[open] they say nothing good happens here when midnight rolls around; any

[Malik]

The moon is only a thin sliver in the sky, mostly obscured by the thin filaments of clouds carried along by the spring wind.

Spring in Hyaline is much like winter, Malik has found. The snow falls less frequently, but it still reaches his fetlocks as he wades through. The wind no longer bites with frozen teeth, but it still nibbles along his black hide and ruffles the short strands of his dark mane. But spring does mean he can wander alone now, even if he must not go far from the cave where he has spent all of his life.

All of his life he remembers, anyway.

His father’s magic has taken away more than his age; it has taken his memories too. His life in Tephra, his sister, his mother - all of it is gone. He is only Malik now, Shifter, Prince of Hyaline, son of the Alpha and her King.

He falls on his face into the cold snow, having misjudged the depth.

For a while he lays there, sighing at his own misfortune, and when he stands up it is as a young tiger with his same glowing skin. He shakes the snow from his face and blinks it out of his blue-and-orange eyes, and in a rare cloudless moment, the thin moon reflects clearly on the distant lake below.

He’s not to go to the Lake, he knows.

So when he picks his way down the snow-and-rock-laden trail toward it, he does so with frequent glances back over his shoulder for either of his watchful parents. They’re hunting, he reminds himself, they’ll be gone for hours still. They’ll come back with something for him, too, if only he is back snug in the nest by the time they return.

@any foal(s)

[Raum*]

Raum wonders if night is the best time to hunt shadows, after all. They are easier to find, obviously, but he sees now that he's outnumbered by them, and when he looks too closely at any one, it springs to life with strange theater that he doesn't quite understand. Soon, he is surrounded, a thousand possible futures in a whirling dervish around him until he's too dizzy to See. The food in his belly feels too heavy, and the colt swallows thickly, baring pin-sharp baby teeth and biting at his sides as if that will settle the unruly milk and meat.

This was a bad idea. Noon was better, the shadows were fewer, but they were more contained, browbeaten and cowed into submission by the sun. Now, they seem to go where they want and the images flow with them. In the shadowed depths of the lake, a colt trips and lands on his face in the snow and Raum snickers quietly to himself. Not all the Visions are true, although he's learned the simpler ones often are. He hopes that one was true, his favorites are the ones where you can tell nobody's supposed to have seen. There's something more, though, because the feathered boy recognizes that path, and the alignment of stars marks it as not so very long from now.  The sharp-pointed tips of his feathered ears nearly touch when he presses them forward, turning his red-eyed gaze to the very path the now-tiger should come down if all goes as Shown.

He runs (and he skids) to the mouth of the snowy pass, arriving out-of-breath and panting with the pale skin under his blazed face flushing red just as the tigercolt creeps down between the rocks. Raum leaps at him with a bright cry.

"I Saw you!" he shouts, laughing, "I saw you fall!"

He is quick-footed, and dances excitedly in place regardless of the ice that sometimes makes his hooves slide unexpectedly. He did not see the way the striped boy looked pensively over his shoulder (or he did not bother to notice,) and lets loose another wild peal of laughter.

"You had snow all over your face!"

-------
363 words

[Malik]

The boy is laughing, and Malik’s face turns up in a matching grin. He is a happy child by nature, and the worried feathers that had risen along his crest start to settle again. The starlight glitters in their iridescent black depths, and the soft sliver of moon overhead is just enough to reveal that the stranger is a colt no older than Malik himself.

“Yeah it’s pretty deep up there!” He replies with a nod. He’s going to say something else when something flies between himself and the thin moon, and Malik falls quiet.

The griffon has said nothing, but Malik calls him a ’Spoilsport’ for the reminder of caution that his parents had given him. He’d been hopeful that his companion would sleep while he sneaked down to the lake, but there’d been so such luck.

“Do you live here too? My mom said there’d be other kids here soon but you’re the first one I’ve seen other than Anath, and she’s only here because my dad let me keep her.” Malik is rather talkative, and he hopes that the other boy will come down from the rocks. He looks different (and for a boy whose parents cannot choose shape that is significant) and Malik is intrigued.

@Raum*

[Raum*]

It might seem to others that feathers were an odd suit for a horse to wear, but Raum, who shares this feature with his sister and with this Tigerboy, does not give them a second glance except to recognize the fading surprise. If anything, their existence cements the feeling in his childish breast that this new acquaintance is truly a creature of Hyaline, not some imported alien, like, he assumes, this Anath that has been found, and kept. It might also seem to others that perhaps 'kept' is an odd turn of phrase when referring to another foal, but the golden colt, in common with his mother and, apparently, the other boy's father, is fond of strange notions and accepts the idea quite readily.

Like his mother, his smile is wide and wild, but unlike hers, it is also full of sharp teeth that glint in the moonlight while he picks his way carefully from the rocks. He does not - or chooses not - to notice how the arrival of a griffon changes the other boy's countenance.

"Yes!" he is nearly shouting now (for there is nothing in Popinjay that would teach moderation,) "I've lived here my whole life!"

On level ground at last, Raum smiles again, and Malik will see how his pin-sharp baby teeth are not at all straight, but grown in a bit jagged and crocodilian. His mother - when she was pretending her very best at caring for her twins - told him that they reminded her of an old friend who was burned alive in a terrible fire, and how she had left in Nerine, tucked safely beside a pair of magicked eyes, a blackened piece of the mare's jawbone, all trace of muscle and pale hide burnt away to soot. 

He had tried to See this death once, but that was before he learnt that his talent lay not in replaying the past but sifting through the future. He has, since, seen others burn in his shadow plays; the living and the dead, in fires natural and not, and even once in a river of infernal fluid vomited out of a broken-topped mountain he did not recognize.

"I Saw you were coming, but I didn't See where we're going." Ever ready for adventure, he claims a place in this one without waiting for permission or invitation. Unlike Malik, he has no worry of his parent's anger. She will certainly not mind.

Raum*

in every bird a black thought

--------
+408 words =771

Please tag ratty or Raum* (<--with the asterisk) in threads!

[Malik]

“Shh! You gotta be more quiet!” Malik says, and though the words are exclamative, he manages to whisper-shout them in a way that he’s sure that no one but the rock-jumping boy will hear.

Otherwise someone might find and interrupt them, and Malik is quite determined that he not be discovered.

The casual way that the other boy speaks of Seeing is familiar to Malik even if the method is not, and he nods quite agreeably at this addition to his midnight venture. It feels right, somehow, to have someone beside him. The space there is not exactly Raum sized, but it is a close enough fit for this adventure.

“We’re going to the entities!” He says, remembering only belatedly to lower his own voice, tripping over his words as well as his feet as he continues toward the distant lake. “I’m gonna get a fire aura! Or maybe lightning! Or maybe fire lighting!”

Malik knows very little of the entities, only that they are the granters of magic and protection. One gives wings and horns, but he already has those and is rather fond of them. The other though, the one from Straia, tells the future and gives protection, and Malik is eager for a shield. Then he can go out into battle fully equipped, and win glory for Hyaline.

Or so he imagines.


@Raum*

[Raum*]

Raum had never been rebuked in his life. Instead of embarrassment for the too-loud voice, he felt anger blossom in his narrow breast, and the brightness of his expression dulled, the grin little more than a snaggle-toothed grimace. Shh? Shh? The golden boy knew little of temperance and found he disliked it immeasurably. He had no understanding of restraint or of discretion. Popinjay had not seen fit to teach him these things, she barely tolerated them herself and passing such a lesson on to the twins would have required significantly more self-control than she was apt to practice. His muzzle wrinkled between tense nostrils, his small ears slung backwards where the stiff feathers of his mane tickled them and threatened to draw the laughter out again, but he managed to hold this rigid, resentful air about him as he followed Malik back towards the lake.

The other boy hardly seemed to notice and Raum's fury burned itself off into red coals of indignation that were unequal to the draw of his curiosity. Much like moderation, his mother also told him little of the entities, but he was familiar with them anyway. Had he not slept beneath the warmth of the burning tree and seen vague pictures there that echoed his shadow theater? Had he not pressed his nose to the jagged, bloodied stone shoulder? (Alas, he had no violent deeds to his name to gift him wings or horn, and so gained nothing but pain by cutting his lips upon it.) He couldn't hold it any longer, the anger fell away to ash.

"Wait, what do you mean?" His tense steps had caused him to fall behind, forcing him to bound forward abruptly to catch up, "What do you mean get? I've been living under them for weeks and I didn't ever get nothing."

He had also never thought to ask them for anything, and even now managed to avoid the idea entirely. His lips were still turned down, but instead of irritation, confusion had overtaken him. Raum hadn't gotten a thing from the entities. It was galling to think that this colt he'd never seen before today knew more about them than Malik himself did. 

"I want a lightning aura, too!"

Wouldn't Parish be surprised! Oh! But he would prefer that she not know where he got it from, it would be more fun as a secret. Before Malik could hush him again, Raum's eager voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. 

"How?"

Raum*

in every bird a black thought

-------
+413 =1184

Please tag ratty or Raum* (<--with the asterisk) in threads!

[Malik]

Glowing fissures and flashing lightning are the only indicators of anger that Malik recognizes; Raum’s stiff feathers and flattened ears read as neutrally to him as the happy little flick of his dark tail as he bounces down the mountainside. The griffon overhead, with his own feathery crest, is more suspicious. He remains quiet, keeping his observations to himself as he passes over the pair of boys in an ever-widening circle.

His circling keeps Malik’s father aware of the boy’s location.

Malik clatters down the rocky trail, knocking a few granite stones and sending them rolling down into the scree. Once he reaches the meadow he considers running across it, but Raum’s words make him hesitate, and he turns back to look at the other boy over his shoulder.

Raum seems confused, but the conspiratorial tone to his voice causes a thrill of adrenaline to race through Malik.

“Well, you’ve got to make the right sacrifices, I think. Did you make any? You’ve got to fight or steal someone. I’m gonna see if Anath counts but if she doesn’t I’m gonna steal someone.” He pauses, his orange and blue eyes narrowing, and inspects Raum once more.

“You could come and help if you want. Then I bet we could both get lightning auras.”


@Raum*

[Raum*]

His mind was like a rock skipping across water, moving too quickly to sink deeply into consideration of the concept of sacrifice. He was dimly aware of the meaning of the word itself but had no interest in how such a thing might affect him and all the interest in the world for the promise of adventure laid before him by Malik. The promise of mischief turned his red eyes into rubies, full of eager, sparkling light, and though he did not intend to look cruel, the angles of his sharp teeth lent no kindness to the creeping grin that pulled at the edges of his lips.

"Yes!" he cried in a sharp whisper, "let's go!"

With a snort, the colt leapt into the air as though he had wings to take off, kicking savagely at nothing and then racing ahead as soon as his feet touched down to earth once again. His anger and resentment had burnt away at the promise of something exciting to do and to see. He did not wait to see if Malik would keep up (he was, in fact, quite sure that the other boy would come racing, too, as ignorant of his caution as Malik was Raum's anger,) and so spared no backward glance until the Entities loomed large before him. Then, abruptly, his mood shifted again, from certainty and gaiety to that brooding frown. The buckskin boy is still angry to think he had slept beneath Straia's flames and Starlace's stony glare and neither had ever bestowed a gift upon him.

Oh, But Malik had said you have to make a sacrifice. Raum squealed softly, frustrated - what was the right kind of sacrifice? - and looked back, searching for the striped colt's bi-colored gaze. Malik is the expert here.

"D'ya think they'd want my sister? I fight with her all the time and I don't think my mom would really care if we sacrificed her."

Raum*

in every bird a black thought

---------
+319 =1503 words

Please tag ratty or Raum* (<--with the asterisk) in threads!

[Malik]

“You gotta bleed on it,” Malik explains, gesturing broadly in the direction of the three entities. One of them requires bleeding on, he’s sure of it. He’s just not sure if it’s the statue of the mare? Or the burning tree?

His gesturing had ended as his eyes settled on the flames. His heart continues to race in his chest, but his hooves have grown leaden as the pair of them approach the entities. Malik’s dark ears turn to catch Raum’s words, but he is not really paying attention.

Malik’s eyes are fixed on the stone replica of his seventh great-grandmother. Though the colt is not yet two, he is already taller than the pony-sized mare. She is the one that asks for blood, he realizes. Her shoulders, though made of the same dappled granite as the rest of her, are stained a deep red. The scent of iron ore and old blood grow stronger as he moves to stand beside the statue.

He glances into the darkness beyond the ring of Straia’s firelight, where he knows the griffon watches. There is no sound, no words at all, and so Malik’s wide gaze flits to Raum.

Worry churns in his belly. This will hurt, and Malik does not like getting hurt. Unlike his parents, the boy heals from wounds slowly. He has promised Gale that he will fix this personal flaw, and this late night visit to the entities is his first attempt to do so.

(If he succeeds, his father might heal the injuries he is sure to sustain, or his mother might have the angels fix him. Eventually though, he’ll be able to heal himself. He’s very sure of this.)

“Do you wanna go first?” He asks hopefully. And then, just because he is prone to worrying and overthinking and general concern: “Or maybe we should steal someone first, just to be sure. In case Anath doesn’t count.”

@Raum*

[Raum*]

Raum isn't afraid to bleed a little, and considering his propensity for rock hopping through the mountains, maybe it's just as well. The little scuffs an scrapes that turn his gold coat rusty have never troubled him, but they've always been accidental. He's never hurt himself on purpose, so the suggestion by Malik that he do so is met with curiosity.

He approaches the statue of Starlace with some hesitation, not because he is afraid of it, but because he's not certain that whatever lives within the Entity to mete out her gifts is wholly contained within its granite edges, and he wants to be well away before she is able to reach out and grab him. (That she would be able to do so regardless of how far he leapt does not concern him, it barely even occurs to him.) So he approaches her with elastic knees, ready to spring away at the first sign of danger.

None comes, of course. He looks back at Malik's worried face and flashes another crooked grin. Nothing to worry about!

"Wait. I mean, that sounds fun and we should do it, too, but..." Without finishing his thought the boy turns back to the statue with its serrated sharkskin shoulder, and without giving himself time to think about it, he presses his lips against the blood-stained mark in a razor-bladed kiss. The soft flesh of his muzzle slices easily and bleeds profusely from a dozen painless cuts. Its only after he pulls away again that the lacerations start to sting and burn.

Nothing happens. There's no change to him at all, no wings, no horn, no crackle of lightning, no nothing.

"It didn't work," the boy says, and the irritation in his young voice is palpable, because it isn't fair. It shouldn't matter if he doesn't know all the rules. He fought with Parish before - like all the time - and he bled.

"I thought you said this is how it's s'posedta work?" He looks back at Malik only briefly because there's anger welling in his breast again at the injustice of it, but it is not directed at the striped boy. Instead, Raum round on the statue, rearing up a challenge against the stubborn, withholding bit of useless art. The stone rings when his hooves clatter against it, and - sure that this must at last awaken the contrary Entity dreaming within - he spins quickly, kicking out at her again and darting behind Malik.

Still nothing happens. His breathing slows after a moment of pure, shocked, silence. Then he laughs blithely, full of all the adrenaline of disaster avoided.

"Maybe we go steal someone fir--" His face distorts. A wet CRACK! fills the air between the boys and Raum exclaims wordlessly, falling to the ground while the valley turns thick with the sound of splintering and the boy's sharp squealing. Each hoof breaks apart, spilling blood over the cold ground and filling his already ruby eyes with a red haze of pain.

He's sure it lasts an eternity. He's sure he's old and grown when the snapping and the popping and the pain finally subside to a dull throb and the hot tears streaming down his cheeks are chill against his skin. All four feet have been cloven in two, burning and bleeding and sore, and he dares not stand up.

"I... I..."

Popinjay's son is left wordless by the Entity's revenge, whatever he is trying to say dies away on his lips as he looks up at Malik but the anger in his heart is not apologetic in the least. It's evident in the way he glares and snarls when he looks back at the unmoved statue looking so perfectly pleased with itself.

"Where?" he asks, dragging his furious gaze back to Malik. Where are they going to steal someone from?

Raum*

in every bird a black thought

@ Malik

Please tag ratty or Raum* (<--with the asterisk) in threads!