It was true that most days Sacre was happy, genuinely happy, it wasn't a facade to trick the masses, why should he lie anyway? Yet, sometimes, when he thought about stuff—it all got to him. His mum, his sister, his father, his twin brother, yet what was really bothering him the most these days was anger and how to control it. It lead him to think about his father, his mind and the madness that infected it, so often Sacre wondered if there would come a day when he would be like d'Artagnan. If he let what annoyed him the most run away with him, if he let the small part of him that hated the world for the deaths of his dam and his sister, would he become a monster just like his father?
If this was true, did that mean that once upon a time, many nightmares ago, his father had been... like him? Carefree... Happy. For some reason the thought made him sad, regretfully sad, that he may never have gotten chance to meet a less haunted d'Artagnan. Instead, his father's image was marred by the sins against life he had committed under the influence of his prejudices.
Sighing, Sacre came to a halt next to a cluster of nude trees, shifting his precious cargo of foxes that were sat in the grove of his back, snoozing. At least sleep kept the two beloved creatures away from listening to the troubling thoughts in the fox-boy's mind.
In boredom and for something to do, he began to scratch his neck on an innocent tree, enjoying its rough texture against his fur.
and decided to create a dream come true
for @Tiamat <3
There's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this
❚ Force permitted!
❚ Please tag me!