Zabini
black as a crow night passes by, taking the stars so far away
The horse across the way was all wrong – perhaps the worst thing he’s ever set his eyes upon. It was some horrible mixture of roaning in some patches and irregular splashes of white in others. He was flabbergasted by the absolute ugliness of the creature. How could anybody consider this to be aesthetically pleasing?
Symmetry was truly the upmost aesthetic to possess.
It was the epitome of balance – coherence and unity went hand in hand. It made him swoon and sigh and dream. Zabini couldn’t think of anything else in the world more pleasing than this ideal (idol even) to live by. If the world was beautiful, then everyone was happy.
He visibly cringed away from the eyesore and attempted to retreat as far as away as he possibly could from the monstrosity. Of course that meant he had to sulk somewhere around the border of the meadow as the ugly thing had been playing a social butterfly and remained smack dab in the middle of the gathering place. Why anybody wanted to even be seen beside the atrocious creature was beyond his understanding.
Settling near one of the small streams that snaked its way through the meadow, Zabini took stock of his appearance. He always took great care in keeping his silvery mane and tail detangled and free of any debris. He bathed regularly and attempted to keep himself outwardly polished and refined. He was proportionate and rather pleasing to the eye with the exception of that damn blaze on his face. It streaked irregularly down his face and even broke into two at some point.
He cursed his existence every day for this flaw.
He could never truly obtain perfection – uninterrupted pure symmetry.
