" I'd Rather Die Young , "
Oxytocin is very much tired of life, but he knows better than to attempt to end it. He had made a promise on the grave of his ex-lover that he would continue to live and try to thrive in this brittle wasteland, and so he has. He hasn't done much thriving—his coat is dull, his mane and tail dirtied by mud and wind—but he has at least lived. He always knew, in his soul, that he would outlive her—he stopped aging somewhere in his prime while she continued to grey with age—but he hadn't realized that it would be quite like this. Quite... not worth it.
He has a daughter, somewhere roaming these lands, and perhaps she is his reason for staying. He has a son, too, but the man has not been seen in years—he is far from the black stallion's mind, and he hardly even remembers the name of the girl he had bedded to produce Davorin. Alise. Ah, yes, that was it. So small in the grand scheme of things, so insignificant. And Braylin, the boy he had sired on the firefly woman. He had met the colt briefly, years ago, but he too is gone. All the children had done was drive a wedge further and further between him and Kindling, until their relationship was truly irreparable.
And still, he loves her. Loves her enough to continue living for her, even when he doesn't want to.
He finds himself standing among trees and wishing that he still had the power to burn them down, though he had lost his pyrokinesis long ago. He had had a general once who was willing to burn anything down at a word, but Flamevein has vanished long ago into the night, taking his flames with him. It irritates him, knowing that he is a fallen king who holds no power anymore, but he has no desire to ever return to a throne. Let the younger generations bitch and squabble and raid and war. He has lost the taste for any of it.
He'd still be satisfied with watching the world burn.
He has a daughter, somewhere roaming these lands, and perhaps she is his reason for staying. He has a son, too, but the man has not been seen in years—he is far from the black stallion's mind, and he hardly even remembers the name of the girl he had bedded to produce Davorin. Alise. Ah, yes, that was it. So small in the grand scheme of things, so insignificant. And Braylin, the boy he had sired on the firefly woman. He had met the colt briefly, years ago, but he too is gone. All the children had done was drive a wedge further and further between him and Kindling, until their relationship was truly irreparable.
And still, he loves her. Loves her enough to continue living for her, even when he doesn't want to.
He finds himself standing among trees and wishing that he still had the power to burn them down, though he had lost his pyrokinesis long ago. He had had a general once who was willing to burn anything down at a word, but Flamevein has vanished long ago into the night, taking his flames with him. It irritates him, knowing that he is a fallen king who holds no power anymore, but he has no desire to ever return to a throne. Let the younger generations bitch and squabble and raid and war. He has lost the taste for any of it.
He'd still be satisfied with watching the world burn.