He had only been a kid, during the war. a fact that earned man tears from his father. yet-- The boy crawled over to the last remaining effect of the murdered soldier. a small rectangular object, akin to the hilt of a saber. it was old, and it strutted its age about like one of those proud peacocks from the capital. decorated with peeling stickers written in a foreign script, one of the two that were left having been reduced to nothing but a white streak of adhesive; wrapped with rusted steel ribbons, with a small orange contraption situated where its blade should've been. Ohma clutched it closely, almost refusing to just throw it away. Harmony wrapped his fingers around the object trying to wriggle it free, yet his son hunched down, screaming a solemn no. Shakily, Ohma met his father's ebon eyes, and extended the effect. "Grandma said dreams are important..." "He tried to kill us." "but... he had dreams." Ohma protested, suddenly the blade flashed to life, a brilliant gleaming saber, colored with the sheen of a thousand glinting galaxies. taken aback Father paused. "Boy do you even know what that thing is?" Harmony asked, taking a good grip of the sword's handle, turning it over--and there he was met with the scarlet letter of the item's origin. a large Emblematic M, and in a small pictographic script. "Macomb Industries: Combat Gearika... Prototype model." squeezing the hilt around the sides and the blade retracted, and without warning Harmony had scooped up his son, his hooves pounding against the ground. a spell: a raging fireball whizzed past his head, taking a part of his ear with it. then came a swarm of hissing, snarling wind like a platoon of hungry locusts it descended upon him. keeping his son close he aimed to endure it, and save his son the pain. The wind, dreamed up by the malicious minds of Talm's suited tigers, it came upon him and tore its way through his flesh. through muffled grunts, groans and a small cough of blood he then came to trip. falling forward, yet with a loud roar he steeled himself, rising back to his hooves; the waves of the razor wind continued to beat down on him, yet he never faltered--hugged his son tighter and took all the pain he couldn't afford his son to even glimpse. Lest he---NO! thinking like that is a loser's mentality. Ohma wouldn't turn into a star scourge, he was sure of it. As a Father, he would make it come true. Ohma had resigned himself now to being carried, never offering a single peep, or cry as his father heaved, and labored... "See there boy?" Harmony wheezed between his words, pointing with a bloody finger to the horizon lost amongst gray waves. "Greater Magnamalia, we're nearly safe boy." Harmony spoke softly, watching a small boat rock against the gray waves, there standing atop the boat was a young dire wolf, her indigo eyes searched up and down the father and son. "Oi?!" she called. nearly leaping from the boat. "You're injured... let me take a look at those wounds." she tugged on the old goat's arms, though from the look written across her face she was more astonished the man was even still standing. without missing a beat, she wielded her claws and tore off a piece of her fatigues, aiming to wrap it around the heaviest cuts, but... the old goat shook his head, his slow movements were the death knell. turning her head, muttering something under her breath, when she looked back, a sniffling kid's face shoved against her purview, letting out a startled yelp, the wolf tumbled backwards. seated within the gray water, she looked up and saw only a corpse refusing to die. Ebon eyes that burned with life, yet his breath told a much different story. Every second father wasn't breathing he was shaking, the magics he had been hit with had sank their fangs deep into him--the pain was painted all over his face, from the numerous fresh wounds, and the grimace that took center stage. he drew a deep breath. "Chi...ld." Harmony struggled. softly he placed his son on the boat, crumbling to his knees as all his strength left. "keep... my boy safe. Promise me." he wheezed, painfully coughing, leaving a crimson stain against the pearl fur of his palm. gently he raised a hand, placed it on his son's head. he lied... he smiled, a falsehood that everything was gonna be ok. "Boy... dreams." he said. "are important. grow big, and strong. that is my dream. you'll do that...for me... right?" the color was draining with each second, and his eyes became more and more sullen with each passing moment. black smoke, it rose off of him in waves, with the rhythm of his breath, the labored blinks he'd make. The Old Goat reached suddenly, grabbing Ohma's horns, pulling his son close--one last time, he placed his forehead against Ohma's their horns interlocking for all of a moment... then Harmony was no more. passing away with all but a small "I love you son." The Dire Wolf moved quickly, the look burned into her indigo eyes told a million stories--all of them haunting: "If she couldn't unmoor in time? if she was found to be a member of a foreign military?" "Papa...?" Ohma squeaked. "Papa get up... we need to go..." The dire wolf stifled her tears, and continued, back placed against the boat, pushing against the shore. "Papa...Papa's just napping. ...Aun...Auntie Lavender is gonna take you far away from here, and--" her voice croaked, hiding a sob behind pantomimed sneeze. "So be a good lad, that's what you... your papa wants." Lavender, the uniformed Dire Wolf spoke, trying her hardest to keep the boy calm. then it was all a mess of hazy waves, and muffled screams as Ohma pleaded to not let his papa be left behind, yet the small boat drifted onwards to the Land in the East... Magnamalia.
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