paint it black; any

[Lior]

dark son of gunsynd

The dark stallion moves without destination. This new Beqanna is not shocking nor appalling. It just is. Her new existence is angry and vengeful to the gray eyes of Lior. He is certain that fearful savages lay just beneath the newly sleek coats of spring time equines. Lids slit as the sun sears against the darkness of his back. What would this new Beqanna offer him? Solace? Peace? No. Inside his head, he crawls, absorbed in the search for something out of place...something to convince him that this was all a different game but it is his name that catches him off guard. As the thickness of his neck bends to look over a shoulder, the blur of blue is speeding to him with a fixed smile. It takes him a moment to recognize the young features of Igni but once it registers in his mind, a small grunt is what greets her. Lior watches her slow near him with lowering eyes. He finds this odd as she seemed to transform into a completely different horse as she nears him. Did he simply suck out the excitement in her eyes? He can not tell for she is not looking at him. A single feathered hoof thuds the ground as he looms near her and simply -boops- her right on the poll. Lior watches for her to look up to him and as a smile finally starts to curl the whiskered lips upward- ...it's happening again... It happens so fast that his breath clutches in his throat. The acrid scent of fucking and ugly rage. His muzzle is buried in the very same mane that once was gripped achingly as Lior bent and broke under the sickening weight. Dark eyes immediately slam shut as he grimaces in response to the searing pain that tears through his body, his inner most sensitive areas, ones he jammed down to forget. One does not simply forget being fucked raw by your father. Not just once or twice. "-son?" It's all Lior can grasp when he finally regains control, steadying himself. Pewter pools finally see from beneath the thick lashes as he pivots away in utter revolt for the stallion, detesting him. Lior can still feel the shame burning in him but he moves to stand in front of Igni broadly as he eyes his sire...his rapist. "Gunsynd." He would not call him father. Lior would never give him the satisfying pleasure of calling him 'daddy'. "Don't you have some small children to torture?" The inquiry is flat as the question is more rhetorical rather than of interest. Lior dares not look to the Igni as he knows better than take his eyes off the other male. "How disappointing to see you made it through the change." Once again, flat toned but the silver-gray of his eyes burn with disgust for the creature that was his biological father. LIOR