Once upon a time, he was an arrogant teenager who had the world laying at his feet. With his companions at his side he had feared little and burned a lot, and though his pyrokinesis has been lost to him for more years than he can count, he still misses it some days. In the Valley he would set random trees alight in the winter, creating bonfires that blazed all across the kingdom to keep him – and, in turn, his subjects – warm from the whistling winds that swept through the kingdom at all hours. He has fallen so far since those days, but he doesn’t miss the Valley anymore. Beqanna was made anew and he has long since learned to roll with the punches.
He sees the same creamy mare that she does, rubbing her neck along a tree and coughing up blood clots all over the ground, and he curls his lip at the heavily pregnant mare, disgust written into every feature of his face. With a thought the tree begins to die, and so does the grass around it as the mare stumbles off into the snow. He cannot stop the spread of the plague but he can destroy the trees and grounds that the sick infect, hoping to at least slow the spread. If any of his family were to get sick...
He turns his attention back to the bay mare as she speaks, chuckling as she explains that she was just keeping it warm. “How very kind of you,” he says as he settles in next to her, moving close enough so that their shared body temperatures would keep the other warm. He thinks briefly to Xiah, whom he had taken not too far from this very spot, and a smirk curls at the corners of his lips. “I’m Oxytocin,” he adds. Former king, former claimant to Icicle Isle, former... a lot of things. Now, though, he is just Oxytocin, free of all that once bound him.
OXYTOCIN
I don't have my head on straight
@[Wishbone] I'M SORRY I SUCK