Voltaire
Quietly, the stallion stood among the relics of the Day Court, knowing that he must atone for his sins. Alone, he could do nothing more than pay homage to a god he’d yet to know… and yet it is duty that drives Voltaire forward to the shrine. It is duty that keeps him here, praying to the unknown god of the Day Court, hoping for some sort of reprieve from the pain and suffering in his life. Though the sinner knows he doesn’t deserve it, there is something in him that wants just a piece of freedom from his own inner turmoil. As he stands solitarily on the rock, he wants nothing more than to fade into the oblivion of this place, unnoticed as he goes about his ways.
But, life had other plans.
Even as he stood in the quiet, there is a noise behind him. For a moment, Voltaire wants to ignore it and carry on as he had been… but then he hears the voice – a child’s voice and question. Though he is too old to believe in such things as miracles, he turns to answer the girl, but instead finds a young mare… far too old to believe in such things herself. He quirks a brow as he regards the silver button-eyed female, wondering if she really knew the horrors life had to bring, or if she was truly as innocent as she seemed. For a moment, he simply stood and watched her, as if deciding whether or not to answer her honestly… but with a sigh, the denim blue stallion offers something of a response.
”There are no miracles left for me in this world.” And his sullen face grows a shade darker, for shame drew a defeated sort of look to Voltaire. Here, on the sacred mount of the gods, he could do little more than be honest. And honesty bore the terrible truth for him – that his life would only continue to be a series of atoning tasks… there was little more left for the Day Court caretaker than that.
But, life had other plans.
Even as he stood in the quiet, there is a noise behind him. For a moment, Voltaire wants to ignore it and carry on as he had been… but then he hears the voice – a child’s voice and question. Though he is too old to believe in such things as miracles, he turns to answer the girl, but instead finds a young mare… far too old to believe in such things herself. He quirks a brow as he regards the silver button-eyed female, wondering if she really knew the horrors life had to bring, or if she was truly as innocent as she seemed. For a moment, he simply stood and watched her, as if deciding whether or not to answer her honestly… but with a sigh, the denim blue stallion offers something of a response.
”There are no miracles left for me in this world.” And his sullen face grows a shade darker, for shame drew a defeated sort of look to Voltaire. Here, on the sacred mount of the gods, he could do little more than be honest. And honesty bore the terrible truth for him – that his life would only continue to be a series of atoning tasks… there was little more left for the Day Court caretaker than that.
Day Court Caretaker
@Coraline
