Kin Species: Kimeti
Kin Name: Lost Sun
Gender: Doe
Growing or Non: Non
Request: Sunset tones--deep purple, red or orange bands, a little gold and indigo, a sun sinking into clouds, or a sun on an ankle. Yellow or gold eyes--no glow.
Inspiration photos:
THE EDITS BREAKDOWN: Fluffy, cloud-like hair, please! And a scar--white fur or scar-like fur on her shoulder.
Naming story:
It was warm. It was bright, and everything was so vivid! She could see everything, and she fell in love with the swath of blue that stretched endlessly above, with the too-bright circle that cast a coat of warmth across her flanks.
She danced, and she ran, and she called to the warm-bright that seemed to smile and sing back, and she rolled, and she napped.
The warm-bright moved from bright yellow-white overhead to a deep range-red hanging low, brushing the tall-greens. It sank, and sank, creeping ever lower.
When she woke again, the warmth was dissipating, the light was no longer clear and bright, and shadows crept along the edges of everything, lengthening and reaching for her hooves. She wavered, looking frantically around for her warm-bright, and saw it falling from the immense blue.
She ran. She ran and leaped, desperate to catch the warmth, to drag it back to banish the darkness and the unease. She thundered through the green, the cold, shockingly cold wet, leaping and crying for the warm-bright to return. It was futile; the warm-bright slipped from the blue, below the green, and she skidded to a stop in shock.
Her warm-bright was gone. She called and called, but it did not return. She curled up and cried, fearful and cold and alone. But her tears dried, and she rose, firm on young hooves.
Her warm-bright was lost, so she would find it.
She turned, and started for the trees, and Lost Sun slid into the darkness to find her missing warmth.
Personality:
As a hatchling she was concerned the sun would never come back--every day was the last. She was reckless and childish and selfish, throwing herself forward in a desperate attempt to keep her fears from coming true. Now, as she's lived through many sunsets and sunrises, she's calmer, bough she still harbors a secret fear that each day is the final day. She still goes full-tilt forward, but only after some consideration--throwing herself off a cliff in an attempt to catch the sun ended poorly and left a permanent mark on her shoulder.
