[private] waking up to ash and dust

[Larrikin]

The snow makes playing hide-and-seek easier, and yet Larikin can convince none of his siblings to play with him. They all have better things to do on this bright winter afternoon, so Larrikin stomps a little more dramatically than necessary as he makes his way out of Sylva and into the bare-branched Forest. His shaggy winter coat is warm, and the texture of it hides much of his distinctive markings. He’s just a black colt with some white markings along his topline – there is no sign of the spotted cheetah pattern nor the glowing lavender constellations that they hide within the white. It’s almost like he’s wearing a costume, Larrikin thinks to himself, but maybe still a little too obvious.

Color ripples across his coat, so quick as to be nauseating (or so Nota had said), and settle on a black so dark it seems to swallow light itself.

Vanta black is almost as dark as his soul, thinks Larrikin with intensely theatrical emotion, it shows off the true darkness within him.

The drifts are deeper here, probably due to the bare canopy, but the black thespian stomps through them with melodramatic determination. The quiet little huffs of his breath are probably a little louder than they need to be, and his not-blue eyes search furtively for an audience. There is none though, and Larrikin is as alone in the Forest as he had been at home in Sylva.

He sighs, loud and in a way he considers to be quite sensational while also still super sad, and looks up at the open grey sky.

@[Squirt]