the Rift

[OPEN] rich god; hatching

Phobos Posts: 2
Colt :: Unicorn :: 16.3hh :: baby
Kyros :: White Ethiopian Lion :: None dark
and i'm gonna keep it one-hunda,
biting down, 'bout to rip my tongue off
I am given too much freedom, too much time on my own - the world around me is vast and empty, full of things that are too much but so small and insignificant in comparison to the godly conflict happening before us. It is almost eerie the emptiness, the way the clouds seem to carry the darkness, the godless reality that has settled over the world I've only come to know for a moment. It is hectic and silent all the same, nothing seems to be right, air always a little too heavy, always a little sluggish - always numb.

It almost doesn't come across my mind at first, the way I feel so little, the distance set between the world and I, how little it bothers me when my skin snags against a stray branch or the way my shoulder might scrape against rough bark - it will bleed, but only that and nothing more, I do not wince and sputter the way I see others do when they bump something or scratch something. I begin to consider that I am far different than I initially accept, that there is something off about me as I witness once again another damaged animal, a hobbling fox, clever and sly with a limp leg that I know will hinder its performance. I observe, because that's what I'm good at these days - a passive presence inflicting paranoia and uncertainty in the hearts of others, whether it is simply my attitude or something more that makes them cower, I do not know.

I watch the petite red fox, slighted ears picking up the way it pads silently despite it's obvious damage, insisting that it needs to speed up if it's to get to its destination, taking flight as it races through underbrush and bursts out into a clearing; an open field lays before me, a sea of tall grasses that sway against the wind, engulfing the fox as I trot behind it. I keep it within sight, blue eyes locked onto the injured creature as it scans the area, missing my dark hide as it bends forward to snatch up whatever lies near the base of a tree. I creep as best I a child can, spying a dip in the ground full of soft grasses and tucked away beneath a tree - it's a nest, abandoned and eerily silent as the fox sniffs around the eggshells. There is all but one egg remaining, the rest having hatched and gone forward into life with no regard to the single, lone child left behind. I think of my sister, her distance and unwillingness - of my mother and her emptiness, her dissipation into her own little world contained within her mind. I think of myself, of Him, of his own reservations and silences, prolonged and cruel as though he expects to be torturous with his quiet.

I blink as darkness consumes the area, the fox long since having taken off as I continue to stand a ways away from the nest, coming to the realization that something much more threatening than a broken animal has been caught by the orbit of this emptied nest - what a lucky egg this is, catching the attention of something that swallows the sun itself and screams so loud that the ground beneath my hooves shake. I look to it, watching a giant crow descend upon the nest, dwarfing the fox I'd just been following with it's godlike wingspan and beady red eyes that settle on the lone egg. It's beak is reaching, planning to snatch the pale, blotchy egg sitting among remnants of its brethren. But it never reaches it, because I am rushing forward.

It is not out of a passion to protect that has my new body moving, but greed, it is a willingness to destroy and be successful at it, to fight against something so beastly and come out victorious - perhaps it is the godless world that brings out the feral in animals, the wild of whatever this creature is, but I am raging before it with my numb, offenseless body. I can sense my foolishness, the confidence that lessens as the giant corvus turns to me with beak wide open in an blood curling scream. I furrow my brows and scream back, if I knew how to swear and had better formed sentences, I would be cursing this bird for thinking it had a right to take what I already had eyes on. It is charging forward, swooping in on midnight wings and fury, beak snapping and eyes burning against my skin as I face it.  What I find to my left, almost by sheer luck, is a black sword shining under grey skies, reflecting the rage hidden behind the eyes of the massive bird.

I am scooping it up with almost eagerness, retracting it from the side of its sheath as I stand awkwardly with the heavy metal tilting my head too far one way, the crow upon me now as I thrust the sword towards the creature, an amateur swipe that does nothing but leave me stumbling. It's frustration in my own eyes now, spitting the sword out from between my lips as nothing gets the job done until - cruising so swiftly from nowhere comes a long streak of pointed bronze and dark wood, surrounded by curling smoke and ferocity, piercing the skull of the crow with a clean swipe. The beast falls to my hooves, entrance and exit wound sizzling with whispers of the same black smoke that encases the tip of the spear, which has come to rest at my side. It's almost as though it is whispering to me, beckoning me to take ownership of its fatal existence, settled beside the sword I'd abandoned out of cowardice inability, I could not wield it how I wished and let it slide.

I look over the body of the crow, spitting hot acid on the face of the bird in the form of my own little swears - I kick its limp head and watch it roll over slightly, scrunching my nose in disgust at the burn wounds left by the rogue spear. How sickening, I conclude before I return to the sheath the sword had abandoned, reuniting the two pieces before placing the all too large item over my own petite body. The spear has pursued me, slipping between the leather straps of the sheath and my body, left to drag against the ground as I move on and approach the egg.

To my own fear surprise, I find a crack splitting the egg in half, sharp and jarring, the egg trembles and breaks further - I am impatiently watching, both expecting something fantastic if it draws such attention, and something weak, full of cowardice if it's entire family has fled from the nest, too impatient to wait for the final child. It is He instead, who witnesses the birth of the Last, the final child born in a godless hell, just as I was - I watch the cracks spreading until the shell is falling apart and out of it comes spilling a small, white bundle. It's petite and useless, it's plain and bland and the disappointment is consuming, overwhelming as blue settles on the newborn with disinterest. But I cannot peel my eyes from him, cursed to remain at the child's side, to grow up with him even though I know that the world will not let us grow closer than we already are - strangers, uninterested, uncaring, we will be one, but He will always be himself, never more than Him, there is no other soul entwined with his. The child is weak and small, less than I will want him to be, now and forever as I seal the bond I will hate, the bond that will burn deep in the pits of my being until one of us perishes. "Kyros." To the tiny, fair cub and the future He has with it.

just bo finding all his junk, decked out baby. tldr; magic spear basically saves his ass from some random giant crow which he stupidly tries to fight with a tiny 2ft sword that he can barely hold bc hes a Baby, accessorizes and then realizes the egg is cracked, to which Kyros spills out

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