Difference between revisions of "All's Well That Ends Well"

All's Well That Ends Well - a term that fits this sheep child's personality most suitably. Of course he's not some sort of stuffed creature; Wells, as he likes to be called (for he has -two- of them in his name) is, quite obviously, a living and breathing entity - no matter how doll-like he looks.

The Sheep Boy

This child is so small, a perfect human in miniature - save for dainty, tiny cloven hooves, the stubby, four-fingered hands, the barest hint of a muzzle, comically rounded ears, a wooly tail; covered in fleece-like fur, as lithe and muscular as a dancer, or acrobat. Despite his child-like appearance and acts, there is a maturity to his body that belies that label. But he cannot tell you how old he is; for he has no concept of numbers above five, and has long lost interest in the changing of the seasons - though he abhors the coming of winter. He wears a doll's clothes, so small is he - ill-fitting things, seemingly stolen and hastily fashioned to fit his tiny frame.

History

Long ago, in a land far far away - let it be known as Barras, and leave it at that - there lived what may be known as a utopian society; even though it was lead by men, and women, most cruel. There were many persons of such prestige, of all races; one could certainly *boast* that Barras was blind to the very subject of race. Vampires and Werewolves consorted with Demons, Humans, and Elves, in grand balls of such sweeping nature that the High Courts of other nations would be put to shame. For this class, these Highborne, were all wizards and witches most powerful. This perfect society was *run* buy their magics, and they need not lift a finger for themselves.

But though they did not discriminate through physical differences, or color of skin, they were most heartless when it came to those who were born without the magics they weilded like selfish children. Siblings were shunned, entire families heartlessly abandoned to fend for themselves in slums outside the Utopian City, if they were not *lucky* enough to possess the Power. In these crawling settlements, people would vanish, *disappear* ... and through these unfortunate souls, those who were not immortal lengthened their youth and vitality; to revel in their hedonistic lives for another decade, or to create beautiful monstrosities to amuse and serve them.

Through this a toy was created; a gift to a pair of girl-twins on their namingday. Even the Highbourne admired this work of art, this perfect melding of lamb and human, as he was revealed. And only as time went, and as he grew, did the flower blossom even more. He was raised in innocence, in ignorance - forever a play-thing for his little girls. He was never discarded or cruelly shoved away, even as they too grew into adulthood. He was *cherished*, and loved; taken everywhere, to swirling parties and booming concerts, to Market ventures and parades, wearing nothing but the finest of clothes and eating the richest of foods.

There was a murmuring that grew to angry words; angry words into angry roars. Roars from opressed voices, taken to swirling heights, turned into the merciless words of fire. Revolution was whispered; the destructive magics the Highbourne once used to lord over the non-gifted twisted out of their control as they tried to call on it once more, to quell the screaming masses; *destroying* all.

Is it odd this lamb-child was smuggled away, stolen in the midst of that terrible night by these angry mobs? He had been found, this delicate thing; his eyes unable to understand what had happened, what *was* happening? He was hated, for he represented slavery without protest; but they did not kill him in that burning hall where his Masters had died, carrying him away instead. Barras was destroyed. Looting, panic; the same hedonism that the Highbourne had displayed turned, insidious as they entered the Rebels who had fought against such things.

He was frightened. So many changelings like he were having their blood split; were weeping as horrible things he did not understand were done to them. Of them all, he was the smallest; of them all, he alone had the wits to escape; an independant streak that had been *enouraged* by the girls that had lovingly raised him.

And he lived happily ever after, to the end of his days... but in truth he has spent those days wandering the world, a child of light and purity; in some ways, unable to fathom how his fortunes have changed... but living life, reveling in every day, as only he truely can.