"Emerson, where have you been? And you, Caisimir! How could you leave mother all alone, waiting for you?" Over and over, over and over, impatient, restless, I had revisited the scene of reunion with my last two sons, who were gone. Gone! It filled me with something like a delightful blend of disgust, impatience, curiousity, rage, and hunger. Where was my son Emerson, who had, with me, created my son Kipp? Sons of sons! I was skewed, twisted, dark, and so naturally, a chilling smile crept across my face as the thought entered my crooked, gnarled mind. Sons of sons! Ha! What would Roanne say to that, hmm? He would be horrified. He had no clue, not one single idea, not even a wisp of thought, that said anything other than the sweet, alluring mare I had been to him. He did not know of my soul black and corrupted into the very definition of evil. I embraced it, enjoyed my devilry, enjoyed causing pain, enjoyed stealing my colts and raising them to be so much greater than any weaklings would. Wasn't it I who had two sons upon the thrones of the Foothills? Wasn't it I who killed the mighty Friesian, who turned out to be only a pale mutt?


       I knew, of course, of the strange stallion Militades' attempt to dethrone my princely Evers. I was dismayed, to say the most, at having let in this stallion to the herd; but mostly annoyed. Did he not know of the sons' wrath? Did he not know of me? But yet, I was pleased. For Evers had won, had he not? He had proved his worth... again. I did love, the inexplicable idea of love, at the least. My love was nefarious, aphotic, crepuscular; tenebrous, shadowed, caliginous. It was a callous love I harboured for my children, but I only wanted to take them in, give them fresh life, create a life of strength for them. Of course, it had benefits for me as well; timeless and neverceasing obedience, for one thing. Yet I just wanted to help them. So I say, anyways. Confusing you, am I?


       Satisfied with the knowledge Evers' leadership as chief was safe, I had slipped away again, out of the Foothills with mountains tall and proud, prowled through the Deep Forest. Chase. I had been chasing. A deer. A white tail, flitting before me. Leading me, an accident of course. Delicate hooves, fawn eyes wide and alarmed, so innocent. Leafs, spots of white blanketing the back of the babe. Blood. Gore. The sweet taste of innocence. Crimson life-fluid painting my black-furred jaguar lips hot red, dripping off my whiskers, staining my paws with glistening fire. Feeding. The croak of the carrion-birds as I sauntered away, claws covered in gore, tail-tip twitching in pleasure at the death of innocence. Nothing was innocent, and fawns made especially soft meat. Cleaning the meat from between my claws, nibbling away, extracting it. Licking my black fur clean and soft, wiping a damp paw over my ear. Continuing, walking, creeping, stalking, just another patch of shadow in the forest big, deep, and dark.


       Out of the shadows, I had transformed into my equine self, slipping into the skin easy and relaxed, content to stalk the lands as a marble, granite and obsidian statue, so much less terrifying to others, yet my personality the same, in either forms I was content to transform into. My temper was still piceous. I have exited the Deep Forest, enjoying the sunlight and the warmth of Helovia's Heart, and then I scent a disturbance. Stallions. I force myself into an ambling trot, looking for all in the world a peaceful old mare, when I am so much worse. Peaceful? Ha!


       The first thing my stone-eyes settle on is the black cloud disrupting the peaceful blue sky. A boggart. Yes, I recognize it; they were common in the black land one would imagine I would grow up with. Immediately I am on my guard, wary; what will it reflect to me? Caisimir and Emerson coming to kill me? No. I do not fear the jaws of death. Next, my eyes skip around to the three stallions clustered around the cloud, one acting all the fool and bellowing something about revenge. Idiot. Then there is a unicorn, and another, and another. At least they are stags, not femmes. Then a pegasus. Again, a male. Finally, a stupid tiger-cat. "Dumb-ass. It's a boggart." I snap. Are they all mentally retarded? "It takes on your fear. If we confuse it, we can defeat it." I snarl. I am standing in front of the swirling, chaotic black cloud, to the white unicorn mule's with a red heart on his ass to his left; two steps ahead, so only eight feet away from the twisted black boggart curling in front of me.

[OOC: Longest post I've ever done outside of a battle atttt 811 words :D

Summary: Is to the left of Valentine, a few feet in front of him, about eight feet from the boggart.

Major Fear: Sons failing at life and never achieving anything. Minor Fear: Sons leaving her.]