My little Demon,

It pleased me to see that you were finally ready to encounter society again. Your absence from the sight of others was worrisome; for a while, I feared that I had placed too much trust in you, my son, and that you would fail me and disappear inside yourself. Yes, I have heard your claims of illness, your protests that your body discovered weakness and therefore you needed to rest, but these claims are no comfort to me. I see only foolishness in your hermitage, oblique reasoning used to defer the blame from your own unworthy visage. Fear not, darling, I am willing to forgive you, I simply needed to see you try. You will be my last child, I am sure - do not disappoint me as your sister seems bound to do.

Although I cannot say I fully approve of your choice of friend, I understand what drew you to these two. The filly has some power and poise that I can admire, the beast is a creature of lost majesty, despite his faulty wings. But never forget, Belial, you are a unicorn, a purebred descendant of Cinnoru, and the pride of your heritage must be maintained. But you have yet to meet a true underling, my son. When you do, you will understand why I tell tales of their barbarism and stooped inferiority. For now, your friends are mixtures and mutts, disgusting half breeds who you will someday understand are not your equals.

One day you will no longer disappoint me.

When you came across the pair again, the trepidation you showed made me think that perhaps that day was now, that you had realized these two were below your interest. But no, it wasn't that, was it? You wanted to impress them, to impress her. Oh, it disgusts me, but what can a mother do? You followed the beast, your fascination with him evident, but he did not see you, and so you hid, Belial. Like a coward you hid, and conjured up a copy of yourself, creating the likeness with sparse sunbeams and ambient light before sending it into their midst. You wanted to see if it would work, if they would think the illusion to be you, and I suppose I cannot fault you for that. Your skills are valuable, and it is important to hone them; I merely wish you would use them for more fruitful purposes.

You sent your shade into their midst, but you forgot something, darling, and as it walked it made no sound. Perfect in every other way; you even remembered to give it some light aroma - but silent in its motions. It is also missing it's final horn. Really, I cannot give you passing marks for this, darling. It walked up to them, slipping behind faded branch and grinning like a jackal, its steps fluid enough and its eyes bright. It stopped some lengths from the cat and Ktulu, and stomped its right fore - again, you little fool, with no sound. But it was your voice that emerged from its lips, or a course shade of it. "Hey there, Fangs!" it coughed at the cat, and once there may have been something eager in the tones, but now it lies flat. Oh, you like that creature, do you not? The illusion stepped closer to it, before it turned to face Ktulu, this ghost of my son, and smiled at the mutt. "Yo, Red."

Nicknames? Really, Belial, did I teach you nothing of manners? There is barely any red on that girl! And what was with the feigned nonchalance, the attempt at a grown up manner? Really, darling.

Long time no see, guys. What's up?" I hoped that you were not just being coy, that you were watching and gauging as I had instructed you to. I hope that you will not disappoint me, Belial.

With frustration and hope,
Zuriel

Dear yet Foolish Child,

Your absurd desire to show off has once again backfired. Really, my demon, I have never been able to understand your insatiable longing for the approval of others, their impressed gasps and stupid, slack jaws. The source of your longing must be your sire, for I know that the bloodlines I granted you leave no necessity for verbal compensation. Of all the stallions I could have had, I chose him for his conformation and ability, as well as his relation to our great Sire, Cinnoru; but clearly you inherited some of his meekness, his sickening obsession with perfection and affection. I cannot understand it, the fascination with others and the mimicry of their actions that both you and he demonstrate, the way you let yourself become what you are molded into. Perhaps I was wrong to let you out into the world so soon, while your nature remains malleable and childlike. Oh well, there is nothing to be done about it now. Although if you do not clean up your pathetic behavior, darling, I will have to come straighten you out myself.

Did the mean children dislike your toy? Oh, dear, my poor little Belial. I have taught you time and again that you must strengthen your illusions, master the act of controlling them and establishing their realism, but you always seem to forget some critical step. Your monstrosity was rejected by their clever ears, ears that should not have been to clever for you, son. Your soundless beast glared at the girl who showed you up, its soulless eyes fierce and furious as it swept across her form. Why so angry, little demon? Your foolish wrath was misplaced, funneled through an empty shell that could do nothing but glare and shout, slant its gaze from the winged cat to the dun filly and flinch as the one you have so colloquially dubbed 'Fangs' takes a great bite from its leg. False blood dripped from the wound, a great patch of flesh hanging indelicately from its leg. The copper tang of blood hangs in the air; a real scent, or just an illusion of association in their minds?

At least you did that right.

I would have had you maintain your distance, even in the absence of your creation's success; but I would have had you abandon this ridiculous pair of misbreeds long before you even approached them. Of course, you chose to behave differently; "Ow," muttered your injured phantom, robotic and bland in its tones as it eyed the cat with barely contained admiration, a straightforward and unapologetic mix of curiosity and childlike interest. "Your jaws are enormous. That almost hurt." At least your illusion had the good grace not to laugh, even as it shifted its weight. I found it interesting that you chose not to mend the ruptured flesh, letting the wound hang open in the dingy light.

Your mimic turned to Ktulu, footsteps soundless in the musty brush, leonine tail beating pointlessly at the wind, three pointless horns catching the falling sunbeams. "Why don't you come find me?" it suggested - as though your flawed shadow could represent you - a stupid smile on its synthetic face, a gleaming challenge in its heterochromatic gaze. It was an innocent question, though, a straightforward tone of voice and simple desire to know why she thought the things she did. Why do you care, though, for the behavior of miked breeds? "What are you guys doing here?" you added petulantly, and I cringe as I write this, cringe on your behalf, son, and for your insatiable curiosity into the actions of others, when you cannot seem to fathom the reasons behind your own. You seem to anticipate a sense of purpose in others, when so often they float through life without goals or desires, aimless monsters that do naught but whine and intrude, love and die like moronic beasts of burden.

Do not become like them.

Exasperated,

Zuriel