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10-17-2013, 10:33 AM
For creatures so young, my brother and I carried with us a breathtaking amount of baggage – illusions of grandeur, and all the shameful despicableness that follows them, were not included. We’d grown up in worlds where we were almost painfully ordinary: no wings or weapons or lovely eye-catching colors, without great wisdom or size to separate us from the crowd. We had only ourselves to work with.
I enjoyed the freedom of mediocrity.
Sasha’s attention seemed torn between the other black stallion (he reminded me in some oblique way of Brishen, and my lips turned up in the barest ghost of a smile at the thought) and the bear (which didn’t really remind me of anything but a bear, strangely). Instinctively I breathed lightly into the muscle of his shoulder as though calming a bristling cat. “He seems friendly enough,” I murmured, glancing toward Ktulu and the bear himself for assurance. It was not that I trusted so easily; one tended to give as good as one got, and I generally preferred to make friends rather than enemies.
The stars of Irrydae’s wings caught my eye; I wondered idly if it was indeed the night sky branded upon them, if I might spy some of my own stars in the covert feathers, and almost as quickly became self-conscious at the thought. As always, I buried the errant wanderings of my thoughts in philosophy.
“Anything?” I echoed curiously. From any other mouth it might have been a challenge – from Sasha’s, certainly. We were not, as it turned out, identical in every way.
“What do you honestly think is the absolute worst thing about your home?”
If I could stomach the worst, I figured, we could adjust to just about anything else. We always had before.
Turning toward Skywalker and Ktulu with childlike interest in the tilt of my head, I added, “Where do you live?” I knew nothing. We knew nothing. My brother would follow wherever I led, perhaps, but I knew enough to know that whatever decision I made would be little more than a leap of faith into a murky abyss. Hopefully we would find fluffy mattresses at the bottom.
There might just be broken glass.
I enjoyed the freedom of mediocrity.
Sasha’s attention seemed torn between the other black stallion (he reminded me in some oblique way of Brishen, and my lips turned up in the barest ghost of a smile at the thought) and the bear (which didn’t really remind me of anything but a bear, strangely). Instinctively I breathed lightly into the muscle of his shoulder as though calming a bristling cat. “He seems friendly enough,” I murmured, glancing toward Ktulu and the bear himself for assurance. It was not that I trusted so easily; one tended to give as good as one got, and I generally preferred to make friends rather than enemies.
The stars of Irrydae’s wings caught my eye; I wondered idly if it was indeed the night sky branded upon them, if I might spy some of my own stars in the covert feathers, and almost as quickly became self-conscious at the thought. As always, I buried the errant wanderings of my thoughts in philosophy.
“Anything?” I echoed curiously. From any other mouth it might have been a challenge – from Sasha’s, certainly. We were not, as it turned out, identical in every way.
“What do you honestly think is the absolute worst thing about your home?”
If I could stomach the worst, I figured, we could adjust to just about anything else. We always had before.
Turning toward Skywalker and Ktulu with childlike interest in the tilt of my head, I added, “Where do you live?” I knew nothing. We knew nothing. My brother would follow wherever I led, perhaps, but I knew enough to know that whatever decision I made would be little more than a leap of faith into a murky abyss. Hopefully we would find fluffy mattresses at the bottom.
There might just be broken glass.
