07-24-2016, 06:51 PM
Gun only knows Caw.
She is a black and bossy thing, but he follows her anyway.
Follows her on her odd journey through the kingdoms and listens to her talk about legends.
The more he looks at her, the more he thinks she looks like a legend. She is a storm contained in the flesh, the way her skin sparks like lightning rolling along the underbellies of clouds. Gun half expects to hear thunder come snorting from her nostrils or from the stamp of her hoof against the dirt. Neither happens, though the colt has not squared himself in expectation of much - why should she harm him? Why should she want to, besides him being a tad more inquisitive than he ought to be…
She greets him and asks him a question that causes him to tilt his head to one side. Gun never really thought of himself as alone. Granted, he never thought of himself as kin to wind and sky like some of them do, or friend to bunny and bird. He was just a colt, and he only knew Caw and she instantly came to mind. He did not know the others by name or scent, that tagged along in her ragtag band of little ones and he supposed they mattered not because Caw led them. So naturally, he said the only thing that he could - “I’m not alone.” Except he is but Gun doesn’t know why or how that came to be. It never occurred to him that there should be a mother lurking nearby to keep an eye on him or an ear out for any trouble he might get into.
“I can’t really be alone if I’m right here with you,” he points out, taking a step closer to peer at the sparks on her skin. That intrigues him, probably because he has never encountered anything like it in his short life. Gun knows that he is staring and staring is rude, but Gun doesn’t care. “Does it hurt?” To touch, to be touched, he wonders; his nose hovers close then pulls away - he won’t touch, but the lightning that flickers across her silvery skin is a conundrum to him. It should not exist but it does - she does, and he is not overly awed. It would take something greater than that to truly shock him, maybe because Gun’s repressed whatever trauma he’s had to endure to become this thing she mentions, this alone.
She is a black and bossy thing, but he follows her anyway.
Follows her on her odd journey through the kingdoms and listens to her talk about legends.
The more he looks at her, the more he thinks she looks like a legend. She is a storm contained in the flesh, the way her skin sparks like lightning rolling along the underbellies of clouds. Gun half expects to hear thunder come snorting from her nostrils or from the stamp of her hoof against the dirt. Neither happens, though the colt has not squared himself in expectation of much - why should she harm him? Why should she want to, besides him being a tad more inquisitive than he ought to be…
She greets him and asks him a question that causes him to tilt his head to one side. Gun never really thought of himself as alone. Granted, he never thought of himself as kin to wind and sky like some of them do, or friend to bunny and bird. He was just a colt, and he only knew Caw and she instantly came to mind. He did not know the others by name or scent, that tagged along in her ragtag band of little ones and he supposed they mattered not because Caw led them. So naturally, he said the only thing that he could - “I’m not alone.” Except he is but Gun doesn’t know why or how that came to be. It never occurred to him that there should be a mother lurking nearby to keep an eye on him or an ear out for any trouble he might get into.
“I can’t really be alone if I’m right here with you,” he points out, taking a step closer to peer at the sparks on her skin. That intrigues him, probably because he has never encountered anything like it in his short life. Gun knows that he is staring and staring is rude, but Gun doesn’t care. “Does it hurt?” To touch, to be touched, he wonders; his nose hovers close then pulls away - he won’t touch, but the lightning that flickers across her silvery skin is a conundrum to him. It should not exist but it does - she does, and he is not overly awed. It would take something greater than that to truly shock him, maybe because Gun’s repressed whatever trauma he’s had to endure to become this thing she mentions, this alone.