It hadn't been long ago she was just a child of Beqanna. Playing with the other young of the lands- though she never truly fit in with the others of her species. No, she had more in common with the goats of the Mountain.
She was different, for a lack of better words. Her colors were drab, her horns not pretty, and her hair, well let's not even start on her hair. The children would laugh at her, calling her names like "goat kid" or "freakshow". One day she simply ran away. It was soon after that a horned man had appeared to her claiming to be her father. He told her that her mother lied to her. This didn't surprise her. So, when he had beckoned the child to come meet her true family she didn't hesitate. He did look like her after all and that was all the convincing she needed.
For many years she was tucked away with her new family of goat-like creatures. Some even more eccentric than she was. They were a different family, but she felt wanted here and so she stayed willingly. Every day was much like a dream. A dream that started out identical each time. Ending in the same way too. But the middle, that's where things got interesting. They were filled with lust, deception, ambition, greed, and manipulation. It broke down every belief of good in this world. One day, father said, she would leave there and return to Beqanna. That she had a destiny to fulfill and power to grasp in the name of their lineage. She was no longer a lost goat kid, but a proud Krampus prodigy.
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My descent onto the land of my forefathers is inconspicuous. There are no hoofprints pressed into the barren earth, no call rings out. I appear to levitate, my invisible wings carrying me across the desert plains. I have never been here before, though I have seen the lands many times in my dreams. They showed me all I needed to identify the Kingdom and I come without a question in my mind of where I am.
I land upon the cracked dirt with no more than a huff of dry dust cast to the air. My wings reveal themselves now and I tuck them to my side. The hideous things served their purpose, but I did not care for the look of them on my body.
My silver eyes scan the territory, taking in each rock, each cacti, each bone of a carcass long past expired. It was exactly as my dreams forthtold.
The muddy color of my body nearly blended with the gray-brown sands. What a wonderfully hideous place, I think. My blood-stained face, which has not moved up until now, turns slowly. The patterned hair of the goat dressed my blocky head. My horns twisted from the sides of my crown, they were evenly balanced as to not hinder my agility. Burdensome at times, but I have learned to carry them with great honor. Unlike the massive curls of horn my father and grandfather were bestowed, mine acted as deadly daggers, fit for a warrior.
Kreed
Open to anyone. Just un-closeting her and feeling her out
