I was born sickbut I love it
His history with the Valley is long, complex, and eroded by time. It started when he was only a year old (when his skinny legs waltzed in and demanded a royal presence) and continued on from there (through lonesome nights and battle cries and pleasing his pink queen and murdering innocents and demanding to become something more). He can’t remember his age, or how many years exactly he served the dark kingdom, but that hardly matters in the grand scheme of things. Time is both faux and powerful (it is needed to observe the hours, yet it can be toyed with if only one has the proper tools).
The trickster was once transported through a period of weeks in mere seconds. The trickster was once caught in a bubble where time was nonexistent and those around him ceased moving and breathing and thinking. The trickster was once (most recently, in fact) slumbering beneath decaying leaves for nearly a decade. The trickster was once transporting a pink queen to faux places in the timespan of minutes.
Time is something he knows is fickle and funny, so he rarely considers it in the pathway of his life.
He finds his skinny hide seeking shelter in the Forest. The sight of dark thunderclouds was beginning to gather in the distance and he could smell the sharp tang of rain with each inhale. Although autumn rarely brought water and wind in these parts, there could be on occasional brief storm to dampen the falling leaves and help shake the trees of their weight. The trickster slides his sharp body (skinny joints, bowlegged forelegs, angular facial structure, scarred torso, silver bay with lightning strike white markings, blue and white left eye, blue and black right eye) under the protection of the trees.
The scent of a mare greets his nostrils (and it is a delicious smell, especially after being asleep for nine years) among decaying foliage and sleepy woodland creatures. The trickster moves alongside the Forest’s perimeter, his good eye keeping a watchful lookout for the source of that beautiful smell. Then, he spots her (her with her wide eyes and mousey coloring, her with her deliciously alluring scent, her with her womanly curves and curious eyes) and a chill runs down his spine. It had been too long since he had last played with the youthful mind of a curious innocent.
His tricky fingers sneak out of their box (creeping into the folds of her mind and casually poking at the softness). She is easy, she is pliable, she is unknown. So his tricks work their way into her eyesight (moving gently against the backs of her lids, forcing their way into the nerves that communicate to their brain, adding a few tweaks here and there to the machinery of her body) and he prods at her vision.
The Forest will suddenly melt away like syrup (colors bleeding into one another, shapes eroding and falling into themselves, scents and sounds blending into each other until she smells and hears nothing) and there will be an intense moment of agonizing nothing. There will be darkness (a deep, unending sea of it; like the nighttime sky with no stars) and it almost feels like death. First there is everything, and suddenly there is nothing.
Riding on the exhale of her next breath, the world swirls back into motion. Colors and shapes and sounds and sights form in the blink of an eye. The Forest lies before her again, as if nothing happened (and truly, nothing did happen; he simply prodded at her senses with his metaphorical trick fingers).
Only this time, there is someone beside her. And there is a charming yet deceiving voice to accompany it.
“Take it easy, babe. You look like you might have just passed out.”
LOKII
Let me know if you want anything changed <3