Contemplation in Snow

The Universe

The Essence of the Stars

Earth

The Beginning of Time and Being

Soil

The Basis of All Life

Chalk

From Which Primal Life is Molded

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Cyno twirled his paintbrush in his hands before looking back to the view in front of him. Soft reds and oranges danced across the green hills as the sun started its descent. As beautiful as that was...it wasn't the subject of his painting. He held two fingers up to measure his subject before returning to painting its soft whites and golden blues. His subject was a butterfly perched on a flower in front of him. It was kind enough to hold still more than long enough for him to capture its existence in the paint. He was sure his cousin would love to see something like this. She often spoke of how much she wished to see the outside world. While they never met, Cyno felt that something far sinister was holding her back from that dream. He paused in his brushstrokes as the butterfly flapped its small wings. A light smile crossed his face and he moved with care not to startle it as he continued. A few more quick strokes and he captured it perfectly.

"Thank you for staying still my small friend," Cyno whispered as if the butterfly understood him. He smiled and closed his eyes, carefully activating a controlled form of his aura and brushing his hand across the paper. A moment passed and the bright blue aura dissipated. He pulled his hand back from the paper and watched as his painting came to life. The butterfly flew up and off of the paper, before landing next to the other. Cyno let out a small sigh of relief. He was surely getting better at that. A gloved hand carefully rubbed his gem as he stood and started to pack his paint supplies. As he slipped his pack back on the butterflies took to the now dark sky, off to find their new path in life. 

His smile faded as the Moon started to rise in the Sun's place. He pulled up his hood, ensuring his gem was fully covered before heading back to the house. His life required him to be constantly on the move. He realized this when he was younger. He was born on the run and was well aware the rest of his life would require him to stay on the run. Alune, his mother, had always warned him life would not be easy. That there were people out there that would want him dead. He paused outside the front door, watching as a stray flower petal drifted down in front of him. He caught it in his hand and looked it over. Why did other's want him dead? He was born out of a wish. Out of love. But wherever his mother was from...love didn't exist. Cyno sighed carefully kneeling and funneling energy into the petal, breathing fresh life into it before letting it descend to the earth. 

The Haven

That's what Mother called it. Her old Home. A Home dusted in eternal Moonlight. A Home where Freedom didn't exist. It didn't sound like much of a home to him. Cyno opened the door and ensured it quietly shut behind him. He dropped his hood after ensuring the blinds were closed and the doors were locked. The Haven. Wherever it was. Seemed to be much more of a cult in his eyes. A cult that worshipped something called the 'Light'. Cyno opened the fridge scanning for some leftovers. Mother would speak of it with some forgotten forced reverence. She must've been brainwashed into that position. He couldn't imagine how different he would be if he grew up there. He pulled out a small box of takeout and shut the fridge, fumbling around in the dark to find some silverware before retreating to his room. Well, he could imagine how different he would be. The Dream Corn. She lived there. The way her imagination seemed blocked, the way she talked. The way she looked to him with wonder wanting to hear of the outside world and the creatures that roamed it...To be raised there...meant to lose yourself. Lose it to this...Light...Whatever that was. He took a slow bite of the cold food, staring at the wall of his room. 

Would I Be Better Off There?

A wretched thought. His mothers worked so hard to keep him safe. But he often found himself wondering about it. The Haven would've given him the proper training for his magic. Or...they would've taken away his aura. Cyno hummed in thought. Perhaps he would be better off without his aura. He slowly sat his food to the side and leaned back against the cold wall. What terrible thoughts. He should be grateful he made it this far. His parents have done so much for him. Warding off hunters. Helping as best they could to teach him. Letting him see the world.

Golden eyes closed taking in the sounds of the night. The crackling of his white and blue flames being the only thing to take his attention. Gloved hands slowly went to his braid and pulled it apart, long wisps falling down. He sighed rubbing his gem. 'You're fine, Cyno.' He tried to convince himself before pulling himself up to stand. He wasn't hungry anymore. He put his food on his bedside table, lighting the candle with his tail before unpacking his artist pack.

Before he sat down at his desk, he caught his eyes in the mirror. Hints of blue creeping over them. A sign he was stressing himself out too much. He took a deep breath before slowly sitting down, nothing a quick drawing couldn't fix...

He wouldn't want to be the reason the house blew up...Again.