The half-child still wanders the island in search of his mother, waiting for his sister to come find him, so that they can announce that they have left the Falls and are relocating to somewhere… more suited to them. Maybe. The pensive child frowns, pondering. Why is it so easy to leave the woman he loves, the woman who has raised him since birth, who has guided him and nurtured him? Why is it so easy for him to walk away? The image of his sister flashes through his mind, followed a much blurrier and abstract image that he presumes to be Erebos- products of his cervid’s steady, quiet mind.

I know, he thinks to the beast, whom he has realized can hear him, but can only respond with feelings and hazy images. Reaching to the side, he touches his nose to the deer’s shoulder, thinking him for the reminder. He must stay with his sister, no matter what pain it causes him to leave his mother. He must stay with her because he has to protect her, and she has to protect him, and because they are twins- two halves of a whole- and without one another they will be broken in this world.

But you are also half of me, the child thinks to the deer. Does that mean I am only a quarter? But he doesn’t mind being a quarter if it means that he gets to spend the rest of his life with Tobias at his side. As he walks towards the setting sun, his path is blocked by one very heavy pegasus that lands before him. Instantly, his mind wanders back to Aurelia and all the others that had been around her and he frowns. All of them pegasi, and he hadn’t liked a single one. But a gentle push from the cerndyr at his side causes him to approach this woman anyway, to challenge the idea he has come to believe to be true- that all pegasi are nothing but trouble.

So slow he approaches, yellow and green eye both trained on the large belly that presses out from the pegasus’ side, and he says the first thing comes to mind- a query, of course. “Why do you want a child?” And though he is young, and clearly much smaller than the woman with wings, he can’t help but have some disdain in his voice- disdain for the child that will be born and ruin his mother’s life, cause everyone pain, and then leave her crying. But there is also apprehension in his voice. He only waits for the pegasus to say something cold or terrible to him. After all, he’s yet to meet one that hasn’t been rude to him.

Adelric

A storyteller makes up things to help other people;
a liar makes up things to help himself.

He looks at the dove of a mare, noticing the two different color orbs that she sees from. He used to think it was a plague- another reason that he was just half a whole- but Ophelia had told him otherwise. Genetics. She had claimed one eye from her father and one from her mother. The half-child had come to find that this was true. His mother’s green and his father’s yellow… one of each was his. It was rather disappointing, honestly, to find this his scientific query had such a bland answer.

Almost as disappointing, the child finds, as the answer he is given. The gentle frown that he wears remains while the angel speaks. Everyone wants a child for a different reason, she claims, and instantly the child is thinking of his mother, of his father he has just met, the father he had placed on a pedestal, the father who told him straight to his face that he raped his mother. The cerndyr balks slightly as his mind is flooded with overwhelming emotion. Adelric does not know whether to be enraged, relieved that he now knows why he makes his mother so sad, or something else.

In the end, he decides on sorrow. What does it even feel like to be born to the perfect family he has imagined for so long? Clearly the brat inside this pegasus will know. The only love he has even known has been as broken as he is.

“And what if your child doesn’t fit into your perfect world?” he asks. Rude? Maybe, but he’s tired of being perfect for everyone, of being quiet and meager and trying to fit in. He has his sister, he has his friend Erebos and he has Tobias. What else does he need? Or maybe he’s just losing his sense of self in this world without a mother to guide him and a father who talked about rape as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Then quieter… softer… he adds something else, as Tobias butts up against his shoulder, the pensive stag reminding the young child to be himself and not some monster that he thinks he has to be to fit in with Zunden and Krieger. “What if he can’t fit in?”


@[Rayo]

Adelric

A storyteller makes up things to help other people;
a liar makes up things to help himself.

A new voice joins the conversation and the half-child turns to see who it is that has interrupted their converse. What he finds is a mare as black as the first mare is white, offering him promises of love and support. He’s not so sure he’ll find this support she speaks of when the time comes for him to face his mother, to tell her what he is doing, but she seems to be confident in her opinions and, interestingly, he finds that he doesn’t like her arrogant assurance. What makes her think that she is right? She knows nothing of him or what he is going through, where he has been or where he is going. But while he doesn’t like her first statement, he thinks her second one is much more interesting, and perhaps even more relevant considering his bond with the cervid. Perhaps you are my strength within, he thinks to the beast.

Sweetling. The sound draws him from his internal dialogue and he looks back to the Transcended. “Adelric,” he murmurs in response to her name, though he isn’t terribly interested in names. He will keep them, store them, if he can, but it matters not to him if he remembers them. He only needs a handful of names- Kiara, Zunden, Erebos, Krieger, Tobias.

But the angel speaks again and this time the half-child shifts uncomfortably, the questions becoming his to answer, the secrets becoming his to share. He is uncomfortable in this position. His worries are not worthy of such consideration. And, even if they were, does he really want to share them? He, who had dreamed of a whole and complete family, actually has a broken and shattered one. He, who had placed his father on a pedestal and dreamed of the great steed, has a monster for a dad. He, who has dedicated to learning the truth about the mysteries of life, is going to tell a lie to his mother. Are these things he wants, or is willing, to share? He doesn’t know and so for a while he stays pensively silent, gaze shifting to the ground.

“I have to hurt my mother in order to make myself happy,” he finally decides, in as cryptic a manner as he can manage. “And I don’t know if someone who was a monster once can be anything else.” With a sidelong glance at the strange waterfalls flowing over the side of the mountain, fed by water from an invisible source, the child adds, “I want to learn so much, but the secrets of the land are hidden so deep.” Yes, perhaps his troubles are mild, but the child is young and they weigh heavy on his growing shoulders.


@[Rayo]

Adelric

A storyteller makes up things to help other people;
a liar makes up things to help himself.

The mind of the young colt does not bother to think how Blythe might be feeling about the lack-luster welcome he has offered her. He is young and, as a child, rather self-absorbed in his own thoughts and worries. But beyond that, by design, he is aloof and distant, unable to be the social butterfly that situations like these require. He does not know how to look at her and smile, encouraging her to come closer, to be friendlier. His mother taught him many things, but none of them were social skills. At least she does not seem to suffer the same severe social ineptitudes that he does.

And here, for the first time as she speaks, the half-child finds himself truly intrigued by the words of those around him. Even Tobias stops his bored gaze around the island to rest his attention on Blythe. Thoughts churn in his young mind, tendrils of thought trying to reach out and wrap themselves around the idea of free will and whether or not a path was laid out for them already. He did not know what he really thought about it and trying to figure it out on his own rapidly was proving more than difficult. In the end, he decides to allow the black mare to sort it out for him, in his own sort of way. “And where would you be if your path had been laid out and set it stone?”

But his thoughts are interrupted by coos from the Transcended and nicknames he’s not sure he is worthy or approving of. Sweet? he queries to Tobias, who grunts softly but has no real explanation for the title. Still, he listens and in the end he nods to her, thanking her for her story and wondering if his own mother will be so understanding. And he thinks she will be, because she is as beautiful and perfect as any mother could be, but it pains him to know that he will still hurt her. And will she be sad like this mare is now when she thinks of him?

Ah, the life is full of emotional turmoil for the half-child, and he is confused about it all, but his previously aloof and disinterested demeanor suddenly changes when the pretty woman mentions an academy. What rapture shows on his face and lights his bi-hued eyes. Think of it, Tobias, he demands, and the cervid sends him a series of unintelligible images in response, but the general emotion in the bond is as much excitement as Adelric himself feels. “An academy… What do you study?” His voice is brighter than they have heard thus far, and his gaze bounces contentedly now between the two mares. Oh, just think what Zunden will think!


@[Rayo]

Adelric

A storyteller makes up things to help other people;
a liar makes up things to help himself.

The half-child dutifully listens as Blythe responds to his rather rude demand of her; if he is rude, at least he offers his attentions to those he has demanded information of. Pondering what sort of history could have left her enslaved or dead, the half-child then tries to imagine his own future. Where will he be; what choices will his decisions lead him to? Capture and enslavement, torture and death, education and learning? There are many options laid out before him, many ways he can go… The ideas finally bring a smile to his previously bland face. He can be happy, it just takes some encouragement.

As for whether he has seen the open flesh on her cheek or not… it is up for debate, as he has paid little attention to it until the Transcended mentions it now. Heterochromatic eyes shift to her cheek but his smile does not fade. He has recently found that the moribund and macabre excite and interest him. What does not interest him is the motherly concern that Sohalia is showing. Has the white mare made it her mission in life to be kind to everything? Had he a brow to raise, it certainly would have been.

But in the end, he cannot be annoyed with the pretty woman who has offered him promises of knowledge that he has not yet gained on his own. So instead he turns to her when she has finished speaking and nods his head. “I’ll come,” he says decidedly, thoughts drifting to Zunden. He will have to tell her of what she has learned. She will certainly be interested in education in the arts of war. Absently, the colt bobs his head a few times to each of the women, but his mind is already elsewhere and he has turned to go, Tobias standing to watch the two women for a moment before turning and leaving himself, trailing after his boy in silent stoicism.


@[Rayo]

Adelric

A storyteller makes up things to help other people;
a liar makes up things to help himself.