ORIGIN - Symptoms of a Sickness

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The black foal had not been in Polaris all that long. Booker had brought him here, and now he had slipped off to explore on his own for just a bit. He wouldn't go far, but the gentle rushing of the river attracted his curiosity.

Hooves tapped gently on stone as the near-skeletal, dull-coated equine made his way slowly to the rocky banks, his short-furred tail swishing to and fro. Small, delicate nose neared the water as his thin neck extended. Sharp-ribbed sides heaved with breath, and glowing sickly yellow-green eyes regarded Khloros's own reflection in the water.

The ripples disrupted it, but it was enough for him to see himself for the first time. Dully curious, and nothing more, Khloros turned his head and body this way and that, eyeing his own appearance. He was near emaciated, bony and without a scrap of meat or fat on him. His dull coat seemed matted here and there, and he wasn't quite sure what the drying liquid was. It wasn't blood.

With a soft whicker, the foal leaned down again to drink his fill from the river, tail still swishing lightly behind him.

I will look at this, and then I will go and look at the buzzy-crystal again but up closer, and... and then I'll just explore.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

Polaris was his kingdom and the spire was his throne. Elk hooves gently clipped against the ground as Rafael walked on. This time, he took care to bring his hind limbs up and down gently such that nothing but tinkling, delightful sounds accompanied his perfect, swaying movements towards the stream. Grey eyes looked at the area softly, a glimmer of moonshine seeming to dance across his gaze as the reflections from glittering quartz bounced off his features. It was an agreeable day – everything was peaceful and calm. Not a day that called for the delightful shrieks of a tortured prey. With a soft huff, the peryton headed leisurely towards the crystal river for a drink. A soft whicker filled the air suddenly – that of a young and raspy gembound, it held an iridescent quality that thrilled Rafael. Like me he mused in his mind and immediately loped along. He saw the foal then – emaciated with matted hairs, flowing eyes and a gentle voice. Yes, Rafael thought as he looked upon the young gembound, he was perfect and as about wretched as he was.

Rafael slowed to a gentle halt before the foal and nickered to him in greeting. He lowered his head and peered at the boy. Nearing 2 cycles, Rafael was large and just about the size of an adult deer in stark comparison to the foal. The gargoyle didn’t have intentions to hurt him though. Too precious. "What’s your name, young ‘un?” he spoke up, his own raspy voice matching a shade of quality of the ebony foal's tone.

The click of hooves sounded behind him and he lifted his head, moving backwards a couple of still-clumsy paces so that he could turn and face whoever approached.

He stared at what he saw, for a moment: tall, winged, with strange antlers growing atop its head. And it was asking for his name. He blinked his large and glowing eyes for a moment, glancing away and then back to Rafael, as if rather uncertain whether or not he was real. Then he spoke, voice empty, as if he were only whispering very loudly.

"Khloros," the very young Gembound answered, taking a couple of tottering, hesitant steps closer. "Who are you?"

And what is he?

The foal exhaled loudly, blowing through flared nostrils in thought and greeting, and came closer. He moved up toward Rafael's side to inspect the feathers, the hooves--something about it didn't go together, to him, but he wasn't experienced enough, yet, to know why. He just knew that this creature was different.

Thin neck extended, and the horse tried to brush his soft muzzle over the feathers, to know them as much by touch as by eye, curious. Would they be soft, or harsh and stiff? He shook his mane, and peered to Rafael, pondering everything about him.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

Dove grey eyes latched onto the little, weary body of the foal as he blinked his glowing eyes, looked away, then back at him. After introducing himself, the foal moved forward to his side which he did not mind. They shall crowd around me. To imprint among young gembounds and pick out a successor – that was one of his dreams. The peryton suppressed a chuckle as the foal inhaled his scent and checked him out, gentle rubbery lips reaching upwards to check his feathers. It tickled a little. Humouring the young boy, Rafael ruffled up his feathers a little by shaking his wings slightly, allowing the adornments to flutter and excite the foal. Meantime, he took a step to the left and curled his body around, forming a protective wall around Khloros. The peryton then leaned in his elkish head and looked rather gently upon the emaciated gembound. He’d grow up like him…a physical reject of society, no matter how wonderful his heart could be.

"Rafael. I am as imperfect as you are. Just as you are too thin and fragile with glowing eyes, boy,” and here he let out a huff and brushed his muzzle against the dark black fuzzy neck of the foal for a brief moment before sweeping away, "I am a wretched creation according to the normal ones. An elk and a bird, you can call me a peryton.” He lapsed into silence, then brought his crown of antlers into the sky and tilting it back with pride, looked down upon the foal almost benovently. "But in this wretchedness never, never forget…” here, he lowered his muzzle to touch the boy’s chest where his heart would be located, "We are special. You are special to me, champion.” He would withdraw then and consider the boy carefully, gauging his response.

Khloros listened, ears swivelling as he leaned forward to peer over the newly-ruffled feathers. They stuck out more, now, and he gently nibbled on one to test its texture--and then released, looking up as his new friend circled to half-curl around him.

He pondered Rafael's words, their meaning--or at least the meanings he understood--striking his young and impressionable mind like a hammer to a gong. But there were some things he didn't understand. He wasn't yet aware that his illness made him all that different; that his plague and blight should, by all rights, doom him to exile, a filthy outcast that others would shy from. No, Booker had treated him like an equal, and a friend--and this concept made him think. Rafael lightly nudged his neck, and he didn't mind; without a mother figure, his instinct was to latch onto and follow whoever was vaguely the correct shape and size. Vaguely was used loosely even now, but the peryton had four legs and was big, and seemed friendly, and so Khloros was (also for lack of knowing any better) perfectly at ease.

"Rafael." He tried the name, and it sounded right; it sounded how he'd have called the strange creature. "Rafael. You don't look... wretched. I am imperfect?" he added, youthful eyes wide. Was there something wrong with him? And then the other thing the peryton had said struck him--yes, peryton, that's what he'd called himself, right?--and he questioned that, too.

"Champ-i-on?"

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

The peryton pawed the earth gently and flicked his black-rimmed ears as the foal tested his name and questioned him. Rafael nodded approvingly and tilted his head to the side, considering Khloros as the boy replied him very literately. This one was a fast developer. He’d give him a nudge in the right direction then. "Alas,” he replied softly, "I am.” Here, he paused and gave a reply to the foal’s second question. "By average yes, your ribs stick out Khloros. Most horses would have fuller bodies. We do not have glowing eyes as well.” The peryton put it in a very nice manner, not wishing to harm the child in seeing the reality from an older gembound’s eyes. Because he knew imagination worked the best. He paused, allowing these truths to sink in, before continuing, this time brushing the mane right down pat against the foal’s neck tenderly. "Yes, child. Some things are not worthy of you. You are better than the rest. Never forget that.” The peryton gazed at the dark horse. It was precisely that this young child may not have posed a threat, that gembounds would be happy to mingle with him. He cursed them inwardly. Cowards. "They will grovel to the powerful. But power does not always come in title.” He shook his neck then, and turned away to get a drink by the stream, lapping up the cool aqua.

Khloros moved to the water, peering in for a long and quiet moment. Pondering.

He did have glowing eyes. Was he skinnier than others? It didn't bother him all that much, but he did wonder what it meant. He turned his head to peer up at Rafael. The second half of what the peryton said made little sense to him--grovel? Power? Title? But the first, that piqued his curiosity. What did Rafael mean by saying he was better than others, more worthy?

"Better...? How? And--worthy...?"

His was the stuttering mildness born of innocence, and he peered up at Rafael, once again expecting the Peryton to have all of the answers. Well--it had been him who had said all of this, after all.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

The black foal continued asking him questions. Rafael drank a little more, then lifted his muzzle with a sigh and cast his gaze upon Khloros, dove grey eyes filled a glimmer. "We are different. Look at the gembounds around you,” he spoke, "and you’ll notice that their design may be replicated. We may see three lions, a couple horses, a few ravens. But Khloros, you and I however, have unique physical bodies. The creators have called us to be different. We are set apart, we are more than those around us.” He sat down now, curling his limbs to his body and chest in elk-fashion, and beckoned for Khloros to draw near to him and take a seat. "Always know what you’re dealing with, dark one.” He then lapsed into silence. It was rare for him to speak so much – perhaps, he only spoke this much to impressionable young minds who could not discern for themselves yet the full entirety of his words. Rafael would not teach the other of his sadistic delights – but rather, the other could yield his innocence to win the hearts of many and strike back when he needed to. Yes, they were the same. Wretched, creatures, set apart in magnificent glory to rule this cave from beneath, providing balance to this otherwise trigger-happy bunch who hatched here.

Khloros listened some more, then tottered over once Rafael had curled up. He sniffed over Rafael's wings, curious, and unless the Peryton asked him not to or otherwise stopped him, he'd spend some time nibbling gently--with lips, not teeth--along their edges, feeling them. He spoke, between.

"Creators?" he asked, at first, simply. He looked to Rafael, then continued, words stuttering with his faltering thoughts, language still very new to him. "Who? Did they create both? All? Why... different? What for? What am... am I for? What..." he coughed slightly, pulling away instinctively so it didn't spray all over his new friend.

Then he looked back to Rafael, slowly blinking his large and glowing eyes.

"What are... you for?"

Abruptly--in the way of young things, stirring with sudden energy--he turned, leaping and bounding around Rafael, hooves clattering on the rock as he awaited his answers.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

The peryton tilted his antlered crown towards Khloros' direction and gazed at him. "You have to discover these secrets for yourself boy." His raspy voice trailed forth. He looked around the cave, admiring the low glimmer for a moment. Then, he spread his wings and gave it two flaps. "Well then." Not intending to give the dark foal all the answers, he launched himself into the air and flew away, leaving the dark colt to do as he pleased.

-Exit Rafael-

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