Autumn's Wanderings Pt. 1

This is just a post about a roleplaying character of mine named Mezzaluna. She's one of the Fallen from a Council. Perhaps if this story hits off well with users on here. I'll post more of this literature. Anyways, this short series is about a Fallen A

+Tricolored hues glanced momentarily at the destination ahead. A homely place it would seem that had caught her wavering attention. Something about this hovel of an establishment. A faint glimmer on the windows, perhaps. Or even the company keeping it. Never the less, this was finding herself motioned forwards with the breeze that not only lifted her feet but the leaves that were ever falling as well. The season matched her mood. Fading in a melancholy not easily pulled out of. Cold like the air sweeping in that would soon become chill. Even more, soon to become Winter. This thought brought on a myriad of thoughts, all shifting to the source of why she'd come here in the first place. Oh, the thought bringing on a crease to her brow. She'd come due to the break needed away from the Other Realm.

World of Dreaming Dead. A trap door of sorts, keeping its inhabitants as if they too were prisoners. Longing to feel the chains of bondage away from their souls, their beings. She too, had slipped into the trap of sleeping while in the Foreign land. Having been asleep for two or more weeks at which she'd been found in such a way by her beloved. The other woman having betrayed her own Queen to aide the mutual love, Mezzaluna. Angel of the High Council..No more. That had ended tragically with the murder of her mortal husband. Oh such woe had she known from this until having met Her. But the taint showed in the confines of her illustrious wings. The amber feathers having been dipped in his blood by Azrael himself. And though she knew not, Azrael had not been the driving force for this action. It had been the Council members themselves who'd ordered Sammuel's demise.

Azrael had been but the tool, for he had always been the Death Angel. Just as she had once been their Tool. No longer. Since they'd caused her fall for loving a man of thinner pedigree. A simple man, he'd been. How she'd wept at this profound loss. Now she was just as cold as the Autumn weather, shedding not a tear but turning her face from the sight of Lovers caressing, clinging to all they have. Each other. It turned her stomach, caused her to be ill. And still, she found herself stepping forward to lay her hand upon the entrance to this homely place that turned out to be a shoppe. A shoppe for wares of all types. Wrapping the coldness about her frame, she pushes through to the warmth lingering there.

To those whose eyes turned up at her entrance, they saw her not for what she was but for what she used as a facade. A simple female garbed simply thus. Auburn tresses fell freely about her shoulders in soft waves, glinting in the rays of the sun with threads of copper and mahogany. Simple eyes, shaded a dark amber in hue. Those simple garbs were linen, lined on the inside with cotton, dyed a pale grey. Full skirt, flared. Loosely fitting top, short sleeved. A shawl covered her shoulders, hand knit, a color of white that was softer. Well worn, just as she felt on the inside. The first visage to catch her eye was a wizened old face, beady eyes of the brightest blue, wisps of oh-so white hair framed that face. Delicate, but..stern. This brought on a smile from Mezza.

It was not often that she was struck with this sense of..Home. Warmth, Kindness, Welcoming. A smile replied to her, inviting her in as she closed the door herself. Words were not needed to be exchanged, as one would find that Mezzaluna was rather quiet. Timid, even. But intelligence burned in those dark amber hues, matched by those of the Shoppe Keeper who led Mezza through the shoppe to a side room for regular visitors to sit a while. To ease themselves into this homely comfort, to peel away their worries and relax with a hot cup of tea. Just that was brought to her as she sank into an oversize armchair. Also well worn with an afghan thrown over it, dyed a dark navy color. This was perfection. It could do no more to ease her mind, to tame the worry that did laden her soul.

The little woman brought a steaming mug to her, placed it right in Mezza's cold hands. Giving each other kind smiles, the woman left to tend to her shoppe once more while Mezzaluna sat peacefully in that Sun room. Hands cradling the mug, eyes lost focus as she fell into thoughts of happier times. Laughter had been a big part of her life...That is where her thoughts were running to. To those happy times, those elated times..+

[To be Continued.]