Don't my steal characters,their mates and offsprings unless willing to plot.
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Senior
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Post by The Quiet One on May 31, 2023 15:12:14 GMT -7
Prompt: Belial had awful parents Timeline: Age of 2 Prompt: 574 (wanted to do more but tiredness prevailed)
A clap of thunder rumbled through the blackened sky, piercing the atmosphere with a sudden clarity that had muscles twitching beneath rain soaked fur. For the yearling, it was not his first time experiencing a storm. This time was different, however. For days the burn ha grown, the pounding in his head had become more intense. The tri-coloured yearling had practically been able to taste the steady pulse in the throats of those he was surrounded by. For one such as himself, who had never fitted in and had been practically shunned since birth, it was difficult not to lash out. With each passing day it felt as if he was slowly losing his grip on his own sanity. The maddening sensation of seemingly losing control had led to a few close calls over the past week, where his usual tormentors had pushed a bit too far and something had snapped as a result. The near scuffles had only served to increase the need to keep as much distance between him and the rest of the herd as possible. It was distance not always respected, however, If it wasn’t his tormentors ignoring it then it was his birth mother.
Another clap of thunder has his thoughts scattering, muscles twitching once more even as this due toned optics glance to the herd in question. Having claimed the available shelter at the first signs of rain they did not have to endure the storm out in the open. Thankfully, for the yearling, the temperatures were not too cold yet for it to be seriously threatening. He had enough reserves to handle it. As the hours ticked by the storm began to wander and with it so did the downpour. As the rain lessened, the rest of the herd begun to wander from their shelter choosing nearby areas for grazing. Thankfully for the yearling no one seemed to interested in bothering him. The peace and quiet doesn’t last too long, however. It never did. A figure peels off from the others their path aiming directly for the yearling. Even with the distance between them, and the lack of light, there is no mistaking their build nor movements. His birth mother. The two had never gotten on, although not for lack of trying from the yearling. From as early as he could remember, his birth mother had seem disgusted by him. Disappointed. Harsh. Downright cruel sometimes in ht pleasure she took from humiliating him.
The yearling had never understood it. To begin with he had desperately tried to please her, to prove himself to her. When it had not worked the self-loathing had kicked in. It was self-loathing that had turned to feelings of hatred and resentment towards the mare that had birthed him. The yearling had no one else, however. He had only met the creature that was meant to be his sire once before, but it had been brief leaving more questions with it. If he was being honest with himself, the yearling doubted he would see the stallion again. Which left him with his mother, for the time being. The yearling was not to know that even she would be leaving him much earlier then expected, however. He was not to know that when the sun came to rise again he would have a belly fully of her blood, and her broken corpse left behind him as fate forced him to forge a new path.
"Speech"
"Other's speech"
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