| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
Sin continued to smile down upon the filly, his half-frosted eyes also grinning in their own way as well (he had yet to blink once since approaching the tiny snow creature). Her flutter-dove voice erupted in her confident assertion to her confidence in her whereabouts, which only seemed to charm the dappled stallion even more; indeed the bite of arrogance that came from the tiny milk teeth were quite lost on the monocled sir, for his was a breed unaffected and quite oblivious to those kinds of subtle social cues. Oh, but how charming the poor child seemed to be! How darling the little snow fawn was! This, of course, made it much crueler for the deprived nymphette to be afflicted in such a curious fashion.
“My dear…” Sin started delicately, completely and utter unfazed by her tiny defiance; his words, however, were cut short by the raucous, glorious fanfare that signaled the arrival of yet another youngster. Sin’s breast positively swelled with affection and adoration; it had been some time since the Basin had been this full of downy little children fluttering about the place! And, as he received a closer look at the child, something clicked within the stallion’s skull as he took in the dark, satin black of the boy’s coat, the deep blue eyes of a churning ocean, the rigid, handsome lines of his form, as though cut from the finest obsidian…
“Oh, look what we have!” Sin said to the boy, his head dipping quickly and his grin grinning all the more happily, “A true prince of the Basin, yes, it must be the very son of the Reaper!”For who else could sport such a dark and comely countenance? The boy was Deimos in miniature. “Good day to you, Sir Erebos! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Zikar-Sin, keeper of knowledge.” He said this to both children, dark and light, his eyes swiveling from one to the other in manic abandon. “I also used to tell stories, you see.” Oh, how long ago it was, since he had seen his precious Farai, the striped little filly from the Threshold. It had been some time since he had fostered a child, and now, he found, the ache had been sitting dormant at the very bottom of his void-soul, rising up once again with these very newly minted additions to the northern clan.
Aithniel, the snow-child’s name was. And, now that he got a good look at her, he discerned more than just white and grey on her form; no, this child was gilded as well, draped with dusky bronze and gold. The idea that Illynx had begotten this child died as soon as it was entertained; the notion that his fair Lady could have begotten a creature such as this was utterly absurd. “My little Lady,” Zikar-Sin said, his voice soft and kind as his ice-burning eyes bore into the filly, “Sweet darling. How is it that you’ve come across unfortunate appendages as these?” As he spoke, he reached forward with his muzzle, in order to touch and feel the downy abominations that adorned Aithniel’s backside; if the fawnling would permit, he would even try to softly grasp the tip of one wing with his teeth, and pull it slightly. “Would you not rather them be removed, darling?” he said, withdrawing. “You would be so beautiful in your purity, you know.” He continued to smile gently down to the child, his mind blazing with the ideas of what one could do with a hybrid’s wing. It would be best to remove it at her tender age; the pain would be great, but surely she might even grow to forget that little piece of inconvenience? And besides, her life would increase tenfold, and surely the chances of infection would decrease the older she got? Child’s bones were soft; perhaps it would be true for wing bones as well? Oh, the research! He would grant a better life for the child conduct ground-breaking experiments, all in one!
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IMG Credit: ness094@deviantart.com
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[O] One of these things is not like the other...
