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Both prompts and replies. They basicly jsut feed off each other, no real change in personality besides maturing, between each. ^^ Hope you enjoy them at least.

Foal:
Since emerging from the basket you have known nothing but darkness; a mother who despises you and a father who views you as little more than an object to be manipulated to his whims, used as a tool against your mother. Upon first introduction to Diabetia by your father she snarls and attacks. In order to put her back in her place Plague steps in to keep her at bay. How do you react to this? What are your thoughts?



Cold…His father’s gaze, the feeling of his mother’s obvious detest. Then again he couldn’t blame her entirely, having to put up with the b*****d who he called father. Of course she wasn’t the sweetest thing either. The young foal never stopped to think these thoughts were advanced, morbid, to evil for a child as young as him to think. He simply thought them. If anything the thanked his father for brains. Spotting a pair of foals as they darted in play, the few times he had escaped from the watch of the stallion, he sneered at their ignorance. He was small, he was young, but he was not a foal, he believed. He was not ignorant. Even if his father didn’t even realize this. However like a foal, total rejection hurt, especially when it was from the mother he had hoped would treat him better. That day had been horrible…horrible indeed. And the little devil child knew something about being horrible.

It had been a pleasant day. Chasing and killing a few of the rats what clung to his father like the hair that was always coming off. Sneak off, and scare those pitiful foals from that “happy” family. Kill a little bunny for lunch. A good day in his eyes. Until his father called to him, the stallions deep voice always demanding respect, and instant attentiveness. He learned that his first day out of his basket. So he came, and question the powerful creature what he was needed for. “You will meet your mother today.” Was the only reply as he lead the foal to what he was sure to be his certain doom. He never questioned about her, he didn’t care. Obviously she wasn’t fond of him if she wasn’t around. However upon seeing her he had to keep from sneering. She was beautiful. A magnificent Kalona. But the pinks and purples were so overpowering…His eyes ached from the bright light on her bright body.

He listened with mild interest as she and his Father spoke. However the moment he was spotted she suddenly snarled, and lunged at the “innocent” foal. “Innocent” his flank. He jumped back, flaring and snarling back. Who was she to try and attack him! However his father’s reaction startled him. Protecting him? Well maybe it wasn’t as it seemed. It defiantly couldn’t be as it seemed. He wasn’t cared for that much, not even close to love. Protecting his possessions, that must be all his father would do. He wasn’t stupid…he knew he was a tool, a toy, a piece of property for his father to dispose of at his will. Much like, at this little display, his mother must be, or was. And obviously she must blame him for any misery she currently held. Stupid, stupid mare. To weak and to stupid to get away. Under the large stallion’s hoof like one of the many rats, the dirt…and like himself, for now. But once he grew, he would get away. He would not be a slave to his father, nor his mother. His family…they hated him…and he hated them.

Stupid, Stupid Father…Stupid, Stupid Mother. You are my pawns…and my pawns alone.

Adult:

Freedom at last! Or is it? Your childhood is something that will continue to haunt you for the rest of your life. It has formed you into the creature that you are today for better or worst. Upon meeting your mother again now that you're older how do you react to her? What, if anything, do you say? Do you blame her for the way that you've turned out or, in her absence, is it all the fault of your father?



Year, years it seemed since he had first left the wing of his dictator like father. Even more still since he last saw his mother, choosing not to associate with the mare who had birthed him, but did him no more then that. What mother, no matter the breed, despised their son to the point they would attack, try and kill, upon their first meeting? So he hated her with the passion. However as he grew, as he became wiser still to the world; observing, for that was his specialty, the actions of the stallion he feared, admired, and detested, he grew to feel…love? No, love was not the right word. He felt no love for his family. Not a drop for his siblings, which he never interacted with. Not a drop for his Mother, who was to weak, in his eyes, to stand up and leave the presence of his father. Not a drop for his Father, who had shadowed his childhood, destroying his life, but also shaping him to be a talented observer, and to be able to see the faults of the “happier” horses he watched, or ate. Though he wasn’t to fond of horse. A dear, a rabbit, or one of those retched rats his father had trailing him, was far sweeter. Especially those rats, being as he could act as if he was eating his father’s horrid flesh, imagine the bones cracking under foot, the squeals of pain as he slowly died. Alas, however, his father was alive and well. So much for dreams.

And yet…his mother. He did not love her, as aforementioned, but he did not hate her as he did as a child, or a younger adult. He felt...sorry for her, pity really. Pity for the fact he did not think she could ever break free of his father. Pity that the mare was doomed to live a life of being nothing more then a worthless toy, one day to be killed mercilessly. Then again no doubt by then she would be begging for it. But he could not understand WHY she did not leave, why she seemed unable to. He had. Not easily, and he had to use his observations to get him as far from his home as possible, even...well not hiding exactly…more like tricking, a human and mare until he was sure his father was not following him. But now, he stayed near the forest, an easy distance to the mountains to were his favorite game was.

It was on such a day, as he contemplated his relationship with his family, his life as a child, and his feelings for the mother who seemed to detest him more then he believed he deserved, that who would appear but the said mare. At first he was startled. A bit angry for not noticing her approach, and then discussed at her appearance. Still as sickening sweet as before. Pink…on a Kalona…it just didn’t work. However he lifted his head high, a smart, air of defiance about him. One he did not realize he picked up from his mother. “Mother.” He said shortly with a curt nod of his head. “What, pray tell, are you doing so far from Father?” There was half a sneer in his voice, but no emotion on his face.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing so far from your father?” She asked back, the same defiance. She would not take this from the son of that b*****d. She would not be shown up, she would not take it. “Hiding, little boy, from the big bad papa?” She did not fear him. He had never shown any of the aggression his father held. Snide remarks, a ruthless hunter at times, but no aggression towards her. Why would that change now?

“Taking to insulting your own son, Mother? Honestly, how sad.” He moved, begging to circle his mother, eyes watching her intently. She was a bit thin, he noted, then when he last saw her. Not much, not really noticeable. His father must be taking her kills again. The b*****d had a habit of such offences, even from himself. When his Father wanted something, his Father got it, no question. “And you did not answer my question. I’m tempted to believe you are ignoring it for a reason.” He smirked. “Stupid, Stupid mother…”

Diabetia lashed out at the son who stood before her. “Don’t you dare say that, you insolent brat!” She snarled. Plague said that often. That exact phrase! The little twerp was asking for it. She advanced on him, wings spread. She could never take Plague. She knew that. So why not the next best thing. The son of him.

With one swift kick he slide back, laughing. “Pathetic, not only are you sickeningly pink, such a sweet color, but your aim is horrible.” Ok, so she had hit him, and it did hurt a bit, hooves were not soft after all, but he wasn’t about to fall from one kick from the old mare. “Come now Mother, you’ll have to try harder then that to erase your mistakes…”

However suddenly a smell reached his nose. Hers, too, by the look on her face. Crap. His father. She had led him right to him! Weather or not she meant to he did not stick around to ask. Within moments he was gone, easily moving through the forest he called home. He would not be dragged back like his mother before him. He was stronger then that.

Stupid Mother...Stupid, Stupid Mother.

Oo *remembers* ^^

Is there a length limit to this? *Couldn't find it on the front page* ^^;








HAI! You found an Easter Egg!!!!

19. Look at it oddly, it will spell out a word…. What is the word that 993 spells out?

We haven't set any limit for length of the entries.

Yeah snarl all you like, horrid mare. Well of course the little colt wasn’t going to say that out loud and give the mare but another reason to attack him. But none the less, he held his ground from behind his “Father”. Ok so neither of them was to his approval but he could leave yet. His “Father” used him he had noticed that, but he was too young to fully understand it. Glancing around the colt pranced in his place, he wanted to do some things. Maybe he could run over and try and bite the horrid mare. No, that would put him to close. And he was knew enough to protect himself by using his father just this once.

Letting out something between neigh and a grumble, the little colt spread out his wings. To him it was like puffing himself out, he had seen a frog do it once. It had made the frog bigger. And that’s what he needed to be bigger. The bigger he was the better he could back at the mare right. Back at both of them. They hadn’t even cared to name him, his thoughts turned at that moment. Sure the colt had never been happy go lucky, that was all but beaten out of his mind by his “Father” the instant he left his basket. But he had never been vicious either. But now his thoughts turned to some thing evil, he wanted them dead both of them. Stupid mare, stupid “father”, he would get them both.

And with that he charged forward skipping under Plague towards Diabetia. Nipping at the mare’s flanks with a growl, the little colt stomp his front hooves down before retreating to safety behind Plague.

Mother. Father. Two words that should have meant the world to him, but did not. 'Mother' meant weakness, pure and simple. If he behaved like 'Mother', he would feel the rush of hooves and teeth. Strong words would chastise him, and he would remember that 'Father' was the word that was most important to his survival. 'Father' meant many things, the most important of which was 'master', strength. Dimly, he knew that his words were not the words of others, that his views were different, strange. However, his understanding of them was vital. He must know the difference between them, and he must seek to follow his father.

His sire was difficult to impress. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure that it was possible to impress him. But he would certainly try, if it meant that he might garner a little bit of his father's approval. Suddenly a bubble of anger snapped up, roiling through him. It was his mother's fault that Plague thought he was weak, wasn't it? He must think that his own son was just like her. Weak like her. Stupid like her. Instantly, almost inexplicably, he hated her. He hated her because she had left them before he was even out of his basket, hated her because she defied Father, because she roamed free while he must remain here. If she had not been so wretched, such a coward, he would not have to put up with his sire's lessons the way he did. Surely Papa would find other ways to teach him.

But the lessons were of absolute importance, at the same time. This he knew. He idolized his father, the strange, almost skeletal stallion who had taken him in hand and begun to shape him. He held him up on high. He did not, however, love him. No... love was far too pure an emotion to be felt by one as tainted as he had become, even as a foal. His body was too soft, too small to be right. There were things he must do, ways he must change. He must, absolutely must achieve the greatness that only his father commanded. Manipulation was a tool, and a powerful one. He'd had it used on him long enough to know what it meant, what it was. What it might entail. Swiftly, his baby thoughts began to grow more complex. The change was a necessary one, one that he could nor afford to do without.

He pushed himself, forcing himself to improve. Even a hint of praise was worth whatever pain he might encounter in the interim. But it was not praise he was seeking. No, he had a far grander goal than that. He divorced himself from his gentler feelings, until they became nothing but a shadow, nothing but a memory. Even the desire to appeal to his father was forgotten in his obsession. Perfection took time, took effort. It took everything he had, and more than he had not yet discovered in himself. His failure to achieve that goal rankled, but he ignored the sting.

Personal pride was not as important as the end result. And slowly, the darkness was eating at his soul. His awareness of the passing of days was dim, distant. He did not, in fact, notice how long it had been since he had come to his decision until his father told him that he was bringing him to meet Diabettia. Mother. The mare who had not had any role in his upbringing until now, except as a tale, as a warning. Another foal would have been told to 'be good, or the Skinwalkers will get you', but he was told that he was to behave, or to expect the same treatment as his dam. He did. He listened, he obeyed. He allowed himself to be formed into a tool to his father's hooves. Why did Father want him to meet her? Silently resentful, the colt followed Plague, his young eyes filled with a deceitful wickedness that might perhaps have been perceived to be disturbing.

He almost tuned out the conversation that his father had with his mother, but then he noticed the madness in her eyes. Without any further warning, she lashed out. Well, well, well. She did have some spirit after all. Fool. She ought to know that disobedience came with an almost instantaneous reward. Her striking hooves connected with nothing, leaving her off balance, open to his father's attack. His father stepped in, coming between them, and backed her down.

“Sweetness, you know better than to defy me,” Plague mouthed, his tone harsh, and ... was there a hint of amusement, hidden at its depths? Disbelieving, the colt stared from his sire to his dam, trying to make sense of what he saw. Yes, his father was angry at her show of rebellion, of fire, but he was also amused by something. What could that be? It was then that he realized the true reason that Father had brought him out here to meet her.

She hated him. Hated the sight of him, her son. It seemed to trouble her some how, to torture her. Smirking to himself, the colt drew himself up, giving her a look that said plainer than words how pathetic he found her to be. The darkness roiled within him, giving him strength and shaping his thoughts in wild, twisted ways. So, that was how it was to be. He was truly a tool, truly something that could be used again the candy covered Kalona. The knowledge pleased him in ways that he could not describe. Just by being who he was, what he was, he had assisted his father in punishing his mother. Good.

I hate you too, Mother. he thought at her, his eyes cruel and hard. I hate your weakness, and your stupid, foolish 'freedom'. It was entirely her fault that he did not learn the more important lessons from his father. Lessons that would teach him how to be something more than a puppet. How dare she interfere in his life in that way? Senseless mare. The manner in which his father had reined her in was masterful. He was impressed. So, that was the way to do things. Use force, and words. Weapons of the mind, and strength of the body. Watching him once more, he realized how very desperately he wanted to become like him.

Of course, Diabettia was a roadblock to that. However much he cut himself off from the thought of her, of her behavior, her blood ran in his veins. Damnable wench. She corrupted him just by existing. He gave her a hard, unforgiving look. Surely, her weakness was a trial for him, a trial which he must learn to overcome, to overshadow. He had already learned what her behavior meant in his life. Now he was learning what it meant to be her son. Well, he'd show her. He would become more than she could ever hope to be. He would become his name. He would become... Famine. And his father would be proud.

Tyrant ducked and kicked up his heels as he danced out of the way. He slashed his tail through the air with anger as his ears p***k up curiously watching as his father steps forward to handle the wayward mare.

Crazy b***h, he thought as he continued to watch, a feeling of delight rising up in his young heart as she was bullied back to her place like a proper mare should be. So that must be what it means to be a stallion. Powerful, in control, and strong. His eyes locked on his father in contemplation.

You won't be strong forever, old man, Tyrant thought as he considered his options. Someday I will be stronger, powerful, and in control. Then all you have will be mine. Tyrant ducked his head as his father glanced over to him, hiding the ambition that swirled in his eyes. He had long since learned that his father's temper was not reserved to crazy mares.



Tyrant stepped out in a longer stride, feeling good today. The sun that beat down on his coat felt warm and inviting. He felt stronger. I'm not ready to challenge him yet, but I am getting there, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the feel of his body as it bent and moved to his commands, just as the world should.

He spotted a mare nearby and paused, striking a pose of control and strength, knowing that any proper mare would be attracted to that. His tail drooped as soon as he noticed it was his mother. She glared at him, but said nothing. He snorted and wandered up to her, cool and calm, yet ready for any attack.

"Well hello, mother," he sneered. His ears turned up as he noticed that she was uncomfortable with the word; an unexpected yet pleasant jab. A grin marked his features as he used this to his advantage.

"How are you today, mommy?" He danced out of her way with a chuckle as she swiped at him, then suddenly stepped up to her to press his young but stronger body against hers.

"I'd be nicer to me, were I you," he said casually, letting a hint of a threat slide through his voice like a dagger in the dark, "You never know what accidents can happen out here," he said and chuckled again, this time taking her hit, letting it hit him squarely.

He took one step back and breathed in slowly, as if enjoying the pain, letting a look of pleasure dance across his face. He shook out his mane and glanced at her again, then flicked his ear at her as if she were an annoying fly.

"Mmmm thanks, mom, but you're not my type," he tossed over his shoulder as he trotted off, tail up and lifting his hooves high to flash in the light. The pain in his side was a pleasant price to pay for the look on her face. Yes... today is a good day.

He stood on the outer edge of the clearing, a faint breeze blowing over his body. The stallion had not returned to this spot since he left all those years ago. The moon shone as a sliver over head, illuminating the clearing. He snickered to himself. It was all too perfect for him.

Lunis stepped out of the trees, he hooves barely making a noise. In the light of the moon, he seemed to shimer white, though those who knew him would have thought otherwise. Lunis was evil, pure evil, and he enjoyed it.

He had been evil ever since he could remember. Of his parents, Lunis blamed Diabetia--he spat at the name--for his turnout. She had left him with his father, Plague, a minipulating stallion who shaped him into a tool to get back at Dia. And Lunis despised both of them for it.

The stallion smiled evilly, exposing a pair of fangs. He wanted blood tonight. Lunis wanted blood whenever he thought of his parents.

A flash of pink and white in the corner of his eye pulled him out of his reterive. He stared at the white and pink mare standing in front of him. Her purple and pink candy filled hair blew cautiously in the wind. Her pink eyes were full of surprise.
Lunis snarled. "b***h..." He stared her down, rage and hatred building in his body. The mare didn't recognize him, that much he could tell. The stallion smirked at his mother. "How can you not remember me, Mother?" His voice had a blood chilling ring to it.

The mare stared wide-eyed at him. "Lunis..." He smirked even more. He would kill her one day, and Plague. Diabetia would feel the pain that he felt and he would take pleasure ripping out her throat. His father, well, Lunis would do even worse to him.

"Speak while you can. For you won't be alive much longer." He laughed to her, his threat sending waves of panic and fear through the mare. He turned around and walked back into the trees. Lunis left his mother in the clearing, and spoke from everywhere, "You are the reason I am like this. Don't ever forget that... Mother."

((Sorry to interrupt but: Are we allowed to enter more than twice? Just curious...))