so long and good night; any

[michaelis]

Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.



He was the phoenix.

Born anew and rising up from the dust and ashes. Shaking his plumage out in order to face the world once again.

The nomad had returned to his origins.

It was almost laughable to apply a creature so associated with bursts of light and flame to the shadow child. He cringed away from the sunlight in order to avoid unnecessary pain to his eyes. He barely even remembered how beautiful a sunrise truly was. As more and more light filtered into the darkness, his unusually sharp eyesight would fade into nothingness.

He didn’t like feeling vulnerable.

And so the shadow child has developed nocturnal tendencies as a direct result.

It was the moment just past dusk – the sun’s rays already far below the earth’s horizon. Michaelis remained idle just behind the barrier of open meadow and thick forest. Mismatched eyes were intent upon the tendrils of shadow flailing about his face. They were demanding little things, always pulling his attention away from others they deemed as competition for his affection. He snapped at one in particular that happened to slither uncomfortably close to one of his eyes. Careless and selfish little things they were.

Tangible and easily manipulated, these tendrils comforted themselves in his presence. Besides he had long grown used to their sometimes pestering ways.

Michaelis
( The Shadow Child )

[Rhory]

I have died every day waiting for you.
Darling, don't be afraid. I have loved you for a thousand years.
What’s he going to do with himself?  

The tovero stallion skirts around the edges of the meadow, trying to keep out of view of the many horses that have gathered their this evening.  He doesn’t want to attract any attention, doesn’t want to have to talk to any one.

He wants to be alone.  All alone.  None of them can ever replace his dearest friends anyway.  

He walks until he finds himself at the border between the meadow and the surrounding woods.  It’s dark in there.  Quiet.  Rhory finds himself wanting to lose himself in that nothingness.  He wants to join it, become a part of it.  Feel nothing.  

He’s considering venturing in, when the slightest movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.  His head whips around, suddenly nervous.  It’s a stallion.  A stallion shrouded in shadow.  Darkness licks at the stallion’s edges, giving an air that is both sinister and mysterious.  Rhory clears his throat awkwardly.  “Um … hello?”  The stallion seems intent upon something.  Rhory hopes that he will not be angry about being disturbed.

He takes a fumbling step forward, then stops.  What the hell is he doing?  Why is he even bothering?  He’s done enough damage during his life.  He doesn’t need to inflict himself upon others.  

And yet, he stays.
Rhory
I'll love you for a thousand more.

Ew I'm sorry. I'm struggling with him right now.

[michaelis]

Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you
know. And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
The reprimanded tendril slithers across his cheek in apology before fading back in with its siblings once again. They truly meant no harm; they were eager little puppies vying for their master’s care and attention. Michaelis couldn’t fault the shadow cirri for many lacked the ability to see them individually and failed to look beyond their overall foreboding cloud of pure darkness. He supposed he’d have to make do with being one of the few who remained bothered by the naughty little things.

The shadow child remained just a little bitter about the whole fairyland episode.

His inner pity party is interrupted by an extremely tentative greeting.

The shadows seemingly dissipate from his side, but he knows they linger in the background somewhere. They are overprotective at times. The painted stallion seems nervous, whether that was because he was a stranger or it was Michaelis himself that set him off remains to be seen. Although he held some mustang within his bloodline, he was rather daintily built for one. He certainly wasn’t one to inspire awe or fear just from physical appearance alone. Unless, of course, someone were to find his blue roaning pukeworthy, but Michaelis felt he cut a striking figure anyhow.

“Hello.”

As the stallion comes to a hesitant stop, the shadow child narrows his eyes upon the stranger. He is very familiar to him. Michaelis was rather excellent at remembering and categorizing those he’s met before. People were his fascination; he was always on the lookout for those who he considered noteworthy. Like a raven, he continuously seeks to add to his shiny hoard.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we? You are of the tundra?”

Michaelis
( The Shadow Child )

[Rhory]

As he stands there, ever so awkwardly waiting for the stranger to respond, his mind wanders.

He can't help but wonder what they're doing now, off in the depths of their muggy jungle home. Are they happy there, with Gendry's family? Have they perhaps even started a family of their own?

What would their children look like? Would they have Arrya's bay coat? Or would they inherit Gendry's orange and red? Or even some combination of the two? And who would they take after, personality wise? Would they have Arrya's spunk and fire, or would they have Gendry's surliness (hiding that kind heart deep within)? He would like to meet them, he thinks. As much as it would hurt. He'd like to know Arrya's children.

The stallion speaks then and Rhory blinks in embarrassment. He needs to stop living in his head. He is here and now. Arrya and Gendry are far, far away. And any children of theirs might not even exist.

The stranger says that they've met before and Rhory narrows his eyes at he roan, forcing himself to focus. Yes ... he does seem familiar ... somehow. Then the Tundra is mentioned, and a faint, faint memory is sparked - of a cold, snowy night, years ago. "O-oh. Yes. Well, I was. Not anymore. Not for a long time." He had failed so horribly at that venture, just as he's failed at everything else. "I'm Rhory."