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03-17-2014, 10:25 AM
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The eerily skeletal mare and her disconcerting sidekick earned Moniz’s attention, if not her respect – that was not a prize she handed over so easily. But Confutatis’ apparent appreciation for a bit of pluck was admirable, and Moniz looked her over again with less disparagement. It was as though the pony was a conoisseur of some obscure acquired taste who had stumbled upon another unignorant mind in some unexpected dark alley. Only instead of fine wines and expensive caviar, the intoxicant they admired was an unquestioned god-given right to power and the refusal to accept their role as creatures of prey. Let the lambs bleat meekly in their unthinking flocks; these lions and wolves have chosen a different destiny for themselves. Moniz had indeed noticed a certain cowardice endemic to the Helovian masses in her two short seasons here – cowering underground when the darkness took over. Never mind that she had cowered right along with the rest of them. Logic had little to do with the pony’s high opinion of herself. “It’s a good thing I’m no native to Helovia, then,” she smirked back at the mare with the professed bloodlines of chaos. By birthright, Moniz was not nearly so fortunate. Luckily, both nature and nurture shaped this mare: the ease with which she terrorized her simple broodmare dam (and the delight she felt while doing it) formed a lasting impression. Alas, ego stroking and the setting apart of themselves from the masses could only last so long. The supple lump of newborn flesh wrapped around her hoof could not go unnoticed. Moniz bristled at Confutatis’ revolted intrigue; her irritation was only made worse by the fact that she did not know the answer to the sooty mare’s question. “He is Darco,” the pony snapped in her confusion. I thought he was a dragon but now who the fuck knows? She felt as though she needed some sort of excuse for the odd, wriggly little thing. Hastily, and with a blatant but forced boastfulness, she added, “He only looks odd because he is just a few hours old, but when he was an egg someone told me he was a dragon.” Moniz smiled proudly, trying not to let on that the seed of uncertainty had already established firm roots in these first few hours of the hatchling’s life. |
