Umbriel was surprised when the stallion laughed at her insult, no matter how thoughtlessly it had left her lips. It was a deep laugh, starting somewhere from inside his belly and echoing out through his lungs and into the dark forest. He must be unafraid of anyone finding him here, like cougars or wolves. It made sense; after all, the huge mechanical dog he had next to him would be sure to protect him from any harm. Although he looks like he could protect himself even without that large beast, Umbriel thought. As if it could read her mind, the mechanical beast in question stepped forward to stand in line with its master, its red eyes boring holes into the empty space ahead of it. Its red eyes sent unpleasant shivers up Umbriel’s spine, though the beast had seemed nothing but harmless thus far. Perhaps it was the unnatural stillness of it that unsettled the mare so. It did not breathe as the two unicorns did, exhaling moist, spent air into the dry summer atmosphere. It did not twitch as the horse’s hide naturally did when flies contacted it, it did not shift its weight from one leg to the other. Not so much as a wag of its wolf like tail could be seen from the dog. However, the strange stallion’s almost violent reaction to what Umbriel naively asked distracted her from her musings about the dog. “It is our birthright, being born with this weapon upon our brow, to dine where and when we wish. We are burdened with glorious purpose. We are ancient. We are wise, and our blood runs in the very earth we stand upon and in the stars in the sky.” Umbriel’s world turned upside down. She’d thought that he’d be angry as she was, filled with rage at the poor treatment of those cursed with the mark of the moon. However, he had obviously not been treated badly, he even seemed to feel superior to those without horns—he’d said their purpose was glorious, after all. She’d noticed the strength of his tone, such a change from the blandness he’d expressed earlier. For the first time she noticed his eyes, blazing with indignation. They were a bronze color, making her think of mines deep within the earth. She found herself getting agitated as well; feeding off the emotions he was exuding. It was only natural, as horses are responsive herd animals first and foremost. The stranger spoke again in the same passionate voice as before. “Eat. Your horn gives you your freedom. It is power that can never be taken from you.” Umbriel’s green eyes wandered upwards as if trying to look at her horn, even if it was impossible without a reflective surface. She’d never thought of her horn as something powerful, something that made her worthy, only as something that brought her strife and confrontation.

“I… don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought of my horn or being a unicorn like that. It’s only brought me ridicule and suffering. You are the first unicorn I’ve seen besides myself and my father, the rest of my herd was hornless.”

Umbriel winced unconsciously around the word “father”. It hurt to say and it hurt that she still thought of him as a father and not as a hypocritical and abusive remnant of her past. She did not want to go into her experiences with the mundanes—that was her pet name for those with no horns—with this relative stranger, but she hoped that he got the message she was trying to send. They beat me, they starved me, they hated me; I’m so angry, and it will never get better. Briel’s ruined body was littered with the evidence of the mundanes’ and her father’s abuse. Even though the scars had mostly healed, her coat had grown in darker where they had once been. She looked toward the dark unicorn before her and noticed that the steed was staring intently at his companion with the same look as it had toward the air in front of it—like servant, like master, she supposed—blank and emotionless, calculating. It was so unlike her own expressions she was fascinated. Umbriel’s eyes were always stewing, swirling pots of rage and anger and hate and hunger. Two kinds of hunger, to be exact—that for revenge and that for food. She felt as if her insides were black and twisted, shriveled and dry with the acidic bitterness housed in her waiflike body. She hated the equines for making her this way, for making her father hate her, for taking every basic pleasure away from her. Happiness was out of Umbriel’s reach, her true worth had been hidden from her, and even the basic right to eat had been taken away. As naïve as she was, she was not innocent to the cruelty of the world. She did not think she had ever been.

ooc: Every time I picture his companion, I immediately see the mechanical hound from Fahrenheit 451, haha. And sorry for taking so long, I've had a super busy week so far!

umbriel«

»your skin and bones turn into something beautiful.