a ghost in the darkness.

He is a collector, a magpie of shiny objects and trinkets. He likes them broken, easier to manipulate and sway. Give them a glimmer of hope to cling to and they are yours, loyal to the bone. However he has found a new thing to collect. Dark magic, souls that were so tormented with their abilities and needed a sweet release. These he is far more interested in then his broken trinkets, far more useful. There are not many emotions he can actually feel, so being fearful of these beings was laughable. What was there to fear when they could mutually benefit each other? As long as they were worth something to one another, there was nothing to be worried about. Everyone has a price. He needs them now more than ever to carry out his plans since the fairies had decided to punish him for his latest wicked deeds.

He tries to ruffle the feathers of his wings only to remember that they aren’t they. Phantom appendages, he can still feel the ghostly weight of them but when he turns his head to look, nothing. Irritation reflects in the depths of fiery eyes, nostrils flaring as he grinds his teeth. Having grown tired of hiding within the woods he has removed himself from the underworld of Beqanna, looking for new sport. He would rather be cruising in the cold altitudes of the sky, adrift and unseen. Removed from this flat and boring world. Instead he is forced to stay on the ground, tethered to the earth. His irritation rises.

For a moment he is so fully preoccupied with his current predicament that he almost misses the spectacle before him. Almost. His pale figure is half covered in shadows, sticking to one of the few sparse trees in the open snowdrifts. A soft mist hangs above his lips as he exhales, red eyes glowing. Looking very much a winter ghost in the icy landscape. Curved lobes slowly swivel forward as his smoldering gaze lands on the girl. An unremarkable stallion is addressing her and she doesn’t seem to be pleased by his attention. Her words are loud enough to carry to him, loud enough to catch the bite of agitation. He is already in motion, ambling towards them, as her protests become hotter and angrier.

He has no intention of intruding, he was merely planning on being an observer. Free show and all that. However the moment she screams at him, the blue of her eyes seeming to flash, the stallion’s muscles seem to spasm. A cloud shadows his face, clouds his eyes as if unseeing. And without another word, the stallion has done an about face and left. Exactly as she had asked. Even his retreat is odd, stiff. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he hadn’t seen the stallion’s face. The blankness. Magic. He is sure of it.

The soft swish of his tail against his haunches might pull her attention towards him. He waits till he is noticed, a hungry look in the depths of red. ”Now how did you do that… He wonders aloud, his grin rather wolfish as he eyes the foal. Taking in the odd emerald stripe that runs along her backside. What kind of secrets was she hiding within her tan flesh? In this case he doesn’t want to pry her apart, break her bones. If she can do what he thinks she can do, then she would be more valuable alive then dead.

a ghost in the darkness.

She was young which made her foolish. Mixed with the heady rush of power, she feels untouchable even as her energy wanes. Mistakes were bound to be made, mistakes will make her weak to him and yet mistakes will help her grow. Most look at him with uncertainty, something about the wraith made their skin crawl. If they were normal that is. She was not one of them, her curiosity matching his own. Crimson embers smolder thoughtfully on the filly as she admits she’s unsure what happened. What she did.

The Taiga ghost has made it his life’s work to familiarize himself with the many powers that float about Beqanna. It could be witchcraft, it could be poison, it could be a thousand different things. All he knows for sure is that he wants to add it to his collection. She innocently dangles the need to practice before him and his own wolfish grin responds. Her first mistake. Silly child.

”I suppose you do…” He muses aloud, his gaze remaining thoughtful. ”And how will you go about it I wonder? Better yet, what happens when you can’t control it?” He continues to speak as he slowly edges closer to her. ”What if it backfires? What if it ends up killing you?” The last sentence ending in a low hushed growl, a threat threaded within his question. ”What you need more than practice is a mentor.” An offer that hangs in the air between them.