Neverland is home to lost boys like me
and lost boys like me are free
In many ways, Fang belongs to the wilds.
That is perhaps where he is most comfortable—he was born in the wilds, after all. The society (if it could even be called that) of his parents had been a primitive one, excelling only in ways that involved war, brute strength, or savagery. They were a barbaric people. Being sent away is perhaps the most fortunate turn of fate that could have ever happened to him. In the years that have passed, Fang has been able to evolve from boy to man. Not by the chiseled hammer of cruelty and bloodthirst that his family had wanted for him, but by the gathering of experience and knowledge—through pain, joy, and sorrow, he has grown.
And yet, even after all this, the stallion still finds himself amazed by each grand capitol he finds himself in. He had not even seen a proper building until well into his travels, let alone an established city—Caeleste’s great capitol had been his first. Looking up now at the spires, their rooftops haloed by the rays of the setting sun, he remembers the first time he had seen such ornate architecture. There is a beauty there to appreciate, the meticulously-carved stone standing as regal as the mountains that rise in the distance.
But there is something natural and familiar about the wild that calls to him.
Unspoiled, untouched, where nature flourishes unchallenged.
He tells himself that it is his curiosity that has driven him here to Denocte’s capitol, and while that might be true, his memories remind him that it is more. He is weary of fighting for his life (every breath clawed, scratched, and fought for), drawn towards the city lights like a dying man to water. There is life truly being lived here, he realizes as he watches the people bustle through the streets, recognizing for the first time how starved he has been of the simplicity of normal life. How they leave their homes without wondering if they will return, how they wander without constantly glancing over their shoulder, how the steady approach of dusk doesn’t send them scurrying for shelter.
They live without fear of the Terrors, and he thanks them for it.
tag; @Caelum
“…”
That is perhaps where he is most comfortable—he was born in the wilds, after all. The society (if it could even be called that) of his parents had been a primitive one, excelling only in ways that involved war, brute strength, or savagery. They were a barbaric people. Being sent away is perhaps the most fortunate turn of fate that could have ever happened to him. In the years that have passed, Fang has been able to evolve from boy to man. Not by the chiseled hammer of cruelty and bloodthirst that his family had wanted for him, but by the gathering of experience and knowledge—through pain, joy, and sorrow, he has grown.
And yet, even after all this, the stallion still finds himself amazed by each grand capitol he finds himself in. He had not even seen a proper building until well into his travels, let alone an established city—Caeleste’s great capitol had been his first. Looking up now at the spires, their rooftops haloed by the rays of the setting sun, he remembers the first time he had seen such ornate architecture. There is a beauty there to appreciate, the meticulously-carved stone standing as regal as the mountains that rise in the distance.
But there is something natural and familiar about the wild that calls to him.
Unspoiled, untouched, where nature flourishes unchallenged.
He tells himself that it is his curiosity that has driven him here to Denocte’s capitol, and while that might be true, his memories remind him that it is more. He is weary of fighting for his life (every breath clawed, scratched, and fought for), drawn towards the city lights like a dying man to water. There is life truly being lived here, he realizes as he watches the people bustle through the streets, recognizing for the first time how starved he has been of the simplicity of normal life. How they leave their homes without wondering if they will return, how they wander without constantly glancing over their shoulder, how the steady approach of dusk doesn’t send them scurrying for shelter.
They live without fear of the Terrors, and he thanks them for it.
tag; @Caelum
“…”
Lost boys like me
are free.
are free.
please tag Fang in all replies; magic and force are permitted
