Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a bright and sunny day, but Smolder's mood continued to be anything but.

Things had changed, since he had run into that monster in the forest. His views on the world, his opinions of others... hell, even his own opinion on himself. All of them had changed drastically after he had come to realize what his childish mind had shielded him from before.

Nobody cared. So he didn't care. It was as simple as that, at first, and since then, his opinion had drawn itself out further to the point that it didn't even matter if nobody cared to begin with. Detached, his mood remained steadily sullen, his expression grim.

Letting out a bored yawn, he headed towards the stream. He figured with water nearby, the majority of his Nightmare family wouldn't care for the wet area, and he could spend his afternoon in peace, alone.

His lazy stroll paused as he noticed a dark shadow in the distance. Of course, he couldn't be so lucky for it to have really been a shadow, for since when did shadows emit fire around their feet?

Rolling his eyes, the younger stallion attempted to ignore his slightly older brother as he leaned his own head to drink from the slow-moving stream. Hopefully, he was far enough downstream for Pyre to even notice him... if he should be so fortunate. That's all he needed now, some cocky smarmy stallion annoying him, when he was trying to have some alone time. If he hurried, he figured, he might even be able to get his drink and walk off before the other stallion even spotted his presence.

Raising a blonde eyebrow at the comment, the larger stallion snorted.

"Hardly. You call this pathetic group a family? I call it a group of misfits. Two adults who give birth to six foals... and where are those foals now, brother?"

He smirked, and circled the other stallion, ignoring the few drops of remaining water on his mouth as they slowly dripped down against his throat. "Three sisters you and I have never even met. Where are they, Pyre? Do you think, if we were a 'family', that they'd have bolted like they had? No, they wouldn't have."

He snorted again, disgusted. "I'll be bolting soon enough myself."

He rolled his red eyes as he watched the older stallion flip his hair like some silly mare. "Style?" he echoed, watching the dark stallion's every move. He had gotten good at observing, over time. Watchful eyes that didn't miss a twitch. It had amazed his father, but Smolder didn't care what or who amazed his parent. "You have no style, Pyre. You have a habit of annoying others, not style."

His eyes narrowed at his brother's second comment. Smolder had known from the start that Pyre was Daray's favorite. He was born the spitting image of their mother, but with Daray's own orange to accent the fiery Nightmare appearance. No, Daray loved Pyre best, and Smolder knew that all along.

Gritting his teeth, he suppressed an urge to forcefully headbutt his sibling, mussing up his obnoxious hair that he loved to flip. Anything to make him STOP. Headbutting had once been a favorite game of theirs... but Smolder no longer felt like playing games. Smolder felt vicious, he felt like lashing out, he felt like hurting something just for the sake of hurting it, to exercise the pent up rage that seemed to be consuming him from within. But he would not let it control him... no. He could control himself... right?

"Don't be so... modest, Pyre." he finally said, through his teeth. "It's obvious who is Daddy dearest's favorite child."

Eyes narrowed as his continued staring at his sibling.

Just thinking about it alone sent an uncomfortable shiver down Smolder's spine. The memory was all too vivid, all to real. The corpse powder, the awful smell of the beast, it's foul breath in his face. To this day, there were moments when he could have sworn he caught the scent of that treacherous beast that had attempted to infect him. Smolder merely figured either his Nightmare blood or the chilly creek water that had destroyed what powder had been put in him. The scar on his side was enough proof for HIM to recall the events of that fateful night, no matter what their Father or his brother had to say about it.

His muscles tensed, he grew angrier at his brother's all-too casual comment.

"I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. It was a Skinwalker."

"How dare you."

It came out strained, almost as if it were growled. He felt himself move before he even realized what was going on, and the larger stallion stepped forward and managed to cut off the path of the smaller one. "You don't turn your back on me, not after saying something like THAT."

He could feel his anger increasing, his heart beating faster as his temper soared high. He was tired of being belittled, of being written off and disbelieved. Why was it so hard to accept what he had to say? They may not care for him, may not love him, but the least they could do was LISTEN when he actually had something worth saying!

He took a step back, his lips curling up in a snarl. Smolder didn't know what exactly was happening, but this overwhelming anger was beginning to consume him, beginning to overtake him.

Who is this stallion, who thinks he can address you like this? a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Smolder could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, his legs moving apart as his hooves bore down on the ground below. He acts as if he knows you better than yourself. Who is he, to mock and belittle you? He's making fun of you, and you're going to LET HIM?


"No." he growled, feeling his head pounding as his body grew warmer. It was almost as if he was on fire himself. But that wasn't him. That was Pyre. Pyre the favorite got the fire, while Smolder got nothing.

The rage and anger grew stronger with each new thought, and Smolder felt the hair on his back and head grow thicker as his teeth grew longer and sharper. His anger, his hatred, was twisting and reforming him, and it felt so very wickedly good.

One hoof readjusted itself, then the other, and the stallion rose, standing taller than ever.

"No, Pyre," he growled out a second time, a fearsome gleam in his blood-red eye, "You'll be done when I damn well allow you to be done."