i am the steel no enemy can shatter
The glaze of pain and shock has begun to fade, just as the bright colors decorating his body have. Though the torment of those days (weeks? months?) with the demon child would remain with him for the rest of his life, the ordeal had made him stronger. He is young, but he has been tempered in the fiery pits of hell (which look astonishingly like a princess’ bedroom). He knows what it is like to be rent limb from limb, knows the limits to which a body can stretch, and he has survived. The quiet, happy boy has been replaced by a hardened young stallion forced to grow up far too soon.
His recovery is well underway, and with it comes a determination to find purpose. To find a home. To train. To become strong enough that he would never be at another’s mercy again. With these goals in mind, he turns to the field. The place where life, purpose, home, can be found.
His strides are long and sure as he makes his way into the sun strewn tract. The bright light glints off of his body, the silver of his torso slowly fading into his original bay tones, his teal legs darkening into black. His scars, however, remain bright. Three legs are a mottled mess of silver and teal. A large scar across his haunches as well as a smaller scar encircling his muzzle shine bright silver in the sunlight. Telltale markings that would showcase his ordeal for the remainder of his lifetime.
He does not flinch or cower away from the light that exposes his numerous imperfections. He stands tall, unashamed and unafraid. His body, lanky with youth, is still, disciplined. His dark eyes shine like flint from his silvery red features. And he waits. He waits for those he knows will come.
shannisoran