wizard college is going to kill me I swear to god. I just saw someone without a component satchel reach into their pocket and pull out a handful of LOOSE tapioca to use as a substitute for blood in their fell ritual. and it worked. I've never been so fucking mad.
some more wizard & his world's unicorn lore: silver likes to make sure young unicorns learn certain skills to not only survive as a unicorn, but thrive. and also unicorns can walk on clouds because magic
Category: Fantasy
Characters: Wizard, O'bella
Warnings: The process of hunting to eating.
Summary: A quick pov from Wizard when he first met man with a focus on seeing people kill and eat a stag.
Preview:
In the past living creatures were categorized into two sides: the mortals and the immortals. The titles are self-explanatory. In recent years there has been further division by well renowned scientists. The immortals have a further two categories of magical and mythical.
The separation comes from death. Magicals may be immortal yet they can be killed. Mythical creatures, such as Unicorns, do not die. Like the Phoenix we can rise from our ashes and be rebirthed.
Only three known mythicals exist: Unicorns, Dragons, and Phoenixes. We are beings of pure magic that can only be created, never destroyed. This means the concept of death and afterlife in something that is not understood by us. No matter how many hours one puts in the study of death, we will never understand the concept of an afterlife.
I believe that a piece of death as a concept comes directly from the emotion of fear.
And I have feared before.
I was only two months of age when I found the three-pronged stag. As later observations would tell me this indicated age. He had his own fawns from that spring in the same age group as myself.
As a Unicorn I easily blended into the family. I became one of their own, and they became mine.
In my fifth year the hunters came during springtime. I had never strayed from the side of the buck. He had become a father figure and then a friend as we aged together.
The hunters came every year but the buck led us to safety. Unlike me he was stricken with mortality. His age slowed him and nature would one day take its course.
It happened on a rainy afternoon with thunder and lightning in the sky. It had been like that for the past five suns and the woods had been desolate of man. Their stomachs must have been empty because they came with bows and arrows and shot after anything that moved.
We had been listening and moving then moving and listening. It was a whole group of them going in circles until we were pinned in the center. They taunted us with doe calls that came from every direction.
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