08-26-2021, 10:58 AM
I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget
There had never been any conversations with his birth mother about who he was or where he had come from. There had been no time when he, only hours old, stood alone in the den and his dam was nowhere to be found. It hadn’t even been a thought to ask about his sire and how he had came to be. Why he was wrong. Being raised by the wildflower court had muddled his senses about what family should look like and despite the awareness that most children had two parents, he doesn’t ever think to be bothered that he has none.
He is curious though on why this golden stallion wreathed in shadows looks familiar to him. The glow around him does not dim as he takes a small step towards the “Me” in the woods. Feral eyes looking at the bright gold skin and the familiar patterns that they both wear. “Am I… you?” He finally asks, unable to put together the obvious pieces of the puzzle laid before him. He is a boy surrounded by magic and seeing an adult image of himself (even though their differences are apparent enough) makes more sense to him then discovering his father by happenstance.
Fyr had discovered that most of those lurking in the night where like him, misunderstood. Hiding from those that were afraid of what they could not understand. He wonders if this stallion was also considered terrible, sensing a darkness around them that he doesn’t think only comes from himself. He tries to grasp the shadows, tries to recall the soul that had fled, but he is too distracted to truly focus on summoning from the void. So instead he offers the frowning “Me” a different piece of himself. Like the flower he had once raised from broken twigs for the striped mare, he now forms a detailed rose of fire (ten times better than the one he had made months before) from the decaying leaves and dry branches before them. It blooms and wilts before their eyes and the boy smiles at the man, hoping he will be pleased. “I’m Fyr.” He finally says and then frowns (looking much like the stallion before him) as he realizes that if the horse in front of him is himself then he would already know his name.
He is curious though on why this golden stallion wreathed in shadows looks familiar to him. The glow around him does not dim as he takes a small step towards the “Me” in the woods. Feral eyes looking at the bright gold skin and the familiar patterns that they both wear. “Am I… you?” He finally asks, unable to put together the obvious pieces of the puzzle laid before him. He is a boy surrounded by magic and seeing an adult image of himself (even though their differences are apparent enough) makes more sense to him then discovering his father by happenstance.
Fyr had discovered that most of those lurking in the night where like him, misunderstood. Hiding from those that were afraid of what they could not understand. He wonders if this stallion was also considered terrible, sensing a darkness around them that he doesn’t think only comes from himself. He tries to grasp the shadows, tries to recall the soul that had fled, but he is too distracted to truly focus on summoning from the void. So instead he offers the frowning “Me” a different piece of himself. Like the flower he had once raised from broken twigs for the striped mare, he now forms a detailed rose of fire (ten times better than the one he had made months before) from the decaying leaves and dry branches before them. It blooms and wilts before their eyes and the boy smiles at the man, hoping he will be pleased. “I’m Fyr.” He finally says and then frowns (looking much like the stallion before him) as he realizes that if the horse in front of him is himself then he would already know his name.
fyr
@firion
