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Slip into the ether
Aug. 3rd, 2018 12:18 pmMorpheus. Dumah. Phobetor. No matter what the name, it's the same being.
The Angel of Dreams, of nightmares, of inspiration and imagination.
Destined to be sundered into the rulers of the Fae, at this point, she's still the seraph she was, before the Fall of the Rebel Angels.
Morpheus was not an adversary, but a casualty, split into three to ensure that the world might never be without her influence and inspiration.
Morpheus, in her truest shape, is genderless. They stand at a height of over nine feet, appearing to be a ball jointed doll crafted from sterling silver, their joints made of alabaster. Seven eyes sit in an otherwise featureless face, arranged in a circle, appearing to be made of a blazing, violet light, the entity clothed in shifting, wine and amethyst colored nebula.
No matter what the shape, they always have wings, all six of them brilliant shifting hues of lavender and orchid.
Her human shape is far more tame, of course, one can't go walking about on the face of the planet as a six winged, six armed, seven foot tall silver doll, now can they?
A woman of Eastern European heritage, her thick, curly hair like a cloud around her head, with eyes such a deep shade of brown, they might seem more black than anything else. Her features move easily from hard to soft, both terrifying and demure depending upon the moment. She seems either caught in a dreamy, gentle haze, or as sharp as a knife, never actually cruel.
It's beyond any angel to be willingly cruel.
But lack of cruelty doesn't make her any less uncomfortable to be around.
The Angel of Dreams, of nightmares, of inspiration and imagination.
Destined to be sundered into the rulers of the Fae, at this point, she's still the seraph she was, before the Fall of the Rebel Angels.
Morpheus was not an adversary, but a casualty, split into three to ensure that the world might never be without her influence and inspiration.
Morpheus, in her truest shape, is genderless. They stand at a height of over nine feet, appearing to be a ball jointed doll crafted from sterling silver, their joints made of alabaster. Seven eyes sit in an otherwise featureless face, arranged in a circle, appearing to be made of a blazing, violet light, the entity clothed in shifting, wine and amethyst colored nebula.
No matter what the shape, they always have wings, all six of them brilliant shifting hues of lavender and orchid.
Her human shape is far more tame, of course, one can't go walking about on the face of the planet as a six winged, six armed, seven foot tall silver doll, now can they?
A woman of Eastern European heritage, her thick, curly hair like a cloud around her head, with eyes such a deep shade of brown, they might seem more black than anything else. Her features move easily from hard to soft, both terrifying and demure depending upon the moment. She seems either caught in a dreamy, gentle haze, or as sharp as a knife, never actually cruel.
It's beyond any angel to be willingly cruel.
But lack of cruelty doesn't make her any less uncomfortable to be around.
