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[attr="id","pegasuscol"]BEAUREGARD DERRING

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heart on your sleeve

“you’re such an easy tell, beau.” “haha, i guess so!”
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what use is there in denying it? when you’ve got a thin understanding of your magic, controlling it isn’t second nature.
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when you’re sad, a rain cloud forms over your head. when you’re mad, your skin becomes red hot lava. when you’re happy, you beam like the sun- your skin glittering in the light. you were as easy a tell as reflective sunglasses in a game of poker.
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to you this meant the world, there was no wrong that could come from this.
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it meant your friends could trust you. it meant you were easy to get along with. it meant people knew your limits and where to draw the line. it was a core part of yourself.
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and if you had your way, you’d keep things exactly as they are.
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but it couldn’t, this is all… temporary.
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domestic bliss

as you grew, so did your magic, and without a teacher, your wings were free to grow as wide as you wanted them to.
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it was thanks to your friends that your aesthetic pushed into its current direction though.
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they wanted to look magical when they played superhero’s and you were all too happy to oblige.
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they started with just wanting ribbons, frills, and small emblems on their normal clothes, easy enough with a little bit of practice and imagination.
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eventually they wanted their clothes to fully transform as well and, with your own personal flair included, full costumes were shaped in minutes.
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the final iteration of your world came when introducing another friend as “the bad guy” and when they would do battle with them, complete with individual transformation sequences. that was the hard part.
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but eventually you got the hang of it, and you had to admit- after learning to hold your concentration without focusing too hard on your illusions- watching them was the most fun you could have from noon 'til night.
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this went on well into your teens, you all crafted a world together, one where each of you could get away from the modernity and enjoy the company of one another even outside of when you played your little game.
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you had hoped that you all could eventually reach a good end, when the time was right.
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but not all stories have a happy ending.
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sudden happenings

one day, in the usual place, around the usual time, we were all enjoying ourselves. lina, seline, mona, kairi and me: beau were getting into character. seline was recently corrupted by an “evil witch” and would have to fight the others with her newfound "dark powers."
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it was winding up to be a huge climax to this arc, hell i was proud of all the background work that went into the choreography; from the spells that were cast to the change in outfits, even to some beats that my friends couldn’t fill out themselves, i had a hand in it all.
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we were just getting to the meat and potatoes of the fight; too lost in our own world to pay attention to what was happening in the real one, until a daemon waltz itself in the middle of a scene. i remember it clearly.
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how could I not?
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it looked like a rat but it had three horns: each different lengths; fangs long and sharp with two canines jutting out like a sabertooth tiger, two sets of eyes- each as red as a blood moon, and besides all this, it had a cute button nose that sniffed at the air, each huff giving pause to the quickened beat of our hearts.
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not a single one of us knew what to do. but they each locked their eyes on me, as if I could do a thing in this moment other than maintain my concentration on the current illusion that i had crafted.
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sometimes i find myself thinking in hindsight: what could I have done?
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maintain the illusion and continue on, pretending like nothing was happening?
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maybe paused the roleplay in the middle of a dramatic scene so i could stick my head out and make sure no one was looking for us or nothing as crazy as this was going on?
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oh or maybe i could have illusioned us into bigger scarier forms of ourselves only for it to be sniffed out and seen through in seconds by the others of a similar likeness that had trailed in after the first that made it onto the scene.
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i find myself hypothesizing on these decisions time in and out. but ultimately, i’d never been so close to a demon in my life. i couldn’t keep my composure then, i don’t have the experience i do now. but knowing this doesn’t make it hurt any less.
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i froze, and when my concentration began to flutter, so did the illusions i had crafted.
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the background was the first to go: the vibrant twilight school grounds replaced with a grungy smoke filled sky.
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then the last attacks that were thrown: their multicolored effects static in the air, centimeters from those that “casted” them.
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and finally, what i struggled to maintain through and through, the clothes: intricate patterns slowly fading; ribbons, barrettes, tiaras' and other accessories of the like drifting away, revealing the clothing- mundane in comparison- beneath.
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when all was said and done, we were just a group of near adults in some open alley, surrounded by the remnants of what was once their home town.
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it felt like an eternity had passed before they moved in, each sniffing the air before one got too close to lina, nipping her ankle. one wince was enough for them to tell they had live prey.
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idiots

first it was lina, swarmed in seconds after the first had gotten a taste.
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maybe all that roleplaying had gotten to their heads or something, because, right after that, they really thought they stood a chance. because the second to go was seline.
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why? she ran to lina’s side ofcourse. she attemptied to bat them away from her, only to get swarmed almost immediately.
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mona was next, she just looked at me and kairi then nodded as if us two would know what that meant, then let out a scream, a majority of attention getting thrown on her- no doubt a noble sacrifice in her eyes.
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and finally kairi, who had the most sense out of all of us. she ran while they were busy with the other three, but could only make it so far. four legs are faster than two, and when you multiply those four by six, it’s obvious who’s winning that rat race.
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... then there was me, still sitting there, stunned in silence at what was happening in front of me. i couldn’t move, i couldn’t scream, i could do nothing, but shuffle through my emotions.
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frostbitten fingers at the dread turned to a downpour of rain overhead, then lava that roiled at the stupidity of myself as well as my friends and the pestilence that had greeted them, and begged to cause such grief. emotions cycle and cycle until those that attacked my friends turn their sights on me, a spectacle to behold. ice, water, lava, ice, water, lava, ice, water, lava.
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i should have died then and there. but i was the lucky one, the one that made it all possible, the one that was supposed to do something. the only one of us that actually had magic; not magic that could do anything of course, but it was still more than they had.
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the only reason i survived was because of this magic, and the familiar that it had come with.
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it was one who hasn’t ever show themselves but i could always tell was there. whether it was a flower in the background, a bag of luggage someone in the group was carrying, or a major enemy in their campaign. they were always something i never created but was apart of the scene when i used my magic.
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i grip their tentacle and we both vanish from sight, tiptoeing around the horde and avoiding the remains of those who were once my friends. i escape with my life, but not without guilt.
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chip on your shoulder

it’s been some time since everything has happened. it’s hard to tell if you’re better or you’ve just had time to process. all you know is that stagnation won’t get you anywhere.
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the only way you can move forward is if you keep walking, and the lighter the load, the easier it is to keep moving.
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you find it easier to focus on yourself instead of others anyways. you don't deserve to have any friends if you're just a spectator of their lives from the beginning to the end.