[AW] The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

[Regis]

Hold me down, I'm so tired now Sickness ravaged the boy. Where he ought to be running alongside his parents and romping with his sister, Regis preferred to stand quietly amongst them or lie beneath them as he napped, which he did frequently. He would rise on occasion to nurse, but never for very long until he was down again and basking in the sun. Could he talk, he would complain about the way his stomach ailed him and the lethargy that wrought him completely. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t fair - but in the young span of his life, it was one of the few things Regis knew. Those other things he did know were far more comforting, like the warmth of his parents against he and Anemone during the chilly nights, or the way his mother’s whiskers tickled him when she drew close. It was the gentle words of encouragement he didn’t understand from his father that the colt was drawn to when he had laid for too long, and the ever comforting presence of his beloved sister through it all. Those were the few precious things that Regis did know, and perhaps it was because of them that his weakness had yet to defeat him. But today was better than most. With both his parents lingering nearby, just as they always were, the Dawn Prince had found a particularly interesting feature lying upon the ground; a stick. It could be no more than a foot in length and no more round than a garter snake. To anyone else, it was nothing special, but to Regis, it was so many things. A pen to write mighty words, a brush to create bold and beautiful paintings, a sword to defend his family or a wand for which to cast any spell imaginable. Bending his front legs enough to reach it, Regis grasped the frail stick in his mouth and then pushed himself to stand as straight as his knobby knees would allow. Grasping it between milk teeth, the colt bobbed his head up and down and the stick, of course, followed suit. Stepping closer to the stone walls of the citadel, the little Prince dragged the stick along the rough surface. The noise it made wasn’t particularly loud, but it was there, changing it’s tune with every bump and crevice the stick was pulled across. Had he the energy, Regis would’ve gone faster and faster to explore what it might sound like if he were galloping along the edge of the citadel, but he could manage no more than a tiny, pitiful trot one way before turning around and going back the other way. But in his mind, he is as fast as the wind, and he is unstoppable. Aim your arrow at the sky and leave me where I lie

Open to all!

[Jericho]

Jericho and the walls came tumbling down Since coming down from the mountains, Jericho had stuck close to the citadel. Though his days were mostly spent exploring, he made a point to slip beneath the shadow of the walls by sundown. It was important that he meet the citizens and learn the customs of this new place, he knew—though adventures were well and good, he had not forgotten his earnest promise to Somnus to help the court in any way he could. And so more and more often, he began to frequent the fortress, waiting for a way to make himself useful.    It was an itch he could not seem to scratch, this desire to be of service, even in some small way. The courtyard in which he lingered had not proved especially busy, and those who passed through came and went without so much as a backwards glance. To be fair, it was no one’s fault. Unbeknownst to him, most remained at the summit, preoccupied with herd politics or with gods he knew nothing of. Still, he wanted to help, and so Jericho took to roaming the citadel, looking for another with a task to do or time to spare.   It was in this way that he eventually made his way through the gates, stepping through the cool shadow of the walls and into the sunlight. Having found no one to occupy his time within, the young stallion decided to stroll along the fortress’ perimeter in search of any repairs that may need to be made to the walls. Perhaps it was a menial task, but it had to be done. He had been trained as a soldier after all, and he could not so easily abandon the many lectures on defensive strategy.   However, he had not gotten far in his inspection before he came across a small colt, lounging in the midday sun and toying with a stick. The sight took him by surprise, and he could not help but smile and turn from the wall. Once upon a time, he too had played with sticks—first with his brother Zion, then with his sisters in succession. His heart twisted thinking of the trio of younger siblings that he’d left behind. Sarai had left home not long after him, and next year Sapphira would follow. He’d never gotten much of a chance to play with Tigris. She was only a little older than this boy, Jericho estimated. Just days old when he’d set off on the bridequest, his youngest sister remained a mystery to him. He could only imagine what she might be like now, how strong she must have grown. If they were back home, she’d probably be playing with the very boy before him.   “Hello, mighty warrior,” he called, bowing lightheartedly to the boy. “Where did you get such a fine blade?” The wall could wait for the moment. "speech"

Image Credits || original coding by kaons; modified by shady

@Regis c:

[Regis]

Hold me down, I'm so tired now His back was to the stranger when he rounded the corner. With the stick still held firmly between his teeth, the little Prince continued to drag it across the coarse surface of the citadel’s wall. But as he strayed too far past what he considered to be a comfortable distance from his parents whom grazed nearby, Regis turned to once again go back the other way, and that was when his dual-toned eyes landed on the man hooded in crimson. He applied the brakes immediately, standing tall and still as he inspected the stranger with a healthy dose of uncertainty. He was taller than his mother and father, lacking wings but sporting an impressive set of horns that began at his forehead and ran down the length of his neck. The sight was intimidating to say the least, and for a moment the colt teetered on the decision of what to do. This man of scarlet and sable spoke then, and his query was kind enough to placate Regis at least a little. Still, craning his neck, Regis’ eyes sought out the form of his parents, short legs ready to run for them and take up his safe place beneath them. But with a single look and a few soft words of encouragement from his mother, the boy returned his attention on the stranger standing before him. Lowering his head, Regis propped his stick carefully against the solid stone wall before turning his attention on the grassy ground underfoot. He searched, eyes flicking back and forth towards the man all the while until finally, he found his prize: another stick. Gingerly taking it between his teeth, the Prince picked his head up and took a tentative step towards the ebony man before pausing, hesitating. Another glance was given towards his parents whom continued to watch from afar, yet still they seemed at ease, feeding him comfort. Hesitantly he looked forward again, taking another careful baby step towards the man followed by another, until eventually, he was able to offer the spare stick to him. Turning on his haunches as soon as the stranger took the stick from him, if he took it, Regis trotted back to his own, dark head bobbling all the way. Reclaiming his stick, he turned and brandished it proudly towards the man but maintained what he considered to be a comfortable distance of just a yard or so away. Now, they both had similar instruments they could be proud of, and maybe with a bit of patience, Regis would find the courage to break out of his comfort zone completely. Aim your arrow at the sky and leave me where I lie

@Jericho I love them already :'D Also, permission was given from both Sparrow and Kat to ghost write Somnus and Eulalie!