I had a dream that we were dead
and we pretended that we still lived
They are so very different, the green tinged boy and the gilded one. Mortal, with his stiffly military bearing (taught to him at such a young and tender age) and clean, elegant lines, stands head and hoof above the scruffy, scrawny colt with the devil’s name and face. He is not tall (nor would he ever be) nor regal nor even particularly beautiful (there is a certain fragile quality about him that some might find lovely in a terrible and heartrending way, but certainly he would never adhere to the traditional standards of beauty).
In all, he is rather… homely. Even the elegance of gold tinging his features cannot bring grace and charm to such a canvas. But that has never stopped Jinn, nor would it ever. Indeed, in youth it something one hardly notices. His concerns lie much more in what there is to see and do. And this boy is providing just the sort of distraction he has long been looking for.
Different they might be, but they can, it seems, find similarity in adventure.
For a moment, Jinn is picturing flight, to be able to soar amongst the clouds and fly as the birds. His mother is so gifted (though she rarely leaves her earth-bound children long unattended), but he has no such talents except his light. He has never tried such tricks with his ability (never had it occurred to him that he could), but seeing those lovely transparent wings inspires a devilish curiosity within him. Within seconds, a pair of wings are stretching from his shoulder blades, the finicky beasts as see-through as his companions and limned by brilliant white light.
Jinn wonders for a moment if the other colt’s dad is like him or his father, who could make his wings appear and disappear on a whim (why else would he no longer have wings?), and so, true to his nature, he asks. ”Why not?”
Mortal continues asking a rather (in Jinn’s opinion) odd question. How could this boy not know what a grandfather is? Certainly he had a grandfather of his own. Though, in truth, Jinn has never actually met his. Neither of them. According to his Mother, neither are good men. If he wished to meet them it seems, he would need to seek them out on his own. ”A Grandfather?” he says, the question evident in his voice. ”My father’s father. Why, don’t you have one?”
The next question however, brings him up short. He had never actually learned his grandfather’s name (his mother seemed reluctant to speak it, or perhaps she did not even know it). ”I don’t…” he hesitates, pale blue eyes dropping to the ground as furrows form above his eyes before he finally shrugs, expression clearing. ”I don’t know. Mother never told me.”
A slight frown forming on his lips, he does his best to answer the next few rapid-fire questions. In truth, he had never paused to consider where these things had come from, or what they might mean. ”I think so?” he says, the words inadvertently coming out as a question. ”Like a big raptor.”
Jinn
undead son of Tiphon and Elysteria
