KIROTTU
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When control was some fleeting, passing ideal, something that one did not possess, it became an obsession to find it, to wield it as expertly as the stallion might wield his magnificent horn in a fight to the death, especially so for a brute who was a prince, a monarch of a land where he would have controlled everything. The fact that he had only a little control over his appearance was boggling for him, it frustrated him more than he could have ever imagined possible, it reminded him consistently that while he could enjoy his true body when the moon graced the skies, as soon as the sun's fiery rim lit up the horizon, he was forced into the prison of an ancient, decrepit body, rotten and falling apart. Always and forever, he watched the motion of the moon across the sky, waiting for that moment where he would lose the grip upon his body, and fall into the dark chasm where everything about him was warped to reflect the true, inner, selfish self he was. The stallion pushed himself on, a snort vibrating the nostrils of the Spaniard as each step became more elevated, more exaggerated, more designed with a flourished purpose. He would lose control soon, yes, but at least while he did have some semblance of control, he could flaunt what he had, use it to draw others towards him, to sate that silent plea for company that was forever churning within him.

Footfalls echoed, muffled by the synchrony with which they attempted to match his own. A tilt of his crown allowed the violet hued eyes to behold the gleaming mahogany hide, the rich and shadowed hue a pleasant contrast to his own metallic sheen. By her side ran a most sleek and pale fox, but it was a curious creature, not a normal fox, nothing like what he had ever come across before. He wondered if it ran alongside her much like the other creatures he had seen lingering by the side of fellow equids, though he knew little of the intricacies of the relationship, the bond that bound them together by the very heartstrings of their souls. It was doubtful that he would ever experience such a thing, for it was unlikely for him to ever seek it out, and the chances of one finding him were as remote as his chances of breaking the wretched curse that plagued him. The magic that changed his very body was like a dark shadow, always at the back of his mind, always consuming his thoughts, destroying what flashes of happiness he rarely allowed himself. Even now, as he felt the brush of silken fur stroke his own flank, he felt a quiver of excitement run through him, but it was dampened soon by the harsh reality that had he been in his ugly form, she would not be treating him with such kindness, such easy acceptance. It caused a frown to mar his otherwise clear façade, wrinkles creasing the quicksilver smooth skin about his brow and mouth.


The melodic hum of her voice altered the frown into a softer expression however, as he allowed himself to hear it, to cling to it, to absorb it and to try and ignore the constant hulking shadow of his curse. He flicked an ear, a motion of instinct, an attempt to dismiss the darkness that tried to steal his attention. The young pup bounded at his feet then, and his long strides were interrupted, altered into a more bouncy, jaunty pace, as he leaned back upon his haunches to raise his forelegs in a half rear, playfully snorting and pawing at the air near the fox cub. The chimes of laughter that filled the air helped to dispel the remnants of darkness that threatened to consume him, and his own baritones rumbled from his throat as the carefree happiness was finally allowed to step up to the forefront of his mind and soul. "Hello!" He bellowed happily in return, giving chase with an enthusiastic surge of power and energy in the plump, firm hindquarters. "What is your name, fair maiden?" He called after her dancing form, allowing the curiosity burning within him to overcome the usual focus upon his self to allow his intense, bright violet eyes to swallow her elegant, dancer's form, all the while he moved his own bodice in time to the rhythm she wrote with the hoofbeats that pounded onto the damp earth.

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THE CURSED ONE