01-02-2017, 12:34 AM
The world had become covered in darkness, a darkness that had swallowed one tiny sooty buckskin filly down, down, down. She had wrapped her wings around herself, a blanket of shadows and whispers that did little to keep her warm against the oncoming winter, but they had felt like home even intangible as they were. And slowly the leaves had fallen from the trees, covering her in a layer of mulch and keeping her as warm as was possible throughout the long cold night. Spring had come, and even through the rains the little one had slept, though her body had grown in the meantime.
Fed by the fey and some quirk of Beqanna’s altered magic, Qismat slept on through one winter, and another, all the way into the following fall. And when she finally stirred, her limbs were long and graceful where once they had been gangly, all knees and elbows and awkward baby legginess. Her sharp angles had smoothed, now sleek and gently rounded. Still this new shape was unfamiliar, and she struggled to her feet like she had never stood before, limbs splayed, stance wide to balance out the unfamiliar distribution of weight when it was so very, very high off the ground.
It wasn’t until she managed to stand, bracing herself against the pull of gravity and finding that oh-so-elusive balancing point, that she realized something was missing. Something that made her feel warm and cozy, safe and sound. Some indefinable quality in the air that made her feel like she was where she belonged, what on earth could it--oh. Oh no. She craned her head around to look at her naked back, at the nothing where shadows once coalesced into lovely little wings that had wrapped themselves around her and held her close.
Soft brown doe eyes widened as tears blurred her vision, welling up just enough to make her eyes shine in the silver light of the full moon. Gone, they were gone, all gone. No soft warm blanket of dark to wrap around herself, to keep her safe. To keep the world at bay a little longer, just another dawn, just another day, another sunset, back into the depths of night.
She’d always felt safest in the dark.
Fed by the fey and some quirk of Beqanna’s altered magic, Qismat slept on through one winter, and another, all the way into the following fall. And when she finally stirred, her limbs were long and graceful where once they had been gangly, all knees and elbows and awkward baby legginess. Her sharp angles had smoothed, now sleek and gently rounded. Still this new shape was unfamiliar, and she struggled to her feet like she had never stood before, limbs splayed, stance wide to balance out the unfamiliar distribution of weight when it was so very, very high off the ground.
It wasn’t until she managed to stand, bracing herself against the pull of gravity and finding that oh-so-elusive balancing point, that she realized something was missing. Something that made her feel warm and cozy, safe and sound. Some indefinable quality in the air that made her feel like she was where she belonged, what on earth could it--oh. Oh no. She craned her head around to look at her naked back, at the nothing where shadows once coalesced into lovely little wings that had wrapped themselves around her and held her close.
Soft brown doe eyes widened as tears blurred her vision, welling up just enough to make her eyes shine in the silver light of the full moon. Gone, they were gone, all gone. No soft warm blanket of dark to wrap around herself, to keep her safe. To keep the world at bay a little longer, just another dawn, just another day, another sunset, back into the depths of night.
She’d always felt safest in the dark.