n y e t .
Having a father who knew very little of childrearing (read: nothing), and who tended to lose his ever loving mind and go full-feral more often than not wasn’t really conducive to a functional childhood. Thankfully, her bloodline was perhaps more robust than the rest of Beqanna imagined it was. While the majority of her family had to remain tethered to a magician so they didn’t slaughter half of the inhabitants, Nyet was born with a clear mind and a conscience. Something that her father had a tenuous hold on and her grandmother lacked entirely. Family reunions, she imagined, would be a real hoot.
So Nyet, as any self-respecting youngster with a shred of self-perseveration would do, ventured out on her own. It wasn’t really a choice, but a girl had to eat. Thankfully, she just so happened to (literally) stumble upon her extended family. Or at least she assumed there was some familial blood in there somewhere because she imagined there couldn’t be too many half horse, have xenomorph hybrids wandering around these parts. Not when there were still so many normal equines wandering around living and breathing like nothing was amiss. But seeing as her father wasn’t really in a state of mind to provide a family tree, the resemblance was more than enough for her.
And when the girl had told here there were more like her – like them – Nyet had been intrigued. Of course, her stupid pride hadn’t allowed her to go with the girl right then and there, but after a week of lingering in the meadow she’d decided enough was enough. So her journey to try to integrate herself into a new home and hopefully an actual family began.
Nyet only had vague memories of the world before the darkness came, but she figured that burning horns wouldn’t be that hard to locate. Especially since it seemed that Loess was a lot more exposed than anywhere she’d ever lived. Better for flying, sure, but even in the darkness Nyet felt uncomfortable. It was stupid, she knew, because she was better equipped than most to defend herself. But she only had her instinct and her wits to keep her safe. No one had ever bothered to teach her how. So in that sense, maybe she had inherited some of her father’s feral nature.
But then she sees it, the whisper of flame, and she tucks her wings to her sides and draws in a deep breath as she makes her way towards what she hopes to be her new family.
i’ve been preoccupied with these sick, six senses. |
