Paint spattered teardrops on my shirt (Herds or Valley)

[Fennick]

Fennick had not gotten much wiser (mores the pity for his home), nor had he matured much as the years ticked by. He had, however, learned to laugh at himself. Everyone else had been laughing at him for his whole life, is it was about time he joined in. It gave him something to do, rather than stand stiffly and uncomfortably. Bad jokes and self deprecation, the tension diffusers of the truly socially stunted.

It worked wonders.

Luckily, Tabithi didn’t create a lot of tension. He didn’t feel pressure to be perfect, or to say the right things, it was a rare feeling, and he had another smile for her.

“You’re a generous host then, or else your expectations are too low. Both work in my favor.” This much was true. There were few greater gifts than the white lies we tell our friends and acquaintances to make them believe we don’t think them truly bizarre. It was called the social contract. Fennick was a big believer of it in theory, in practice he often failed to live up to it. 

She moved a little closer to him and now Fennick really did feel like an ass for keeping her standing around chatting in the cold. He scooted so he was parallel with her and lifted the great black wings a little higher, better to block the cold.

“Don’t be sorry, everyone keeps telling me to make myself useful. Now if I fail the Valley’s högerhand I’ll have a promising career as a wind stop.” Perhaps, if he worked really hard, he would come to be as effective as a large boulder. If he was telling the truth, Fennick spent a great deal of time as a large boulder. His powers of cellular replication came at a price. He turned into stone when he slept. It was a little awkward, to say the least. 

Fennick nodded slightly as she spoke about flying. It was a truly unique sensation. Before Fennick had his own wings, he would take the shape of a hawk, or whatever bird was flying overhead. At first the rush and dip of the wind made him sick, now it felt more natural.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get to fly some day. I wasn’t born with wings, or with my other ability.” Nope, Fennick had been born a regular joe, and through a series of unexpected events came to possess a variety of skills he had no business wielding. He was contemplating the strangeness of life when she spoke of staying in Beqanna, and Fennick brightened.

“Well, if you stay in the Field you won’t get a moment’s peace. There are all sorts of strange men wandering around out here.” The big stallion grinned, knowing full well that he fit the description of a “strange man” and was, in fact, probably one of the strangest she was likely to encounter. Still, undeterred, he continued.

“If you like, I could show you my home.” Fennick couldn’t promise his home would be any less strange or any warmer than the Field. For starters, it was usually colder, being in the mountains. The residents were another matter. Yet, as unpredictable as they could be, they also had a way of growing on you.