Today was turning out to be much more interesting than he had first assumed.
He had woken up still trapped in a prison that felt like his own body and yet wasn’t. He appreciated the weight of his horn, the weapon it could be, but it was alien and wrong. He much preferred the blunt force of the horns that now curled from either side of his head, the split in his hooves, the powers that flowed like poison through his veins. He had begun his search for those for who would receive restored powers; it was a calculated search that would take time. He would not give freely to any except his father.
Each would be a choice he made carefully.
Each would be given a gift with strings, expectations.
Which was all well and good, except it did not appease the hunger that rumbled in his stomach. It did not appease the beast that was wakening with each step, the thirst to feel the power of the Fear stretch out beneath his fingertips. He had felt it once, when he was young and milk-drunk. It had been intoxicating then to watch the young mare, foolish and selfless, give into it and fall to her knees. He had fallen in love with the way her pretty green eyes had rolled back into her skull, in the way she had dropped.
That was love, and he could not wait to taste it again.
He saw her before she saw him. Something like an itch beneath his skin, something that pointed him toward her. This time, he did not ask of things stolen from her or what she would be willing to do to get them back. But still, he asked. He slowed near her, his horned head dipping low. “Hello, there.” His voice was low, even, as he came to a stop, his dark gaze unwavering. “What do you fear the most?”
Bruise
head like a hole; as black as your soul.
@[Graveside]