I hoped Mesec would never see me like that.

I had found something—I don’t know what it was, don’t ask me, I probably couldn’t find it again even if I tried. Some little bunch of flowers growing in the crevices of a tree’s roots. I found them and I ate them, and they probably shouldn’t have been eaten, but whatever, it’s done, throw me in hell if you care to. The point is that my head started buzzing, my eyes got sore, and my spirit started floating up above—certainly not on cloud nine, because that’s where happiness is and I was far from that, but it was apparent I was pretty fucked up anyway.

I hoped Ma would never see me like that.

The longer I walked, the more powerful the sensation was. I felt like I was actually floating on air, and maybe I was, because my spark was out of control. I felt it lurch in my blood, buzz in my bones; I felt it zip behind my eyes a few times, to and fro, to and fro, and I zap!ed from place to place periodically to let off some of the excess charge, because it was overwhelming. It made me even more manic than usual, which was saying something, possibly something dangerous, and it made my mind race faster than I ever deigned to make it race before. Thoughts—so many thoughts. One of which was the firm belief that the flowers were killing me, and that it was a dumbass decision of mine to eat something I didn’t know was safe. Hmmm, what a surprising turn of events for Roskuld.

I hoped Jiji would never see me like that.

A steady stream of laughter warbled from my throat, incessant and downright creepy. It pitched in tone and frequency, switching from wild giggles to slow, mellow chuckles that rocked my chest and shoulders, deep in my belly, jolly as the jolliest fucking thing ever. There was an incredible joke that I was laughing at, a wordless joke that sort of just hovered with me, regardless of how long I walked, how erratic my magic was. I didn’t need to outline the details. It was just this big-ass innuendo of hilarity that I picked up on naturally, and I was dying it was so funny. Legit comedy. It hasn’t died yet.

The Sun Lady’s words rang in my mind, the first pieces of a puzzle I had been agonizing over for months now: "You could learn from the source…Visit the Veins and pray to their forgotten shrines.” I didn’t doubt they were forgotten—considering, well, how some people conveniently forgot to tell me about them. Y’know. (Comedy gold.) A place of blue flame and magma and a pretty knarly land bridge—yeah, it’s super easy to forget a place like this, not in the least to remember to let the secret slip from your mouth from time to time. Yeah, there was no need for that.

But I found my way somehow, through the haze, on the bridge and over the river and through the woods, where the fire shined blue and the air was still and it felt as though I stood at the very edge of the world, like if I decided to jump into a pool of molten lava, I would plummet into space instead of a whole lot of hurt. And I found my dad’s shrine, too. Well, I *thought* it was his shrine, but it looked like someone had taken a little too much off to the top during a grueling haircut (shrine-cut?), because it was broken and in half and everything.

“HEY DAD!” I shouted in gleeful greeting (still laughing between words), stumbling towards my dad’s tomb shrine of worship, and everything was ironic and hilarious and sad, so desperately sad it was hilarious again. “Guess what?” This was a sly hiss, and if I had toes to tip on, I would have tip-toed a little closer, “Hey, guess what dad? Guess who’s birthday it is?”

I gave him a moment to ponder, to earn some brownie points to prove he knew things about me that mattered. That I mattered. Of course, I didn’t think I was actually seeing my dad at all, but the stuff in my stomach was saying stuff to my brain, thoughts and anxieties and memories, particularly another memory of the Sun Lady talking to me: “They may not answer your call." And for some reason, that was funny too.

“It’s mine! It’s my birthday! It’s my freaking-eaking birthday, Daddy!” I was squealing with laughter now, the tears pricking my eyelids in ways that could have warranted concern. Big deal. “And guess how old I am!” I hopped up and down once; I zap!ed over to the left, zap!ed back in front of my dad’s altar. “Guess, Daddy! GUESS!!” I was roaring now; I needed some spectators, because I was cracking myself up—completely knocking the ball out of the park with my wittiness—and I’m sure if I had a live studio audience, I would kill it.

“I’m a whole year old, Daddy! ONE WHOLE YEAR, DAD. You must be so proud Dad! Lord almighty!”

And then I couldn’t handle it anymore; the laughter was slaughtering me, and I collapsed on the ground, rolling to my back, my legs thrashing the air and my tears rolling into my mane, onto the ash and dust and black stone.


[Open. Crash it.]

We left mommy behind, travelling towards the Veins. I flew ahead, Sameira running as fast as she could behind me. I thought of taking her upon my back, but Gods know how long that would last. She was growing bigger by the day, already her haunches reached for my chest. It was scary some days, thinking of how big she is. Soon enough she'll be able to kill a horse with a single bite. But I (hopefully) had nothing to fear, for would she really try to kill me, her bonded, her master?

I think not.

I land as the Veins falls into sight, afraid to be close to the sky when I knew the Gods lurked above me. They could zap me out of the sky for being too close to them. Sameira waited eagerly, already striding closer to the Veins. I can hear faint shouting, curious as to who would be screaming at the Veins. From afar, it sounded like their jumbled words were directed at the Gods, but you never know. I approach the stranger, taking cautious steps over the rocky bridge. Four demolished shrines are lined up against the edge of a cliff, illuminated by the blue magma.

A black and white filly is busy screaming and laughing, directing her words at 'Daddy'. Tilting my head, I wonder if her father is a God, or if he was dead. Likely the latter, for I haven't heard of God children here in Helovia. "Is your daddy dead?" I ask, looking at the filly before watching her throw herself on the ground, her laughter slightly unsettling. But, it was nothing to the noises I hear in the Marsh, noises from unknown sources, bloody screams followed by hysterical laughs.

I simply stare down at the filly as she throws herself about in a dangerous fit of laughter. I wouldn't be rolling so close to the edge, girly. I mumble in my mind, Sameira nodding her head in agreement. A gently, childish laughter rings through my mind as that innocent little boy whose mother had slayed him giggled at my comment. I had not heard the boy for seasons, which startled me as his sweet-as-honey voice popped into my skull. Where have you been? I questioned, my words full of worry. Mommy died. I needed to mourn her and guide her soul. The little colt whimpers, his voice dropping to a more solemn tone. Flicking back my ears, I frown. I'm sorry for your loss. I hear the gentle whimper turn into pitiful cries, the same tears I shed for my mother now falling from the eyes of the dead. His wails sink away, as though he is tucking himself away in a corner. Be well. I whisper, then turning back to reality. Back to the hysterical filly.
"words words words"

*"Is your daddy dead?"*

She asked, this strange little dumbass intruding on my own personal brand of tragedy. Or…wait, this was funny, right? So it was a comedy, the other really creepy smiling mask that prophesized hilarity and the probability of me jumping the broom with someone. Anyway, the point was that I didn’t hear her, didn’t pay the slightest attention to her, because I was still on my back and my legs were still flailing in the air, hopelessly, helplessly, as though I were trying to swim my way to the heavens. Or…something. I don’t even know, man. I was doing something and it didn’t make a lick of sense but whatever.

I began to roll; I threw my body to the side, my legs folding underneath me as I flung about like a limp sausage, the laughter becoming muffled as my muzzle became shoved into the dirt. I rolled over completely, then did it again, not quite noticing the ledge I was inching closer to by the second. Or maybe I did notice it, and I was just being a hard-headed twit and wanted to see what would happen if I decided to roll my loony ass over the ledge of black granite, into a lake of blue fire and disappointment. I don’t know, I can’t remember what I was thinking at that time. I was just laughing and ignoring this stranger and rolling my ass over, and over, and over, and when I finally pitched myself off the cliff with a resounding ”WHEEEEEEEE!” and a last limp-dick jerk of my hooves.

Free-fall is a motherfucker. I only fell for seconds, but those seconds felt like hours, days, weeks and months and years to me. An entire lifetime, filled with all sorts of crazy characters including my loved ones and loved ones I had yet to meet and enemies I had yet to slay and smoky black scales and dragons and dragon-fire and sunbursts of color behind my eyes, because I was also probably going insane. Maybe it was the flower—yeah, that sounds smart. The feeling of complete weightlessness and insubstantiality probably fucked with whatever chemical was giving me these visions, and it was all very emotional and sweet and pretty fantastic, if you’re into that sort of thing. I wasn’t, so I found the whole pretty freaking disturbing, but what the hell did I know? I was falling to my death and laughing my ass off about it. I didn’t have the right to feel disturbed.

Anyway. It lasted seconds, like I said earlier; I fell from the ledge, squealed a little bit, then used the spark in my bones to zap! back onto the isle of the Gods before I had fallen too far away. I was laying on my side when I materialized from the shock stream I had jumped into; I lay dead, breathing slowly, my eyes on the girl who had stumbled upon my high and happy ass. Except I wasn’t so “happy” right now—for one thing, I had stopped laughing. My glare was an angry one, too. Just…dead and angry as I lay on my side, my right eye pressed in the dirt, my other one steady on the brown wings of this little girl that shared many things with me, and nothing at all.

“If he was dead,” I growled, my voice rustling the black dust around me, “we wouldn’t be half as screwed as we are now.” I had stopped laughing because, simply, she wouldn’t have understood the joke. It was that sort of thing you had to be there for, y’know? And she had definitely not been there.