06-19-2021, 01:58 PM
I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
It would irritate him to no end that he shared so much in common with Cheri’s lover. Lonely childhood, abandoned in the common lands. Unlike Targaryen, he had gotten a small taste of love and affection before his neglect. He had gotten a sense of family and place. It had been snatched from him cruelly and imprinted a craving in the newborn colt for more. When that had gone unfulfilled and the mocking of other children had become too much to carry, he had turned into the stallion he was today. His heart was a stained, withered, sooty thing. Barely a heart at all. He had tried to turn it to stone and thought himself better for it. Then he realized (with the heat of his hatred for Cheri and anyone that hurt him in general) that his heart was made of fire. How nice it was to feel it burn hotly in his chest, to feel anything at all that wasn’t pain or despair. To feel that flicker of flame if only for a moment in the confines of something so cold and dark.
He had been a Meadow creature when he had been found by fairies and had never really wandered into the Forest or the River, content to stay where he was under their arms length approach to care and affection. He had never seen the Wisps either as a colt but had been aware of them and other faerie creatures thanks to the lessons (sometimes horrifying) he received from his guardians. It had only been after he had turned Fae that he seemed to see things that he had missed before and perhaps in his presence (and other Fae Equus) other things came to light that were normally hidden.
Light dances over his shoulder and whispers in its strange silvery voice to him, “He is familiar is he not?” Goading, taunting. His red gaze narrows on the tobiano stallion. The male looked slightly older than him (not that he was keeping count of his age anymore since becoming immortal), a dark green and white, and ruffling wings close to his body with a shiver. Nothing about him sparked any sort of recognition or speciality except for that strange scent which he still can’t put a finger on. Just a mortal stallion with bedraggled wings and unusual coloring which wasn't so unusual in the world of Beqanna. He continues to look down his nose at him with even more disdain, irritated with the fact that he was obviously missing something.
The stranger begins to speak again and he’s only half listening as he tries to sort out the puzzle his Wisp had presented to him. He speaks about losing track of time and mixed up memories and this is enough to make his own stomach twist as the snake within him coils in defense and warning. “Have you heard this happening before?” He scowls in reply but it’s not meant for Targaryen. Because he does know about that a little all too well. Just a another thing to add to their list of shared experiences. “I have.” His voice is eerily quiet as he gives the man a condescending but thoughtful look. Perhaps that is what Light was hinting at, someone else that had little to no control over a power that had been thrusted upon them. The high price from a trickster to become what he was now. But then he remembers something else that the male had said. Something he had missed before when his interest had been piqued.
“I left Loess one day.” Loess. A loud bell rings in his long pointed ears and now that scent hits him like a ton of bricks. His expression smoothes into something unreadable as Light titters over his shoulder, realizing that he has put two and two together. “The infamous Prayers.” He finally says (almost to himself) and his words are icy and full of contempt. For the musk that comes off Targaryen is the same that had been woven in Cheri’s on that visit to Loess. That heart, cold and dead in his chest, suddenly comes to life in a vicious blaze of jealousy and hatred as that smug smirk settles firmly on his dark lips. The only visible sign of the snake within (slowly rising to the surface on the wave of his emotion) is the sudden way his pupils turn to slits among the bright red of his iris's.
He had been a Meadow creature when he had been found by fairies and had never really wandered into the Forest or the River, content to stay where he was under their arms length approach to care and affection. He had never seen the Wisps either as a colt but had been aware of them and other faerie creatures thanks to the lessons (sometimes horrifying) he received from his guardians. It had only been after he had turned Fae that he seemed to see things that he had missed before and perhaps in his presence (and other Fae Equus) other things came to light that were normally hidden.
Light dances over his shoulder and whispers in its strange silvery voice to him, “He is familiar is he not?” Goading, taunting. His red gaze narrows on the tobiano stallion. The male looked slightly older than him (not that he was keeping count of his age anymore since becoming immortal), a dark green and white, and ruffling wings close to his body with a shiver. Nothing about him sparked any sort of recognition or speciality except for that strange scent which he still can’t put a finger on. Just a mortal stallion with bedraggled wings and unusual coloring which wasn't so unusual in the world of Beqanna. He continues to look down his nose at him with even more disdain, irritated with the fact that he was obviously missing something.
The stranger begins to speak again and he’s only half listening as he tries to sort out the puzzle his Wisp had presented to him. He speaks about losing track of time and mixed up memories and this is enough to make his own stomach twist as the snake within him coils in defense and warning. “Have you heard this happening before?” He scowls in reply but it’s not meant for Targaryen. Because he does know about that a little all too well. Just a another thing to add to their list of shared experiences. “I have.” His voice is eerily quiet as he gives the man a condescending but thoughtful look. Perhaps that is what Light was hinting at, someone else that had little to no control over a power that had been thrusted upon them. The high price from a trickster to become what he was now. But then he remembers something else that the male had said. Something he had missed before when his interest had been piqued.
“I left Loess one day.” Loess. A loud bell rings in his long pointed ears and now that scent hits him like a ton of bricks. His expression smoothes into something unreadable as Light titters over his shoulder, realizing that he has put two and two together. “The infamous Prayers.” He finally says (almost to himself) and his words are icy and full of contempt. For the musk that comes off Targaryen is the same that had been woven in Cheri’s on that visit to Loess. That heart, cold and dead in his chest, suddenly comes to life in a vicious blaze of jealousy and hatred as that smug smirk settles firmly on his dark lips. The only visible sign of the snake within (slowly rising to the surface on the wave of his emotion) is the sudden way his pupils turn to slits among the bright red of his iris's.
obscene
@[Targaryen]
How dare you make Ob feel bad for him for a second ;p
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}