That was an easy enough question to answer, thought Psychedelic. The ear closest to the side Sinopa was pressed against turned toward her, listening as she spoke. “I wasn’t born on these islands,” he said, and thought how best to answer her. He hadn’t come from one place specifically, not a herd or a location. His entire life he’d been nothing more than a nomad, no place to truly call home. “I lived out on the mainlands, but never in one area for long. My father wasn’t built for herd life and my mother…” his tone dried the very minute he said it. Psychedelic had no love in his heart for either his father or mother, but out of the two he loathed his mother the most. She was pathetic. “Well let’s just say I was separated from her at a pretty young age, thank goodness.” He chuckled lightly after he said it, practically rolling his eyes in exasperation as to the truth of the matter. He still remembered how she’d blubbered at his father’s hooves, feeding into his demented thoughts on his perfection. He also remembered the day the stallion had driven her away and Narcissus had tucked tail and run, too afraid to mar his coat with any scars. Psychedelic could still hear her pathetic screeching, begging Narcissus to come back. He flicked his ears back and fought the urge to roll his eyes again.
But a new question came, this one from Tolinka. Why was he here? As Psychedelic started to think, looking past the obvious response that first came to his mind, Sinopa spoke. “I’m never alone,” he said, and then blinked in surprise. He had never once told anyone about the voice that accompanied him, and it was most likely conjured up by his lonely childhood. As much as he was already loathed by most he tended to be loathed even more if he ever once spoke to the voice when he was in an actual, living being’s company. It seemed he’d boxed himself in, uncertain how to explain his way out of that one. He could be stupid and make up a lie, maybe say his long dead someone or another was always in his heart. He could be even more of an idiot and say he saw ghosts and they were always there… but no matter what he said it wouldn’t be the truth, and Psychedelic liked being accepted by these girls so much that he just couldn’t help but want to see how much of himself he could expose before they went running for the hills.
Don’t you even think about it. Just shut up right now, launch into a crazy story.
“I uh… I have this voice in my head.”
Shit. You actually said it.
“So… I never feel like I’m alone, you know?” He swallowed and shifted his legs, rubbing his skin against theirs as they stood so close together.
But what they said, concerning family, intrigued Psychedelic. His ears flicked and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. “That’s why I’m here too! Well, kind of. My dad was born here at the Lagoon; this is where he grew up. His dad, my gramps Hallucinogenic, was the boss here ‘til he died. Or… at least we just kinda assume he died here cause he isn’t here now and my dad never thought he’d leave. I figured if I was going to go hang out somewhere it might as well be where the family legacy started.”
What did he want?
You know what you want…
Psychedelic flicked his ears back and then forward. No, he wouldn’t say that out loud. To even give it voice would then put it into action and he’d have no choice but to try and inevitably fail. It was best to just occasionally daydream about it and then leave it behind… Sinopa’s words made the grin return to his mouth and he chuckled lightly. “I don’t want anything, really, but getting into some trouble… that sounds like a good time.”
we're the drunken gods of the living dead
WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD |