01-21-2022, 08:30 PM
He keeps to the dark places normally, watches the strangers come - the ones who can - lets them pass him by without noticing that he watches from the shadows, wrapped between rock and coral. They change themselves to reach the kingdom, it is not in their nature but a trick of their blood alone that allows them access, even the ones like this female that so fully adapts herself to the water as if it is her right, but it's only lies. The young baltian follows her without turning his head, silver eyes peering through the transparent shell of his skull, and he thinks that if he cut her, her flesh would still taste like the dirt she came from, like iron, and not of salt and iodine as it should if she belonged.
He should let her pass, though. He should because he is not interested in knowing more about the horses that make their homes above the surface, but eventually his mother and his brother will ask him what he's learned. They will want to know what he is doing to make the kingdom better, stronger, safer, and they will not think much of his answers if he remains alone in the shadows with his contempt. A lazy pulse of his tail parts him from the rocky rift and into the dim sea-blue daylight that shifts and plays across his slick, striped, back. His black hooves crunch softly in the sharp coral-bone substrate and he says nothing but the water fills with the static crackle of electricity. Can she hear it, with her water-logged ears? He doesn't know, but she will feel it, plucking at her flanks like cleaner wrasses picking lice from her skin.
Ugh, he thinks, his face twisting into a mask of disgust, I hope she hasn't got lice.
It hadn't occurred to him before, what else they might bring with them besides their lying blood.
He should let her pass, though. He should because he is not interested in knowing more about the horses that make their homes above the surface, but eventually his mother and his brother will ask him what he's learned. They will want to know what he is doing to make the kingdom better, stronger, safer, and they will not think much of his answers if he remains alone in the shadows with his contempt. A lazy pulse of his tail parts him from the rocky rift and into the dim sea-blue daylight that shifts and plays across his slick, striped, back. His black hooves crunch softly in the sharp coral-bone substrate and he says nothing but the water fills with the static crackle of electricity. Can she hear it, with her water-logged ears? He doesn't know, but she will feel it, plucking at her flanks like cleaner wrasses picking lice from her skin.
Ugh, he thinks, his face twisting into a mask of disgust, I hope she hasn't got lice.
It hadn't occurred to him before, what else they might bring with them besides their lying blood.
@Waverly