Uriel

It was high time that the young prince surface from the underbelly of childhood in order to return to the Edge where his mother surely awaited. He had grown alongside his father for a time, but returned to the vast realm of Helovia in search of his sister, Sariel. Of course, he hadn’t caught wind of his little family since his departure and worried that they’d moved on without him, which seemed almost inconceivable to the self-righteous, young male. Evangeline and Sariel were the very beating of his heart and family made up the bones upon which their safety rested. Though just under a year old, Uriel had wanted more than anything to outweigh the disadvantages of his youth, if only to stand proudly at the helm of his household. Where his father failed, Uriel would not. Where his father was weak, Uriel would become strong. Where his father had been ushered into the shadowy breeze, Uriel would be the light that bit through the darkness. But first, he had only to return to the place where it all began… the World’s Edge.

Patches of sleek, summer fur were gradually becoming nonexistent with the coming of winter and the colt appeared almost bedraggled. The feathering along his neck and shoulders shifted with the breeze and when the prince turned his dual colored stare against the sun, one could not help but be transfixed by his pale, cerulean eyes. Uriel had inherited so very much from his parents, such as the mutated feathering he and his sister both shared, but his eyes were entirely his own… They were the one attribute that set him apart from those he cared for the most. They were the sole window to his soul and yet so very quiet, blank even.

As the prince wandered once more along the borders of the Edge, he tipped his feathered crown into the mists, welcoming them into his chest as he did so. He was not matured yet, just shy of a year in fact, and his slender body had only begun to take shape of the masculine creature he would one day become. At birth, infection had affected a gangly, front leg, and it influenced a slight limp in his gait that would also dissipate with age. Of course, the colt often cursed his misfortune and blamed his father for such tainted genetics… He awaited the day when he was strong enough to walk outside his father’s blackened reputation.

For a time, Uriel gazed off into the land of his birthright and studied the rising of an afternoon sun. He wanted nothing more than to soak in this moment and to remember what is was like to call such a place home. The softest glimmering across his back became apparent as the colt struggled once again to summon the iridescent wings that only magic allowed him, and for a moment they appeared before falling away in a chaotic spattering of light. One day, he told himself, I will master it one day.

All of it.

Hide your fangs all you want

Tell us that it's different now, you're up to no good

Uriel

A faint hint of dragonsong drifted through the tall treetops and with each passing moment the incessant chattering became almost deafening. Uriel managed a curious glance toward the shadowed foliage that had yet been untouched by the decadence of autumn’s golden brush, but failed to notice anything other than the subtle flashes of orange and red as Tallis drifted through the wood. The colt was not duped by his mother’s constant companion nor was he lost to the frantic warnings meant to keep the prince from wandering from place. No smile touched his lips at the sight and instead the colt turned his eyes from the hysterical beast Evangeline had taken to hip so long ago.

It took some time for his mother to trace the images of his whereabouts to his current location and Uriel regarded any and all nuisances just as impassively as a stone wall. Instead, he preened his feathers, lipped a few errant stalks of grass, and meandered to and fro along the border, making certain that he never crossed that very fragile line. His taunting, however, was reserved specifically for the vermin he so vilely disliked. There was something sacred about companions that Uriel could not yet understand and wished more than anything to ignore. His father should have been the one at Evangeline’s side, but that bastard had failed her. After trailing the weakened beast into the forests beyond Helovia, Uriel had returned only to protect what Thor left behind. How he did so was entirely up to him… and Tallis would have to come to terms with that eventually.

When at last a vision of beauty and grace emerged from the misty heart of the Edge, a half smile curved the prince’s hardened lips. He was happy, truly and utterly, to see those evergreen eyes and pale, cascading locks, as Evangeline moved frantically toward him, for him. As if wishing to welcome her into his shoulder, the colt puffed and straightened, his feathers lifting in columns, one by one. “Mother,” he soothed, his voice dropping an octave until it was a bear whisper, unremitting and sure. Once Evangeline was close enough to catch hint of her light fragrance, the prince lowered his downy crown as a clear sign of respect for his presumably widowed mother. “I followed him, the fool. I stayed with him for a time out there… but I’ve returned for you. This is where I belong.” If he appeared wise beyond his years, he was not, but instead merely able to adopt a clever façade.

His gaze then wandered, searching and hoping, looking for the final piece that made up their familial puzzle. However, she never came… Sariel, it appeared, did not care for his return, and somehow that left a gnarled hole in his heart. In a display of weakness due to his immaturity and age, the prince lifted his front leg and struck the tender ground upon which he stood. Again and again he expressed his growing anger in the only way he knew how, “Where is she? Where is Sariel?” The colt turned a violent, icy blue gaze toward his mother and for a moment, one could see the hurt there. Yet, it was so brief, so fleeting, that when the prince had once again composed himself, it was a wonder if he even felt at all.

Hide your fangs all you want

Tell us that it's different now, you're up to no good

Misery loves company, so perhaps it was his own anguish that drew the Elephant towards his Moon Doctor and her tears. His soul, torn and trying to mend itself as souls always do, trying to fit the wrong emotions over the holes, like a sorrowful puzzle piece being shoved into a joyous puzzle. It didn’t work. It never did. But still, it tried. Relentlessly. But it only worsened the holes, making the edges more jagged, as anger, fear, and guilt wore away at the remaining pleasant and peaceful parts. It seemed that only others happy parts smoothed the edges. Unavoidably, it was up to the individual to fill the hole. But they were certainly easy close with smooth, non-hateful edges.

So the Elephant unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly) walked towards a group of equines fraught with tension, tears, and a heavy past. He reached the group, large body halting alongside Alysanne while his glazed eyes sharpened quickly on Eva’s tears. His face quickly morphed from blank mulling to concern, similar to that on Alysanne’s face. But, as his eyes cast towards the newcomer, a colt not yet yearling, the hard flint of possessive protection entered his blue eye. Though he stayed his anger that threaten to boil at the tears of his Doctor, he failed to see the familial similarities between the lanky, feathered colt and Eva.

So his eyes, assessing and barely calm, stared at the young one, “Hello, who are you?” he did not waste time pleasantries when a valued member of his herd was upset. His attention shifted to the crying mare, “Eva, what is wrong?” He unknowingly echoed the questions of Alysanne.

Uriel

He watched carefully the changing emotions as they warped his mother’s face, causing each fine line and delicate plane to harden before finally falling lax. The pain that settled just between her glowing, green eyes was unmistakable and he wished for nothing more than to inflict such agony upon his father. Whether it be seared flesh or shattered bone, Uriel desired the kind of revenge that was momentarily out of his reach. Besides, when he’d left that beast alone in the darkened woods so far away, he couldn’t imagine that Thor the Gentle Heart would survive long enough to be found. He was weak… he always had been, at least in Uriel’s opinion. The fact that he had completely destroyed his family only added to the burning rage that was called from its slumber at the sight of Evangeline.

He wanted to go to her and press his cheek against her own, whisper his loyalties against her ear, but instead the borders that had always kept them apart remained intact. There was something, perhaps just a notion that he’d adopted as a foal, which kept him safely outside the World’s Edge and outside the loving embrace of his own mother. He believed too strongly in standing tall when others could not. He believed that succumbing to the hurt and the memories was something his sire had relied on.

Uriel was not his father.

“Thank you,” he answered softly. For a time he begged inwardly for her to come to him so that he might offer her support and a shoulder upon which to cry, but the young prince knew better than to press his anguished mother about affection she could not yet give. He feared however that Thor’s presence would always be with Evangeline- especially when she looked into her son’s face and saw the brute reflected there.

Yet, it was not the thought of his father that drove the colt so wildly mad with grief and despair. He had trusted his mother to keep a watchful eye on Sariel and she had not. Their family was nothing more than a circle of defeated repetition, each of them finding reasons to disappear… The prince shook his head, his feathered plume pressed tightly against his crown, and scowled. “What do you mean you haven’t seen her since? Were her whereabouts less important than his?” the little prince seethed. It was a wonder to him that one individual could enrapture another so hopelessly… was that was love was? If so, Uriel never wanted to endure such cruel and demanding circumstances… The only love he was and might be capable of was the love he had for his family.

However, before he could apologize for his outburst or fully understand how Sariel had been able to escape Evangeline without notice, another creature emerged from the mists. Its companion, the awful thing, darted forth to greet his mother’s own and Uriel was forced to hold his tongue against the bile rising in his throat. Could they not spare both mother and son a moment of privacy? Did they even know of Evangeline’s children or how she’d let them slip away in the night? Anger simmered hot and low in his belly and the colt scoffed quietly when the painted mare (because she was in fact female) queried about his mother’s wellbeing. With an icy, blue stare he regarded the other’s concern with nothing more than an impassive nod in greeting.

But it seemed that Evangeline had been busy finding comfort in the arms of others instead of searching for Sariel, because yet another beast was involved enough to interrupt their reunion. The border that kept him at bay grew only wider by the minute and the colt began to shift impatiently at the edge. Was there no place in which he and his mother could be alone? The giant oaf, a virile looking specimen no doubt, was also greatly concerned for Evangeline. For a moment Uriel was convinced that his mother had replaced he and his sister, but instead maintained a certain calm despite the calamity roiling inside his head.

”Hello, who are you?”

Did it matter who he was anymore? Did any of it matter anymore? With a fixed, haughty gaze, the prince turned to the stud with the spiraled horn, “I’m her son.”

Hide your fangs all you want

Tell us that it's different now, you're up to no good

A large, black rimmed ear flicked sideways to catch the quiet, negating murmur of Eva in answer to his question. It was noncommittal, and clearly contradicted by the tears on her chestnut cheeks. The thin, black skin around his eyes crinkled in deeper concern. But, thankfully, Alysanne is there— close and reassuring to her fellow Moon Doctor. She was much softer and more nurturing than the Elephant could ever hope to be.

Blue eyes darken to navy and harden to flint beneath the haughty stare and flippant answer to his question. Evangeline the Pure gave birth to this impudent colt of feathers? His face, carefully slipping into impassivity, belied his irritation only with a mild pursing of thick, black lips. Before he can reply to insolence, a motherly reprimand whipped through the air towards the colt. The corners of his pursed lips twitched as he subdues the amused smile that threatens— despite the air taut with emotions.

And there is Alysanne, again being reassuring and nurturing, as she spoke and tried to mitigate the air between the scolding mother and impudent son. The King remains silent for a moment longer, gaze sweeping between the gathering of equines. A small corner of his mind itches to reprimand the colt as he would have with new recruits— cleaning weaponry with a back sore from place-putting spar was usually effective in curbing cheekiness… but he was a general no longer. He was the diplomatic lead of the Edge.

So his eyes swept back to Eva, pointedly ignoring the brazen colt, “Pardon me for not knowing of your son, Evangeline.” He then returned his gaze, clear and cold and blue, to the feathered boy, “It is clear, from both your tone and attitude, that you have sorely missed the guidance of your mother. You would do well to learn from her, should you reside in the Edge.” Though he does not perfectly echo Alysanne’s welcome, he does hope that the boy will chose to live in the Edge, despite his insolence. He is a man who values family— having lost his own. A soft sigh escaped his towering nostrils as he chooses to excuse the colt’s the rudeness— for now.

Uriel

He had come and been outnumbered for his efforts. Yet, somehow, he knew that this was ultimately only the beginning of something larger. It was a quest. A quest to find Sariel. A quest to repair his mother’s broken heart. A quest to erase whatever remained of his father’s memory and replace every word, every image, with his own. What a sick way to return, he thought uselessly. The anger that brewed from their scorn only reached a fever pitch until the prince felt nothing but the flames of hatred scorching his very heart. This was not his fault, not his place to apologize for what his father had done. He’d carried this burden for too long and for too long it had simply flowered within until nothing but the weeds of regret took root in his soul. Was Uriel supposed to lift the heavy bones of the Gentle Heart and wear them until his father came back to carry them on his own? It felt unjust for a child of his caliber to be burdened by the past and the truths that came with it. It felt downright discriminating.

Even his mother seemed to miss how hard he’d been trying to mend the wounds she suffered. He hadn’t followed for the sake of running! He had followed in hopes of convincing the oaf from abandoning the love he shared with the prince’s doting mother. But grief and anger clouded her opinions and the prince was forced to accept their weight, still carrying her torch into the night where her hurts existed, but nothing else. Uriel stared defiantly back at the golden one he loved so dearly, the blue of his eyes growing darker somehow. It didn’t matter what the colt had to say or that his wings had been clipped by the words of those others. They would never see in him what he sought to portray, at least not until his father came to take his place within these woes. He’d been made a mockery of, a jester with a bleeding heart, and Uriel would wear the paint valiantly… if only to save them from themselves. They could make what they wanted of him and Uriel alone would be the only one to know the truth.

Even the quiet patchwork mare appeared to feel unsettled in the face of so much scrutiny. Uriel sympathized with her desires to see the tension dispersed, but still he could not find the words to appease them all as they were caught in his throat, choking and full. The prince found in her something true and beautiful, the touch of a healer perhaps. He nodded almost warmly as she introduced herself, thankful for the reprieve. This mare, he thought quietly, is one I will remember. Somehow she had recognized something deeper than the cloak of madness he’d crafted from his father’s  numerous disappointments. She had found a way to tame the rage bursting within by seeing him instead of seeing what she believed he might be.

The King himself was clearly distraught by the colt’s behavior and Uriel vaguely recalled what he thought Kings to be and wondered if this was what he’d always imagined. The colt was uncertain, still unbelieving that they could not detect the pain he felt. But he’d taught himself to tuck it away, to hide the evidence behind walls and doors that he considered strength. For that’s what strength was, wasn’t it? Maybe he’d been deceived into thinking that strength was something altogether abstract, a mere idea that only mortals could craft with their belligerent minds. Was he mortal for thinking they were different from him? Perhaps. Or maybe he was just a wayward child without a cause, but claiming importance. No. It didn’t feel that way, at least not to Uriel. He had purpose… he had will. He only needed experience to make him honest. “Alright,” he stated to the King’s chastisement. With that, he stepped over the borders designed to keep him out and wandered into the mists that had raised a father who was not at all his.

Hide your fangs all you want

Tell us that it's different now, you're up to no good