live until we die - any

[Trekori]

Trekori

i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
but my fingers and toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and i feel so alone
i don't want to die, i want to sleep

I am not like these other two, and yet I still feel drawn to them. Khaedrik, perhaps, because we have met before and found a familiar in one another: the other because he is masterful with the shadows. Next to them, I am useless, a manipulator of nothing, a simpleton by means of exactly how complicated Beqannians are. Though my eyes see what theirs do not, and my wings send me high above them, and my horn could easily skewer them - I am still but a peasant among kings.

So, I come to grovel.

They are swathed in shadows as if they are alive, and I join them, feeling the audacity that is the light which glows softly from the tip of my gnarled, root like horn. Khaedrik is larger than last we met, but so am I. I note again how similar the tone of our palomino fur is, but I say nothing: not to him, nor to the other.

But I do gaze upon them. It is a heavy stare, poignant, as if I am trying to see through their skin and into their bones, deeper than eyes ought to see; and yet I can, and the purple gleam of my eyes communicates that.

Still, I do not speak; there has been a question uttered, and I will but subject to its answer whether or not they like it.