He has a family, he knows that much.
He has two siblings, born alongside him to a plain, doe-eyed mother who had barely healed before she had been ushering them forth, depositing them with another woman. It had been the first lesson that he had learned, even as Etro had pressed hasty kisses to his already broad forehead: love is temporary. It had seared across his heart, flaring into life with the flames that licked up his sides and replaced the crimson of his mane and tail, brushing along his hocks. It had been the first lesson tattooed upon him.
But it would not be the last lesson he learned.
He is not an obedient ward and were his heart softer, he may be concerned for the woman who he slips out on often. Even though he is young, born prematurely as the trio took their first breath, he is built thick and heavy, and he does not stumble as he makes his way out of Taiga. He finds his way through Hyaline, not understanding or caring for the politics of borders and kingdoms, and then makes his way upward into Silver Cove. He has no real destination in mind—nothing that draws him forward like gravity.
He simply cannot stand sitting still, grows impatient and irritable and short-tempered when he tries.
Or, rather, even more short-tempered than he is predisposed to be.
Still, the irritation grows to a dull roar in the back of his head as he makes his way along the beach, the barest hint of dawn beginning to streak across the sky. He lifts his charcoal head, the tendrils of crimson streaking across his youthful features and his pupil-less eyes soaking it all in, remembering every detail.
If he sees the other girl of flame out of the corner of his eye, if the fire in him responds, it doesn’t show.
He just continues to stare upward, continues to burn.
@[Ember] - I hope you don't mind! <3 I couldn't resist.