04-06-2021, 04:57 PM
BAD
Bad grew up in darkness, and now that it is banished, he is unsure what to do with himself. It hurts, at first. He’d grown so used to seeing through the hound’s eyes, relying on its sharper senses, that when the light breaks through it seems to scorch across his vision and sends him hurrying into the trees, to whatever scraps of shadow he can find. It takes an embarrassingly long time before he thinks to shift his senses back, to be wholly horse instead of some hybrid thing. He does so, and it is easier, at least a little, though he still finds himself missing the dark.
He pulls fog around himself. It is not the same as darkness, but it is something, a thin layer of obscurity.
(He had not known he’d had this power until later. Until he’d been alone in the dark – always in the dark – and the fog had curled around him, and he’d thought move, and it had. He’d felt so like a god, then.)
He looks out. It astounds him, how many others there are. It’s different, to see them in such brightness, the myriad of colors and sizes and accoutrement. Disorienting, too.
He closes his orange eyes, breathes in, out. Steadies himself. He’s lived like this once before, he can do it again.
does the dark feel warmer than the light, now?