you're dripping like a saturated sunrise, anyone

[Mortal]

MORTAL

when its all the same
you can ask for it by name

In the half-light he can just barely make out the shift in the branches of a bush. Immediately his ears tug forward and he blinks at the gentle sway of the plant with interest. There was someone in there, he was sure to smell them, distinctly female if he was to be certain. Oh and how Mortal liked to be certain of things, it’s the only way.

First it speaks or rather whoever is hiding within the foliage does and he pulls his head back with a snort.
What are you?
Well then, surely she meant Who are you but of course perhaps she didn’t mean that at all. The world was terribly accusatory now that Magic had been snatched and traits had been siphoned from those that wielded them. Except for a select few that is, in particular Mortal had wings still, not his own wings but even imposter wings were better than none. He’d never admit that of course because he was terribly sour that they were bird wings, how was anyone to take him seriously when he strutted around like a giant crow?

Wings yes, all feathered and that he found odd. Then there were horns, he’d spied them from great heights on a flight and they all spiraled to a point in the middle of others heads. He knew that was very well not the case before so he could deduce that some had been exchanged and that they too were imposters- impostor horns.

The smell of dirt greets him as she breaks free from the tangle of twigs and yet still her hair is home to some. Dirt, earth, tangles, in short a mess if he were to be honest. Her coat was otherwise like the night, like his but she was decidedly plain otherwise. “Well, I’m equine if that’s what you mean.” Of course she doesn’t, those chocolatey eyes speak otherwise. “A pegasus of sorts, these aren’t the way they are supposed to be though,” he shifts the two appendages on his back, opening them just a smidge and fluffing them up. “My name he Mortal, which might be a better answer to seek. What’s yours? Are you lost or new, or what I mean, were you here before the Mountain?” Chatty thing wasn’t he? Mortal likes answers though, likes to know things and the only way to know them is to ask.

killdare x dacia

html by call