Basics --
Name: Thom
Species: Equine
Age: 5 years old
Gender: Stallion
Herd: None
Rank: Unclaimed Stallion
Appearance --
Breed: Tennessee walker x Quarter horse cross
Height: 15.3 HH
Coat: Black tobiano
Mane/Tail: Black and white, mostly white
Markings: White blaze
Eyes: Dark brown, looks black
Ref:
This, but olderInner Workings --
Personality Overview: Quiet, Gentle, Loyal, Meek, Submissive, Patient, Conflicted, Grounded, Cautious optimist
The Past --
As told from his point of view...Father led his own herd, one composed of mainly unicorns. He himself was a unicorn, proud and mighty and superior. Despite his thoughts about the other species, particularly equines, my mother somehow managed to catch his eye. She was dark in coloration but gentle in nature. I like to think it was her sweetness that appealed to him, that some part of him responded to that sincere attitude she wielded so valiantly in the face of adversity. She was his first mate, the true one I like to think, but their relationship was short lived.
Swept up by their feelings for each other, they jumped quickly into their relationship and within little time at all from their announcement I was conceived. Both were happy and expectant, my father looking forward to the prospect of having a son. An old mare of the herd predicted I would be a boy by the way my mother carried me, and this only fueled my father’s prideful fantasies of creating a small replica of himself. He was tall, golden in color, and possessed a strong, commanding air like none other in our herd. It still pains me to say I was a disappointment.
He longed for someone to resemble him, to match him for looks, temperament, and strength. Instead I was more of a match to my mother. While I possessed a strong pattern passed down on my father’s side, my mother’s genes had been strong too. My coat was not golden, but black splashed with white. I inherited her deep brown eyes rather than my father’s burning amber. I even lacked the proud mark of the unicorn that may have been my only redemption with him. And with my presence I had taken from him my mother’s, who died during childbirth. I should have known from this that I would be cursed from the start.
Father was devastated. Looking at me reminded him too much of mother and so he spent very little time alone with me, though I very much wanted to cling to the sole parent I had remaining. But, unable to let me and my mother’s memory die, he ordered a small mare of the herd to nurse me and keep me well. She was a cold little beast, sharing my father’s superior views regarding unicorns, and so only did the very least for me, stamping out any attempt I made toward receiving motherly affections from her. I hadn’t realized at the time that she was far too busy implementing her own plans to want a child in need of her constant attention.
Because she took care of me, she was placed in high regard of Father. He was grateful to her, knowing what a burden it must have been, suddenly caring for her lead’s motherless child. I tried to change how they felt, tried to be independent and self reliant, but it typically got me into more trouble than anything and earned their ire. After a time, though, I began noticing things about them: they spent more time in each other’s company, their talks began to become more serious, and my presence would constantly silence anything they had been saying to each other before I walked over. It should have been obvious, but my poor youthful mind was oblivious, still hopeful I could win their affection and praise.
Soon Father announced that he would do what he should have done all along. He took a unicorn for a wife in place of my equine mother. It was the same unicorn mare who had been nursing me, the one who rejected my child’s love in place of a higher calling. Like with my mother, they wasted no time in starting their own family, though I suspected the love and devotion that Father had shown my mother had truly died with her. I never did see him look at this mare as he did Mother.
Within a year’s time, they had a child, and Father’s yearling colt was eclipsed completely by the young filly. She was perfect in every way that I wasn’t. Her coat was a combination of her mother’s solid champagne, a sandy gold with little white, very much like Father. She was bold and daring from the start, quick and regal as befitted her status. Most of all, the horn upon her head was a kind that had never been seen before, so beautiful in color that it left Father amazed that he could have created something so sweet and innocent and perfect. Father finally had his pride and joy.
This, of course, forced me to grow up quick. I was completely shunned from my surrogate mother in favor of her own child, who she doted on and spoiled into a right rotten brat. I was approached by Father only a day after she had been born, and my place in life from then on was set in stone. He told me that I was a big brother now, a protector, a guardian. It would be my sole duty in life to care for my sister and bend to her will, as everyone else in the herd did. She was special, gifted, and needed to be treated as such. And, cruelest of all, requested by his new mate, I would say nothing of my relation to her. Though it pained me to deny my sister the knowledge that we were kin, to deny myself the pleasure of claiming a sibling, I obeyed in the hopes that, in this simple manner, I might win Father’s favor at last.
I was eventually introduced to my sister as her caretaker, an older foal who would watch over her and ensure her safety with my minimal experience and knowledge. She was a bold creature, daring in every sense of the word, and kept me on my toes. Seeking help from Father or her mother were out of the question, however, as this would have shown signs of inadequacy in me, and I didn’t need to give either of them a reason to feel less of me than they already did. She did push me a few times to the edge, though. She had a tongue like a viper, piercing and painful that left a sting afterward, especially when she was unable to get her way. Numerous times she would spit at me, pointing out my apparent lack of parents, the mere tolerance her parents, the leads, held for me, the silly, meaningless job of watching her that I had been given. These didn’t nearly hurt so much as those she inflicted regarding my mother. I don’t know where, but she heard about the fact she died birthing me, and labeled me a murderer for it, even going so far as to say I would likely kill any mare I fancied with the foal I would give them. She called me cursed, and after a while I started to believe her.
While a broken part of me wished that I would leave them, let Father and his new mate and their spoiled daughter live their lives without me, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. These horses were my family, like it or not, and loyalty kept me rooted, stuck in place with only dreams of what life could potentially be like elsewhere. I would have never guessed that sooner than expected I would find out.
My sister, Zora, only occasionally butted heads with me when I refused to let things happen her way, but she quickly realized when she was older that the true opposition rested upon her parents’ shoulders. Rather than address me and get nowhere, she challenged them, demanding things her way until they gave in. Typically this worked without fail, as Zora was skilled in the art of persuasion, but, unfortunately for her, it failed on her once. Father and her mother were resolute, unwilling to be swayed from their position, and Zora was furious. In a desperate show that she could not be controlled by them any longer, she announced she would be leaving, and surprisingly ordered me to follow. I was stunned. I wasn’t sure what Father would have wanted me to do, if he would have liked me to try to talk her down from leaving or refuse in the hopes that she might be too startled to leave. But, too accustomed to going with other’s plans, too spineless to make decisions for myself, I obeyed. We left that afternoon.
For half a year, we have traveled together, our relationship toward each other still that of spoiled princess and faithful servant. I believe she’s grown to consider me her property and drags me around like a guard dog on a leash. I have no idea where she’s headed, or what she intends to do, but I do plan to continue carrying out my word and protecting my sister as Father instructed.
