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Her sparks wouldn’t stop sparking. At first, it had been fun; the light headedness that usually came after never arrived, and the sparks didn’t slow down. Prancing about, pretending intermittently to be both a pretty dancer and a very serious warrior, the delight lasted for several minutes, before it started to hurt. “Ouch!” she exclaims, her mid-air leap suddenly halted, her limbs gracelessly thumping down to earth, and her nose reaching back to rub her back, where the sparks were seeming to hurt her. Noticing as she does so that they are arcing all in one direction (before one zaps her on the nose, again, at least), she lets her eyes wander that way. Lots of people seem to be going that direction, she notices, yelping and leaping towards the mass exodus to wherever, when her back bites her again. Looking for her mother, and hopefully finding her (all the while being nipped by her usually painless and pretty magic), Gwyn sets off towards the summons. Her father is already there, and she makes her way towards him, blissfully unaware of the complicated nature of her parent’s relationship (as most children are). Though, certainly, she’d noticed they spent less time together, her father was also often patrolling, or looking around for new and better things for everyone. Gwyn had thus deduced that it was this place that had caused the problem, if there was one at all. Happily smiling at him, also blissfully unaware of the hostility brewing behind his stormy expression, she casts her eyes to the strangely warping God, feeling trepidation and curiosity both rise in her belly. She had only ever seen the Time God once, and though the sight of his fireworks was forever emblazoned in her memory, it was a fleeting moment for a child. He was otherwise only real in her father’s stories, and the other Gods were just figments, fleeting glimpses she had caught moments before they had died. So her mind did not let her remember them, because it was too traumatizing. For the young filly, the frightful thing to which they have all been drawn is ultimate power, regardless of everyone’s distrust and fear of him. For Gwyn, this was God, and life; the darkness conquered hope, and cast it into the shadows. But hope – hope still shines. It’s evident in how she forgets to listen to the God at all, once it becomes evident nothing to interesting is happening; more curious are those who have come, some very bizarre, and exotic, and even more pressing to her is the desire to spot her grandfather. Though she does not see a spotted coat, dismay does not find its way into her thoughts, which are far too preoccupied with the bustle of many strangers, and vaguely familiar faces. ’cause you’ve got teeth like a wolf but you cry like a sheep

Image & Code by Me
@Glacia