I can give you freedom from your guilt with a flick of my wrist
Nephele does not often go to the Grounds now that it has become a haven for the Ascended and their ilk. For all Isla had been taken in by her lies, she is not the type to tempt fate. Still, despite the new crown she wears, Nephele is a botanist at heart - and certain ingredients, especially the nefarious ones, can only be found in the Oasis’ stubborn greenery.
She is already there when another approaches, and the sound of careless feet against soil sharpens her senses. All those outside the Greatwood seem to tread harsher than she can bear. It takes a mere moment to cloak herself in Ludo’s Rags, concealing her wings and memorable hair, leaving only bright eyes as she tucks the fabric behind her ear to leave her hands free. Her chakrams seem to burn around her elbows, itching to be used after so long without.
Turning to see a young Ascended - or at least outwardly young, the beasts do not age - Nephele calls upon her illusion magic to make her eyes seem as if they are blue instead. He doesn’t seem to notice her at first and she cannot blame him considering she is crouched in the shadow of the nearby tree, but instead of leaving well enough alone Nephele straightens and moves closer. “What are you doing?” It’s a breath shy of accusation, illusion deepening her voice into something more masculine. The hold on her concealed eyes wavers, magic not capable of such a stretch, but it’s enough for now. She appears as a diminutive man, but Ludo’s Rags are a terrifying pitch black, a shroud of avenging darkness.
She is already there when another approaches, and the sound of careless feet against soil sharpens her senses. All those outside the Greatwood seem to tread harsher than she can bear. It takes a mere moment to cloak herself in Ludo’s Rags, concealing her wings and memorable hair, leaving only bright eyes as she tucks the fabric behind her ear to leave her hands free. Her chakrams seem to burn around her elbows, itching to be used after so long without.
Turning to see a young Ascended - or at least outwardly young, the beasts do not age - Nephele calls upon her illusion magic to make her eyes seem as if they are blue instead. He doesn’t seem to notice her at first and she cannot blame him considering she is crouched in the shadow of the nearby tree, but instead of leaving well enough alone Nephele straightens and moves closer. “What are you doing?” It’s a breath shy of accusation, illusion deepening her voice into something more masculine. The hold on her concealed eyes wavers, magic not capable of such a stretch, but it’s enough for now. She appears as a diminutive man, but Ludo’s Rags are a terrifying pitch black, a shroud of avenging darkness.
I can give you death with the look upon my face
