Fairspell Meadow lucifer bleeds ichor

moonchased and balefully visible: a slim-hipped vision to slake the melancholy that had too long echoed in merrick’s heart. a voice, and though the boy did not yet see fear writ into the narrow ivoried features, the night was still young. time enough for that.
”hello,” he purled in response, though made no effort to unveil himself before those odd, searching eyes. snow and sorbet; a treat to be devoured, and slowly.
merrick would save the gaze for last.
”do you know where you are?” he hissed suddenly, voice sibilant against the backdrop of aching earth and groaning trees.