What do any of them want, truly? A place to lay their heads, nourishment, the company of another when the nights are long and the days are cold, certainly. But it goes deeper than that; most of them long for companionship at all times, never wanting to be alone. Some of them want to make the world a better place for everyone involved. Others still are selfish, only thinking for themselves. What do you want is such an uninteresting question, since everyone wants so many different things.
Oxytocin only wants to watch the entire world burn.
Chaos is where he is the happiest; wars and battling give him a joy that is unrivaled, aside perhaps from the company of a lovely woman. He remembers the days when Lokii and Flamevein flanked him wherever he went, a pyrokinetic on one side and a powerful illusionist on the other. Everyone had thought of them as cocky back then, but he knows that the three of them had made quite the threatening trio, and even now he longs for those days again. He was at his strongest then, with the Valley behind him and the whole world laid out before him like some tantalizing buffet.
As things do, everything had eventually come crashing down and while he had been a furious child at the time, he has made peace with it. He hadn’t been strong enough to lead the Valley then; he’d had supporters but not the following he needed, and he had been an arrogant, angry child. No wonder Vanquish had despised him—he despises himself, looking back, even though they are still fond memories. He has grown since then, become stronger and more powerful, and maybe one day he can even take what he wants once more.
The girl draws closer and he notes that she is even younger than young Dawn, still lanky and about as graceful as a yearling can be. She may sound mature beyond her age, but Oxy remembers the cockiness of youth well. “You don’t have to decide now,” he tells her, dark eyes meeting her cobalt ones, “but if you wait too long you won’t even recognize yourself.”
She offers him a name—Starsin—and his eyes trace the constellations on her side, not hungrily but curiously. Despite his bone-white mane and tail, he is not used to unusually colored horses, though he supposes they are probably quite common these days. “I am Oxytocin,” he offers finally.
OXYTOCIN
I don't have my head on straight
@Starsin