Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
The shadow child was aimless.

He hasn’t returned to the tundra nor has he seen any of what he considered to be his around (Makai, Sable, Lujza, Baptiste). He was without purpose and he did not care for the feeling. Michaelis was a raven-esque creature. The shadow child was a genuine hoarder – constantly searching for those he considered worthy enough to be kept protected and displayed. He was drawn to others in a way that may seem completely senseless to others.

As per usual, he had not ventured out until the sunset was at its lowest. This began the process of his dayblindess receding and his superb night vision taking its place. He sincerely hated fairies and their monster-trekking fairyland; he could have honestly done without them messing around with his senses.

Surprisingly this late in the fall season, the meadow still remained quite full of others and Michaelis was keen on adding to his small (yet priceless) collection of objet d’arts. He was only ever in the market for intriguing and awe-inspiring pieces; after all, power was truly intoxicating. His mismatched eyes are drawn to a black figure that stands separated from the rest of the main body. The shadow child is immediately stricken by foreign orange eyes; the choice has easily been made.

The blue roan approaches the stallion languidly, his eyes noting the way the shadow tendrils seem to dance about in agitated excitement the closer he drew near. He does not notice the other’s ragged knees or the many scars adorning his body. Instead, his eyes never waver from the way the shadows seem to have accepted him into their fold – never once did they jealously try to draw the shadow child’s attention to them alone.

This made the other’s estimate raise exponentially in Michaelis’ eyes.

“Hello.”

Michaelis
( The Shadow Child )