show me how defenseless you really are.

“She’s icky.”

I hear brother’s voice leak quietly into my ear, a hushed manifestation of the revulsion that we both undoubtedly share, and I toss my head in agreement. It is strange—unnatural—to see a creature such as this one. For the first time in my little life, I begin to grasp at threads of understanding, at comprehending exactly what Ma had been talking about. The others that infest this world—impure, abnormal, and wrong. She must be one of them, I am sure, already having made up my mind and lowering her to a status below our own (well, lower).

I narrow my eyes when the strange creature laughs at us, wondering what on earth had been so funny. At my side, I can feel brother bristle through the air between us, his anger fueling my own with a wrath I don’t know how to control (and why would I want to?). I am the fire to brother’s smoldering embers, and I blaze freely. “It wasn’t a joke,” I huff impatiently, emphasizing my point with a mighty stomp of my hoof. Of course, I am nothing but a little girl throwing a tantrum, but I certainly don’t see it that way. I am bold, indignant, and daring!

However, like most temperamental things, I am distracted easily.

“They’re wings.”

My eyes widen when the thing extends her tumors—wings—wide out, my muscles flinching instinctively away from their size. I tilt my ears back, dark lips pressing into an intent line, while my nose wrinkles again as I inspect the diseased appendages. “Wings,” I nearly spit to myself, disgusted by the word as it slides over my tongue. Unlike brother, I’m not particularly concerned with the rules of public etiquette or whatever (boring), so while I do not criticize this Areli for her brashness, I wear my own aversion on my sleeve. Proudly, I might add.

“Are you sick? ‘Ave you tried to get ‘em removed?” I demand of the Areli (her species dubbed instead of her person, as I have accepted her answer in my own terms). For a short moment, there is a flash of something akin to concern in my eyes. If these wings have infected her, then surely we should remove them, yes? However, worry is quickly replaced again by disgust. If she is sick, I certainly don’t want to catch this disease. The last thing I would want is for some grotesque tumors to be sprouting from my shoulders (then why hasn’t she had them severed yet?).

Tilting my head in contemplation of my thoughts, I flick my fuzzy tail a few times before I turn to brother. My words are meant only for him, but I don’t care enough to lower my voice. “I’ve never seen an Areli before,” it is an obvious fact—if I haven’t, then he hasn’t—but maybe I just have to repeat it to confirm how bizarre this experience is. What a strange world!

It isn’t until I hear brother’s voice again that I look away from the Areli—I had probably been staring quite rudely, so deal with it—my eyes first glancing to him, before following his line of sight to the shiny reptile that is perched on the stallion’s back. “Draagooonn,” I almost croon, my voice broken and my eyes glittering with the first seeds of greed. I had only ever seen one before—the black one, in the shadow of the woods—but this one, it is far more pleasing. “Wha’ is its name?” I shift my gaze to the roaned stallion, little ears slanting forwards and my eyes wide with dark wonder.


notes; sorry for the wait!