And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come
All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
Come he says. Come they must, musn't they? Well, they had best come, for Kirin would be sore if they did not.
A few do indeed heed his presence, his youngest sister for instance. She is sleek and new, dark of coat like their damn but all together lacking anything significant- much like Kult. And though lacking of some visual spectacle, she was beauty alongside the state of degradation the winged mare had succumbed to. Feathers peeling and floating away where she stepped, so broken and mangled were her wings that no amount of rehabilitation, or rest, would provide redemption for them now. She had tried to leave him once but just the once. That's usually all it took, one missed step- they all learned in the end.
Again he is pleased as another makes their way to the group, floating from the skies to meet them on solid ground. His very own flesh and blood made whole and given substance in this vessel, on this plane of being. "Kirke." He smiles, fussing the girls forelock in adoration and stretching a wing to hug her closer to his side. Closely now for soon he would have words for her, words for her that she must understand, that were of utmost importance. "We'll call her Kaide," he begins, imparting the gift of name to one of his eldest offspring, "yes of course dear, no thanks to Carys we can be sure."
Carys. As if she were not there. Carys Not 'your mother' or 'your dam'. No, nothing to impart the feeling of belonging. Nothing to associate with the word so strong as family, or motherhood, or a life worth preserving. They must not think of this sad creature in such a way, not anymore, not as used up as she was and proved to be.
He whistles then, for Potion, for Capture. He was tiring of the dead weight of the woman, he wished to be rid of her- and what a perfect job for his girls. "I find myself very unhappy as of late Carys," he tugs at Kirke, closer..closer. "We can't have daddy unhappy can we Kirke?" The silver in his eyes flashes, yet they find a warmth all their own for the girl, the one he looks at as he snares her to his skin.
When they come (and they do come) he smiles, for a moment fawning on each girl. One the color of the fading sunset, the other a mesh of silver and green- both special gifts that he could make use of. Potion greets him fondly, dipping her head inward as Kirin whispers to the soft petal of velvet atop her head. The filly nods, seeming to be unphased by the passing of words and with an 'ahah!' sound Kirin begins again. "I know! We'll have a game. You girls like games, now don't you?"
They should like games, they would learn to like games. Games. They would and they would learn.
A few do indeed heed his presence, his youngest sister for instance. She is sleek and new, dark of coat like their damn but all together lacking anything significant- much like Kult. And though lacking of some visual spectacle, she was beauty alongside the state of degradation the winged mare had succumbed to. Feathers peeling and floating away where she stepped, so broken and mangled were her wings that no amount of rehabilitation, or rest, would provide redemption for them now. She had tried to leave him once but just the once. That's usually all it took, one missed step- they all learned in the end.
Again he is pleased as another makes their way to the group, floating from the skies to meet them on solid ground. His very own flesh and blood made whole and given substance in this vessel, on this plane of being. "Kirke." He smiles, fussing the girls forelock in adoration and stretching a wing to hug her closer to his side. Closely now for soon he would have words for her, words for her that she must understand, that were of utmost importance. "We'll call her Kaide," he begins, imparting the gift of name to one of his eldest offspring, "yes of course dear, no thanks to Carys we can be sure."
Carys. As if she were not there. Carys Not 'your mother' or 'your dam'. No, nothing to impart the feeling of belonging. Nothing to associate with the word so strong as family, or motherhood, or a life worth preserving. They must not think of this sad creature in such a way, not anymore, not as used up as she was and proved to be.
He whistles then, for Potion, for Capture. He was tiring of the dead weight of the woman, he wished to be rid of her- and what a perfect job for his girls. "I find myself very unhappy as of late Carys," he tugs at Kirke, closer..closer. "We can't have daddy unhappy can we Kirke?" The silver in his eyes flashes, yet they find a warmth all their own for the girl, the one he looks at as he snares her to his skin.
When they come (and they do come) he smiles, for a moment fawning on each girl. One the color of the fading sunset, the other a mesh of silver and green- both special gifts that he could make use of. Potion greets him fondly, dipping her head inward as Kirin whispers to the soft petal of velvet atop her head. The filly nods, seeming to be unphased by the passing of words and with an 'ahah!' sound Kirin begins again. "I know! We'll have a game. You girls like games, now don't you?"
They should like games, they would learn to like games. Games. They would and they would learn.
Kirin
son of Khaos
@[Potion] @[capture] @[Kirke]