It's barely ass o'clock in the morning and there's a tiny human pouncing on my chest screaming something about the front yard. Lovely... What could she possibly want to show me at this hour of morning? I bet it's snow, I bet she's excited by snow... Yeah, that's it.
I send the child to find her outdoor clothes as I drag myself out of bed. Bathrobe in hand I demand my husband join me. "If I have to be up, so do you. Come on princess, the kid wants to show us something."
I throw open the front door and to my utter shock there's an obsidian stallion grazing in the yard, picking from spots where the snow melted exposing the bare ground around its flaming hooves. I shut the door, turning to my husband and sighing. "Honey, did you spell check our dear daughter's letter to Santa?"
"No, why? She typed it up all by herself. She knows how to use spell-check." came the passive reply.
I lazily throw open the front door, letting the kid out onto the porch and letting my husband marvel at the majestic armored horse in our front yard. "Be careful! Don't get close to it!" screams my husband, grabbing onto our daughter's shoulder. The steed looks up inquisitively before snorting hot breath and going back to grazing.
I sigh again, "It's docile" I reassure him. I wander up to the creature, one hand out, palm up, and it sniffs at me once before deciding I'm safe. I slowly pet the side of its neck, noting that it's unusually warm to the touch but not uncomfortably hot. Calling back to my still-in-shock husband, "What does the package by the door say?"
Quickly collecting up the box, I use the distraction to call over the kid and introduce her to the horse. It seems to like her immediately and dips its head down offering to let her scamper up on its back. "It's a 'Thank You' note" he starts, removing a modestly large bright red apple from the box before reading "whosoever feeds it the apple becomes its master until death", he pales immediately.
"What's the matter dear?" I ask, walking back to the porch to collect the apple and the note. Meanwhile, the kid is now fully on the beast's back, holding onto two large protrusions from its shoulders as if they're handles. The creature doesn't seem to mind the child at all as she pets its armor-covered neck.
I glance over the letter, immediately realizing what my kid managed to do. She got bit by auto-correct. Apparently this year, Satan is Santa. Oh well, no mind. According to the letter it doesn't need to eat and generally just munches grass when its bored. Seems like a pretty decent deal - the kid gets a pony and I get a living lawnmower slash weed-eater. I'm somehow okay with this deal. It might take some convincing for my husband though.
Had I known it was that easy to get a Dreadsteed of Xoroth I would have saved myself the grind and just written a letter! When I was a kid I had to grind mine the hard way, summoning one myself then taming the damned thing. My kid just writes a letter and poof wish granted.
I hand the kid the apple and nudge her hand toward the horse's mouth. It sniffs once, its eyes glow brighter with excitement and the apple gets munched right out of the kid's hand. The kid is delighted, her father is horrified, and the beast seems to enjoy prancing about the yard.
I gently direct the kid-laden horse toward the back gate, "Go take your new friend to the back yard so it doesn't scare the neighbors. Wouldn't want this to end up in tomorrow's paper, would we?" That takes care of the kid and gets the flaming pony out of public view. Now I need to do some adult damage-control.
"But its hooves are on fire!" Yes, yes, got that part... That's really the only thing that threw you off about a dreadsteed? Not the horns? Or the armor plating growing out of its neck? No, you're fixated on the flaming hooves...
"Perhaps it's time we have a discussion about why your side of the family doesn't talk to my side of the family after the wedding..." Oh this is going to be a great conversation. "Or why we generally don't get random visits from my side of the family?" How do I approach this without breaking him? "It wasn't a typo on the wedding seating chart, or on the RSVP list, or really anywhere at all dearest." Another sigh. I feel like there's going to be a lot more of those to come in the next few days. "In fact I'm honestly shocked he managed to keep his behavior civil throughout the event." I drape my hand over my face. I'm getting off topic, he's going to notice I'm stalling... "My grandfather's name isn't Samuel, it's Samael."
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