SO RICH, SO PRETTY
The Mothers were tending to the younger children, though most of them needed no looking after. Their Father had gone from this world, at least in spirit, had crossed over into the next plane. All that was left was the Iron statue, a shell of the giant, just something to look at now. One day, they would all achieve his greatness, be rewarded with a place at his side, if they could please him. Father wasn’t necessarily hard to please, at least not for most of his children. He liked the dark creatures, the ones prone to revel in despair and violence. Those that enjoyed inflicting pain on others, males, and those that were traited.
Their Father liked his special ones, and now they lived to please him, to carry on his onslaught to the weak and broken. Mother and Branka (also Mother now) had ascended having been the closest to Khaos. They all looked to them for the base of their teachings, the lines of their path, the works they could perform to please their Father. Silver Cove had been relinquished to the Children, overseen by his Father’s two favored mares.
Kirin was flying over the cliffs, wheeling about on thermal air currents, using his powerful breast muscles to thrust into the skies. He was all spectacle, having mastered the talent of flight, the use of his wings. The colt was the only one gifted with flight, with command of the skies. They seemed to each have their own talents, their own uses. He was a pretty boy, a deep eggplant purple that had begun to fade away into a violet. The effect was marbled, spanning over his crown and back, even his wings. The soft feathers would molt, the new growth peppering back in place with the lighter shades, creating a subtlety to his jeweled bodice. His Father would likely be pleased, (if he were still on this plane of life) he had never liked the astounding, vivid purple his winged son was born with. Kirin didn’t mind, so long as he stayed beautiful, so long as he was desired physically, able to lure in prey for his play things.
It was a blessing their youngest sister, Nicia, had inherited a form of their Father’s glory. The girl possessed iron shifting, and without hesitation they rallied around the fawn. She held the magic in place, sealed the Cove to them, the Children. The winged son was intent on gathering the others here, where they should be, their true home. He wanted to find them, all of them, and drag them back. With him, with his little brother, with their sister Nicia, and the Mothers. The place everything had begun, the final home and resting place of their Father. Khaos. Hazel gray eyes spotted the buckskin female, he curled down towards the earth, landing with a soft thump against the ground.
@[Nicia]