he laid low the warriors of old
The world is a bright and beautiful place through the very eyes of a newborn. In some ways it was a blessing to be born, unknowing of the world in its mixed ways of beauty and disaster. As all lives begin, you were born with a clean slate, a past that did not hold you down or obligation to keep you in one place. However, these are circumstances that shape and rip at this blank canvas, the stroking of the brush against the purity and naïvetés, creating a masterpiece or a mere disaster. There are many opportunities for when you are merely a blank canvas.
As for Rome, he had been one of the lucky ones. He was born with two parents who shared a close friendship and cared deeply for one another since childhood. The Deserts, his home currently, was warm and beautiful, which shared a positive attitude towards the world. His mother surely played a role in his upbringing as she shared stories to him about the world and everything it entailed. However, she barely mentioned her family beyond the ones he knew in the Deserts. Lucrezia had her own reasoning, but for now Rome is clueless of the brokenness of his mother’s family. It had not been ideal for the young cub to grow up knowing his foundation of family was full of lies. After all, his mother wanted to ensure he stood upon a foundation that was strong even if it was built on top of lies (but she cleverly planned it together as best as she could, as best as her father, Rodrik, had taught her to).
The young cub is unaware of the presence of the magician. He is too naïve to take in the scene before him and logically find the allure of this trap. It is with such a situation as this that a young mind learns of the world, whether this was intentional for wickedness or not. Rome eventually would learn; he will remember this moment specifically if all is to go sour. He can only play off of what his mother has taught one but certainly he forgets these lessons because his curiosity does get the best of him. Rome forgets his mother’s tales about those that deceive and manipulate others. He forgets about the warning signs, the times where he needs to be cautious and pay attention to details. Rome is a child though, overly interested what he doesn’t know and naïve in his decision making. And unfortunately, he will pay the price for being this way.
Rome’s nutmeg eyes analyze the flower. A curious grin draws wide and large across his muzzle. He is unware of the black bay approaching due to the flower’s now blossoming movements. A burst of noises expressing such as “Wow!” and “Awe!” escape through his lips as his eyes remain wide in amazement still. Rome jumps back in surprise when the vines of the plant reach out to him. The vines are quick to reach his long, foal legs before he can escape out of distance. He laughs when the vines tickle mid-way on his legs. It is a laugh of poor joy, a laugh that doesn’t have a care in the world. The laugh is natural and good – almost a beautiful song that is hardly heard by those that know of the world’s wicked ways.
When Eight speaks, the ocelot foal jumps in fear. His laugh becomes silenced quickly. Rome’s nutmeg gaze quickly takes in the presence of the magician. Naturally, he swallows hard as the presence of the stallion was unexpected but truly not unwelcomed. The colt’s ears flick forward as he listens to the words Eight says. A grin grows across his lips. “My mother says flowers die in the winter. So, why is this one growing?” Rome asks in a confused voice and puzzled look takes over his grin. He feels mislead by the information his mother gave him, almost hurt by the unintentional lie. Yet, his expression turns into an even more perplexed look when Eight mentions it. “How do you know my name?” His head cocks to the side, naturally curious but the feeling of fear edges forward.
He turns his gaze down when Eight does, noticing the flower has stopped growing, and watches as it blooms into a something quite like him. “OH! It looks just like me!” Rome says loudly with a gleeful voice. He looks up when Eight mentions he is the only one of his kind. The colt doesn’t seem to understand, simply unaware that he was the only one. Wasn’t his father just like him? Perhaps in some form he was but Rome doesn’t entirely know that. The flora disappears out of the corner of his eye, but he saw Eight bob his head gently. “Where did the flower go? Did you just do that?” He asks quickly.
“Ate? Eight?” He questions, confused by the stallion’s one word. Rome flicks his tail slowly, still feeling quite puzzled by everything at the moment. He has had none of his questions answered yet and the black bay is already walking away from him. Rome snorts in anger. “WAIT!” He yells towards Eight and quickly scampers off on the trail Eight went. “I SAID WAIT FOR ME!” Rome is then lost in the thick trees of the forest.
As for Rome, he had been one of the lucky ones. He was born with two parents who shared a close friendship and cared deeply for one another since childhood. The Deserts, his home currently, was warm and beautiful, which shared a positive attitude towards the world. His mother surely played a role in his upbringing as she shared stories to him about the world and everything it entailed. However, she barely mentioned her family beyond the ones he knew in the Deserts. Lucrezia had her own reasoning, but for now Rome is clueless of the brokenness of his mother’s family. It had not been ideal for the young cub to grow up knowing his foundation of family was full of lies. After all, his mother wanted to ensure he stood upon a foundation that was strong even if it was built on top of lies (but she cleverly planned it together as best as she could, as best as her father, Rodrik, had taught her to).
The young cub is unaware of the presence of the magician. He is too naïve to take in the scene before him and logically find the allure of this trap. It is with such a situation as this that a young mind learns of the world, whether this was intentional for wickedness or not. Rome eventually would learn; he will remember this moment specifically if all is to go sour. He can only play off of what his mother has taught one but certainly he forgets these lessons because his curiosity does get the best of him. Rome forgets his mother’s tales about those that deceive and manipulate others. He forgets about the warning signs, the times where he needs to be cautious and pay attention to details. Rome is a child though, overly interested what he doesn’t know and naïve in his decision making. And unfortunately, he will pay the price for being this way.
Rome’s nutmeg eyes analyze the flower. A curious grin draws wide and large across his muzzle. He is unware of the black bay approaching due to the flower’s now blossoming movements. A burst of noises expressing such as “Wow!” and “Awe!” escape through his lips as his eyes remain wide in amazement still. Rome jumps back in surprise when the vines of the plant reach out to him. The vines are quick to reach his long, foal legs before he can escape out of distance. He laughs when the vines tickle mid-way on his legs. It is a laugh of poor joy, a laugh that doesn’t have a care in the world. The laugh is natural and good – almost a beautiful song that is hardly heard by those that know of the world’s wicked ways.
When Eight speaks, the ocelot foal jumps in fear. His laugh becomes silenced quickly. Rome’s nutmeg gaze quickly takes in the presence of the magician. Naturally, he swallows hard as the presence of the stallion was unexpected but truly not unwelcomed. The colt’s ears flick forward as he listens to the words Eight says. A grin grows across his lips. “My mother says flowers die in the winter. So, why is this one growing?” Rome asks in a confused voice and puzzled look takes over his grin. He feels mislead by the information his mother gave him, almost hurt by the unintentional lie. Yet, his expression turns into an even more perplexed look when Eight mentions it. “How do you know my name?” His head cocks to the side, naturally curious but the feeling of fear edges forward.
He turns his gaze down when Eight does, noticing the flower has stopped growing, and watches as it blooms into a something quite like him. “OH! It looks just like me!” Rome says loudly with a gleeful voice. He looks up when Eight mentions he is the only one of his kind. The colt doesn’t seem to understand, simply unaware that he was the only one. Wasn’t his father just like him? Perhaps in some form he was but Rome doesn’t entirely know that. The flora disappears out of the corner of his eye, but he saw Eight bob his head gently. “Where did the flower go? Did you just do that?” He asks quickly.
“Ate? Eight?” He questions, confused by the stallion’s one word. Rome flicks his tail slowly, still feeling quite puzzled by everything at the moment. He has had none of his questions answered yet and the black bay is already walking away from him. Rome snorts in anger. “WAIT!” He yells towards Eight and quickly scampers off on the trail Eight went. “I SAID WAIT FOR ME!” Rome is then lost in the thick trees of the forest.
ROME
tarnished x lucrezia