572 Kiri might need to slap me on this post because I assume things about her character. 8D
Myrika is by me!
Upon first stirring, Myrika noticed the world was still deeply gray. There was a faintly bluish light, and she guessed the time to be pre-dawn. The shuffling figure -- her shuffling somewhat better now, but not fully healed as of yet -- had woken her up, but Myri was able to drift back off again for at least a little while. When she rose again, her sister was asleep, and the world was still gray, but with a twingle of golden-yellow, too. The fog was such that, lifting a leather flap over one of the windows, she could not even see the corral and stables.
Leaving the village after seeing to her horses and herself (in that order), she took only a bandanna, which she shoved over her head rather rudely. An ear bent awkwardly, and refused to unfurl despite several strong flicks. She reached up and unbent the ear with a faintly pained look. The act itself was not painful, but anytime she thought of her ears she was bound to think of taunting and funny names. Strange to think they were all dust and bones now.
The crisp bite of the air made her regret her choice of only this bandanna. Now would be a good time to begin wearing the silly skirts she'd spent so much time stitching, but the tawny-hued hybrid did not like doing so except when she figured she'd be alone. It was her purpose today to make herself known -- she had spent a fair amount of time within the village, acting as if she was quarantined with sickness. It wasn't sickness she was quarantined with, but sister -- and by choice, too.
The sharp pinprick of guilt -- perhaps duty or responsibility whispering in Ezekiel's voice at the back of her mind -- drove her out of the village early, but she hadn't quite decided where to go as of yet. The caves were one place, but doubtless she'd end up going to see Vesper or Ithiel. Others needed to see her, too, and remember they still had a leader. It was to the mansion, then, though not without lingering long enough for the light to become far stronger.
And still the fog clung to the earth, obscuring the mansion until she was almost upon it. Sliding through the rear fencing, the tawny coyote passed the hospital house and then the greenhouse, hesitating by the rear door. In the end, she circled around to the front. In the end, it was as she'd hoped -- Mephisto sat on the porch, gazing toward the forest. Shadow still clung there as night's last vestige, and would perhaps remain until almost noon. Only the hottest part of the day burned off fogs like this, and they returned shortly thereafter anyway. The hybrid smiled, less forced than she had expected.
Hey, Mephisto, she said. The "how are you" was stifled, although with minor effort on her part. Did the sea fog this badly? she asked, recalling some passage or other that had described sea fog. Yeah, the weather's a better subject by far, she thought, wondering briefly if she ought to have gone with the instinctual inquiry as to his current state. She stopped herself from looking down at the ground or wringing her hands awkwardly only by force of will, and instead moved to make herself comfortable beside him on the step.
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