feels like December knows me well
Golden orbs appeared where the darkness had been supreme ruler just seconds before, their depths blinking with the promise of stories untold. Arctyrus halted immediately upon sighting them, stunned by the ethereal nature of the orbs' existence; and then, drawn forward as a child to honey, he approached, unaware of evil in the world beyond the neglect of a mother. Perhaps, in the depths of his new disembodied friends, he might find some solitude.
Of course, his friends soon became embodied, and its glimmering teeth told stories far less kind than the pupiless depths of its oracle-like eyeballs.
"Hey!" Arc squealed childishly as the other surged forward, attaching the pink of its tongue to the salty stain of his own black cheek as if it were the most normal thing to do. The sensation sends Arc reeling back to his first memory of Brennen cleaning him as his mother towered above, dissociated and not even remotely interested in the caretaking of her own son. More tears welled up in the colt's distal grey eyes, and they fell without ceremony as he skittered away from the shadow-thing, ears pinned though clearly in an upset kind of way, and not in an angry kind of way.
"So what if I taste weird?" He finally mustered, tone garbled and defensive and pathetic. The ugly boy stomped a hind hoof, acutely aware of how disproportionate his drafty figure was compared to admittedly incomprehensible mass of shadow which stood before him, happy to be one big enigma in a world without answers.
But maybe, this world had kindness.
Sniveling and moodily shifting his wide baby-eyes back to the other, Arc decides not to leave straight off, too curious despite the tears which trail down his face. "Who are you, anyway?"
@[Haunt]