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05-02-2013, 12:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-02-2013, 12:11 PM by Prometheus.)
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Were we not in such desperate need of a home and were you not so skilled at diffusing my rage, I would have turned, burst my wings from beneath by flesh, and flown away from the basin once and for all. But this rude and nosy mare won't deter us. The comforting heat of you, as flame shimmers across your coat, reminds me to be gentle. I have power, but it cannot show more prominently than good manners. Were Psyche here, I would demand a place in her herd after ridding myself from the "curse" of wings; were Mauja in the area, I would have appealed to the good nature of the stallion who first brought me to the Plague. But no. We are graced with no such presence, we simply meet this obnoxious little mare. For she is little to us. She must have seen through the illusion of my magic for a moment, but now it is fully powered and focused so that I stand a comfortable hand above her. My eyes, perhaps white before as she would have seen them, are now purer than the snow. They glow with the magic of life, too bright even to reflect the shimmering red hues of your fire beside me. I do not turn to her, but it is a matter only of pride. My vision is perfectly clear, but my confidence is too high to play on her terms. "We come seeking acceptance into the Aurora Basin herd," I remark snidely, making sure to stress you by my side. You are never to be forgotten brother. Thank you. Your voice is still strange to hear sounded in my skull, but it is something I've grown more accustomed to. You speak rarely, understanding how strangely I feel at the sound, knowing that we understand each other even without words. When your purr turns to words, that is when I understand how important something is to you. But though my body and mind shift closer to you, my attentions still rest on the mare before us and the conversation yet to be had. "I do not come seeking another mystified audience ogling at my existence," I go on with a downturn of my lips and a slight shaking of my neck and, in turn, the long waves of red that fall across it. My ears snap towards her, cupped perfectly to hear whatever her reply might be. "I would give you my name, but 'whats' don't have names. I suppose you'll have to fill it in for a useless lump of dead flesh like me, " I add with a dripping sarcasm, a huff of finality, and a gesture of uncomfortable distrust as I paw at the ice. Let her chew on that, I think with a snort and a whip of my lion's tail. [[For the record, Theus was using his potential magic in my post, which meant that Zdravilo would have seen him as he looked were he alive and full grown. I worked around it, but for future reference, he doesn't always look like a dead zombie colt. ;3]]  |
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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
