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02-28-2016, 04:07 PM
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R E I N Her muzzle on his crimson splattered chest, and his eyes gazing up to hers in awe. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?! It was purpose, it always had been, not wings or horns, but Purpose. The word rang throughout his small body, sending tingling sensations to his hooves with each breath he took. His bugs had purpose, to feed his bats, and his bats to feed foxes or something. Everyone had purpose! Purpose made people special. It made sense to him. No one could control how they were born. Even though horns and wings are pretty cool, he would totally avoid someone who was mean to him despite the presence of either on their bodies. Therefore, it didn't matter if you looked cool on the outside as long as you were cool on the inside. Genius. He didn't quite know what to do with this realization, though. His horn seemed to weigh less then, and the wings of the horses in his mother's stories suddenly appeared as paper in his imagination. What would his purpose be? He was no giant, and he was far from being a great leader, he knew that. He could be nice, though! He could be nice and he could protect his bugs and his bats and his mom, too. He would treasure what he had and maybe, just maybe, make that his purpose. "I'mna have—" yawn, "da coolest purpest." The boy affirmed, slowing blinking his fading pools of indigo. "I'mna—I'mna make everyone happy," he muttered, returning his small head to the warmth of his mother's cream and golden fur. son of a thief and a priest |
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@Rexanna
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