I had a dream that we were dead
and we pretended that we still lived
With the exception of his rather unnatural appearance, Jinn is much like any other child his age. He eats and drinks, he explores, he heeds his mother's wishes and defies them in equal measure. He is, for all intents and purposes, an otherwise normal boy.
Even so, he would never be normal enough. For now he barely notices it (it is a small enough consideration in his currently narrow world), but there will come a time when he wonders why his father cannot always look at him, why the very sight of him disturbs him so greatly. It is a difficult thing for a young colt to understand, but one a grown stallion will question all too frequently.
Perhaps he is fortunate in his naivety.
Jinn? His name is a question on the other boys lips, as though he is not quite certain that could be his name. The gold tipped colt merely nods, affirming his name with the assuredness of youth. His own question causes Mortal to lift the transparent appendages upon his back, stretching them so that they catch and filter the light. Without thought, Jinn captures that light, drawing it to him so that he might taste it's beauty. For a moment it shimmers around him, echoing the black and green boy’s wings before absorbing into Jinn's scruffy coat.
”What is it like to fly?” he asks in an almost offhanded manner, his gaze still fixed upon the odd wings.
Mortal's next question, however, brings him abruptly back to the present. Offering a rather uninterested shrug, he says simply, ”I was born like this. Mother says I look like my grandfather.” Pause. ”My sister has claws on her feet.” As he says the last, he glances down at Mortal's distinctly equine hooves.
Jinn
undead son of Tiphon and Elysteria
