(Untitled)

[i_hate_alistair]

WHO: Morrigan and OPEN
WHERE: Morrigan's campsite in the deepest, darkest, scariest part of... the park.
WHEN: Thursday evening
WARNINGS: Morrigan is a bitch.
SUMMARY: Morrigan causes havoc in the park, and then retreats to her humble campsite. Feel free to see her act of villainy and come annoy her!
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever you want

Comments

[pandablade]

He was not used to seeing so much magic in what he considered "his" territory. Ever since he wiped the scourge from this area, and make no mistake, he had eradicated them. It had not been the she-demon in the machine. It had been him!

But now there was something else. And he was watching it from his own perch in his castle. Until the being settled down for a time. It was then that he decided to grace her with his presence. He would not chase her, but instead he would approach her.

And so he did. When he made his way there, it was full dark, but he was illuminated enough to be seen coming from a distance. One could not mistake the green that lit the earth in his wake, or the eyes that cut through the darkness with a luminescent glow. Nor were the tattoos on his skin exactly covert, and yet this didn't bother him. He simply walked, and watched for any sign of the prick of magic moving. That would be a sign of cowardice, of course, and one he could likely exploit.

[i_hate_alistair]

She watched him with narrowed eyes as she prodded the embers with a stick, exciting the fire and producing a puff of black smoke. If his physical characteristics weren't indication enough, she could sense that he had powerful magic. Still, she made no move to attack or escape, instead simply focusing on the fire and her pot of thick, brown soup. Sometimes it was best to wait for the precise moment, if such action was necessary. It was a lesson she'd learned when the Templars had come for her and her mother in the Wilds.

"So. Are you a hero, come to drag me from my tent kicking and screaming?" she said once he was within earshot, feigning disinterest by stirring her soup.

[pandablade]

"A hero?" he questioned, the thought of it touching his lips with a small smirk. "As some of those among here are? No. I am not considered a hero, not in this world."

While he was still several feet away, his voice was distinct. Not yelling, not shouting to get it to her, but clear, and he finally stepped into the range of the small fire, his own footsteps creating small flames with each step.

"You are also not one. Very few of us who posses such magic are."

[i_hate_alistair]

While the appearance may be new, the voice certainly isn't, and she allows a small, sly smile to cross her lips. "Not a hero, indeed. So the demon presents himself."

While she still seemed absorbed in her stew, her movements were controlled and almost cautious. Though he claimed to be different from the abominations of her world, a demon of any sort was nothing to take lightly, and even their words could be used as weapons.

"I would be considered an apostate and a maleficar, worthy of death for the magic that I practice. 'Twould be no different here, I suppose. No, I think the heroic self-righteousness does not befit one such as I overmuch."