The seasons pass, but the dust and cloying heat of the wasteland he calls home always remain the same. Darkling pays little mind to it, too absent to do more than note the passage of time. He has such little interest in things outside his own carefully crafted world. Most would call it selfish. Darkling would only laugh and call them naive.
What does he need with other worlds when his own is infinitely more fascinating?
Pangea has always been his true home and he suspects it always will be. Though there is little to love in the barren landscape burdened only by the stone of its canyons and scrubby vegetation that struggles to survive here, he enjoys it all the same. The nothingness of this place is the perfect canvas on which to paint his dreams, and so that is what he does.
He does not notice the boy at first, even as strange as he is. When he does however, there is something curiously unpleasant in the gleam of the palomino stallion’s dark eye. He is curious what the child watches so intently. As he approaches slowly, a rat scurries from beneath his feet towards the cracked earth. Except this is no normal rat. It is a thing made entirely of darkness, it’s beady eyes glowing eerie yellow in it’s impossibly depthless form. The rodent scuttles in silence, no sound heralding its presence as it dips into the crevice and finds the overturned beetle.
Without a single glance spared to the colt, the rat takes the beetle between its black jaws, and with a sickening crunch, the insect is dead.
As Darkling settles across the crevice from the boy, a faint, barely there smile crosses his lips. The rat scurries from the earth, darting between the unicorn’s golden limbs before vanishing in a curl of black shadow. “Excuse my pet,” Darkling drawls as he eyes the young boy. “He seems to be lacking manners. I do hope you weren’t attached.”
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation
@Bonebone