily for the young rogue, she was growing used to the warmth that saturated her deeply colored saddle. But even she knew her limits. She had come a long way, each trip around the desert seemingly taking longer and longer to find anything substantial. She was easily learning the layout, sure, but it was what she wanted from the land rather than the land itself that she sought.

She knew by the sound of gentle lappings over the shifting sands beneath her paws that she was rapidly approaching a water source. Perfect. It sounded to be just over the dune ahead of her now, and she leapt up its short height. She slid to a halt at the crest, sand becoming further displaced into small mounds encasing her paws. The river just ahead shimmered with captured rays of sun, and was painted with a surrounding tint of green from more plant life flourishing around the earth's ichor.

What stopped her from heading straight to the river's edge was a silhouette adjacent from herself. A dark figure, likely a lion from the shape, presumably injured from the way it moved, teetered just out of the corner of her eye. She was presented with a choice. Her jaws subconsciously tightened their grip upon her baobab fruit. This fruit was hard enough to find, and yet… 

With a resigned huff of her nose, she slid herself down the dune and carefully began her approach, not to the water as planned, but towards her fellow lion. She planned to keep a healthy distance just in case, her steps carefully placed as she began to close the gap between herself and the stranger before her. Curious with a healthy dose of wary as she came upon what she now realized to be a mane. She knew all too well how bullheaded they could be.

How scary they could be.

@Mephistopheles

 you know the connotation

Table by Werge | stock image

The fragrance of fertility hits him. A young female. Mephistopheles internally grins. Still, he limps down the rocks quicker now. Personally, he did not mind and was rather interested but the character he is playing did mind. A performer at heart he is even if he rarely speaks. Talking does not spark joy. The devil had learnt quickly what happened when you showed emotion. His father propelled them to extremes. What's worse is Mephistopheles was not born from his father's wife, no he was born a bastard. Growing up he had no one to balance out his father's strict cruelty. Now Mephistopheles stands before you an in denial broken mess continuing the cycle of his predecessors. He is his father's son. Just as he was treated with such brutality he will treat the world the same.


He manages to make it down into the chasm below. The red reminds him of somewhere long forgotten and left in ruin. A place of fire and brimstone underneath harsh claw. Multiple memories resurface as they taunt him so. It is bittersweet. There were little flashes of light during that time. Small pieces he cherishes but these morsels were no match for the reality. Mephistopheles hesitates. Body tense as though he is expecting something. Turning around he glimpses his pursuer. Such a small pretty thing. He freezes, claws out gripping the ground in sheer terror. He is an actor and this is his performance. If he could pale he would. He is being followed! If she has pursued him what about his owners!? He begins to visibly shake. No. No! He cannot be dragged back there. He will not allow it. Every scar on Mephistopheles shall tell the story of Amalric. He need not talk when actions shall do it for him.

@Snake

give a smile to the patient

The moment the lame lion turned his attention to her, she too froze in place. An instinctual flinch at the sudden motion, then a stupified concern as the other began to quake. It was very rare for her to see a mane in such a state. She’d only seen such a reaction a pawful of times, most often when there were copious amounts of blood involved (a thought that made Snake dizzy enough on its own.) But alas, this shadowy creature rattled in place at the sight of her. That sight was a first, undoubtedly. She could see the sheen of claws unsheathing against the reflection of the sun, a sign to proceed with extreme caution. The serpent could only hope to convey that she of all beasts meant no harm. She couldn’t even hurt a fly, even if the faint thought to do so pushed to the forefront of her mind. No, especially not a male like him, regardless of how weak he appeared before her.

Snake lowered her head and ears submissively and took a step back, her knitted brows watching sadly as her tail tucked between her hind legs. She tilted her head from side to side, attempting to assess the darker lion from the distance between them. Unfortunately she couldn’t see much from her angle, what with the shade of his fur and the high sun casting shadows downward. Snake slowly perked her ears, her eyes widening and brows relaxing a bit into what she could only hope would come off as a pacifistic expression. If she was to see any sort of potential injury, she needed to get closer. Snake took a step forward once again. Her ears flapped slowly, a motion that was meant to placate her flighty, potential patient.

@Mephistopheles

you know the connotation

Table by Werge | stock image