#commander verse

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On a surprisingly warm day, Midnight decided that she would take a little stroll throughout the forest she resided in. It had been a long while since she had done so, and never had she wondered this far away from the heart of the woods. Well, except for one particular time. She reflected a lot on that one time she met with the human around her age. She really did enjoy it, and despite her people’s fear, The Satyrian was more than happy to show him around. It felt...nice, to talk to the other. She was older now, around 19, and much more aware of the danger she could have put her people in just by showing him around.

Since then, The Satyrian had yet to see him once more. Maybe he was busy? Or perhaps his family moved out of town? Or the supernatural--!

She’d...rather not dwell on the last bit. 

It’s been little over a year now since Satyrians once more gave peace to all of Earth. And today? It marks the very day Xivi, or rather her predecessors, were defeated in the name of light and peace. And that calls for a celebration.

From all around, Satyrians came around to the old greenhouse base in the dead of night for the occasion. Midnight was actually away to get something for the occasion, and too come back to the base was rather exciting! She raced down the hills into the forest brush, running with a white plastic bag in her arms. Turns out she made another “purchase” at Target for the occasion.

@silverboop

Midnight sat in her room aboard the ship she and Anika owned, her tears kept in her eyes but still threatened to fall. Ever since she left Earth to be with Anika, everything was blissful. They even had a son, Silvanus. They also had a daughter, Malforta.

Lute stands there silently as Vox introduces himself, the only thing that gave any indication of her expression being that of the mask she wore upon her face, the glowing visor showing an almost impassive frown, eerie white eyes and strangely stitch-like mouth giving away nothing but a faint reflection of the man’s own blue screen in the darkness of the helmet. Her arms were crossed behind her, one of them notably not of flesh, but a metal prosthesis, golden in hue, and clearly very advanced, while her wings were folded upon her back, the faint shine of her halo floating above her head making her status as an angel quite obvious. Anyone who saw her would know what she was in an instant.

“…Vox. I see.” Her voice is low, measured, and almost flat, speaking his name as if she was carefully weighing it on her tongue. “You would be correct in I have little idea of what you do. We exorcists typically do not bother ourselves with any notions of prestige or power regarding that of sinners, as any as notable as your ilk fell to us in the past the same as all others. However. As I’m sure you know, this has changed, and now I find it to be of considerable importance to know the difference between simple sinner, and those considered of a more prominent station among their numbers.”

She drops her arm to her side, metal talons slowly clenching into a fist, her stare from within her glowing mask slowly beginning to posses the edge like that of a glinting knife, both firm, unrelenting, and held at the throat in warning.