[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!