07-25-2016, 09:09 AM
"Evil requires no reason."
I do not worry when Tycho leaves his guardian on the edges of Echo Trails. He was old enough now that I had thought of on more than one occasion dissipating the guardian back into the shadows where I had taken him. But Tycho seemed to like the giant shadow cat and so he stuck around. It was also a great way for me to keep a mental eye on him when he wasn't around us with the hoard of girls that always surrounded us.
I don't even worry when the morning becomes the afternoon.
Or when the afternoon becomes the night, or at least I try not too.
He always tells us when he is going to be back or where he is going, even though he is a stallion now and long able to go out and look after himself. He stays close to home most days, my beautiful boy, and keeps his mom and dad very well informed. He knows how we are, a little overprotective even if we want him to go out and meet others. He hates it sometimes, understands, but definitely hates the socializing.
But when he is still not back by the time the stars start to twinkle, I touch my lips to Ryss's cheek and take to the skies. I caw my worry to the stars and the moons, taking on Luna's favorite shape as I wing myself through the nighttime sky. I don't know how I miss his form or the magic that saturates the ground where the ice was, or the way the magic coats his coat with a smell of sulfur and ice. I don't know how I could miss that smell with my senses being cast as wide as they can.
But the guardian, that other piece of me, growls and snarls it's displeasure and wraps itself around our boy. I explode in the sky, pieces of fire and brimstone, ice and the whipping of the wind create an explosion in the sky as I see him. As I see the blood and the ice burns and all manner of things that had been done to him. I howl, a mass of shadow and particulates that hover in the air as I try to gather myself.
I burn, fire lighting up the sky even as it turns blue to the color of the ice that had created those marks on my son. I would find who did this...and they would pay. Dearly.
Evil, darkness, curls up inside of me, practically purring as it returns as my eyes search the ground, looking for the culprit that hurt my son, that gave him those wounds. I finally reform, managing to piece myself together into something more than a blob in the sky when the guardian's persistent summons bring me back to myself.
I can feel the Darkness howl in pain, in sorrow, in anger that it won't be released today. I disappear, taking with me the fire that had started below me on the ground, burning the trees and the snow of the Forest. I would heal it later.
I am holding my son against me when I reform, insubstantial but solid as a mass of black shadows. "Son." I say softly, whispering it against his form. I suck the pain from him, numbing his body as he is still. I push my energy into him in the wisps of black as he breathes, going through his nose, into his body. I surge healing energy into it, turning the black into white, into green and send it through him, healing each until it is not a gaping wound or a burn any longer. I heal him, taking some onto myself to remember.
I would not forget. The claw marks across my haunches the burn and ache will remind me, even though they are nothing but scars. I cannot touch his mind, cannot make sure he is well. I cannot wipe these memories from his mind. So I leave the scars, leave them so he has his own story. I leave them so others might think twice before messing with him again.
When I am done, I am so tired. The anger still smoldering in my chest, but the worry over Tycho, the guilt of not being there for him, and the pain that he had suffered keep me awake as I curl myself around him on the ground, back in the form of a horse. The guardian watches over us, occasionally growling still in displeasure.
I don't even worry when the morning becomes the afternoon.
Or when the afternoon becomes the night, or at least I try not too.
He always tells us when he is going to be back or where he is going, even though he is a stallion now and long able to go out and look after himself. He stays close to home most days, my beautiful boy, and keeps his mom and dad very well informed. He knows how we are, a little overprotective even if we want him to go out and meet others. He hates it sometimes, understands, but definitely hates the socializing.
But when he is still not back by the time the stars start to twinkle, I touch my lips to Ryss's cheek and take to the skies. I caw my worry to the stars and the moons, taking on Luna's favorite shape as I wing myself through the nighttime sky. I don't know how I miss his form or the magic that saturates the ground where the ice was, or the way the magic coats his coat with a smell of sulfur and ice. I don't know how I could miss that smell with my senses being cast as wide as they can.
But the guardian, that other piece of me, growls and snarls it's displeasure and wraps itself around our boy. I explode in the sky, pieces of fire and brimstone, ice and the whipping of the wind create an explosion in the sky as I see him. As I see the blood and the ice burns and all manner of things that had been done to him. I howl, a mass of shadow and particulates that hover in the air as I try to gather myself.
I burn, fire lighting up the sky even as it turns blue to the color of the ice that had created those marks on my son. I would find who did this...and they would pay. Dearly.
Evil, darkness, curls up inside of me, practically purring as it returns as my eyes search the ground, looking for the culprit that hurt my son, that gave him those wounds. I finally reform, managing to piece myself together into something more than a blob in the sky when the guardian's persistent summons bring me back to myself.
I can feel the Darkness howl in pain, in sorrow, in anger that it won't be released today. I disappear, taking with me the fire that had started below me on the ground, burning the trees and the snow of the Forest. I would heal it later.
I am holding my son against me when I reform, insubstantial but solid as a mass of black shadows. "Son." I say softly, whispering it against his form. I suck the pain from him, numbing his body as he is still. I push my energy into him in the wisps of black as he breathes, going through his nose, into his body. I surge healing energy into it, turning the black into white, into green and send it through him, healing each until it is not a gaping wound or a burn any longer. I heal him, taking some onto myself to remember.
I would not forget. The claw marks across my haunches the burn and ache will remind me, even though they are nothing but scars. I cannot touch his mind, cannot make sure he is well. I cannot wipe these memories from his mind. So I leave the scars, leave them so he has his own story. I leave them so others might think twice before messing with him again.
When I am done, I am so tired. The anger still smoldering in my chest, but the worry over Tycho, the guilt of not being there for him, and the pain that he had suffered keep me awake as I curl myself around him on the ground, back in the form of a horse. The guardian watches over us, occasionally growling still in displeasure.
pazuzu