Posted by Cyan; on November 9, 2008, 10:36 am, in reply to "no rest for the wicked." For awhile he watches the comings and goings of the Academy with a detached interest, observing and keeping track of the idiosyncratic behavior around him only because of his idle, objective curiosity. And while he’s doing this he finds himself approached at last by a teacher – a pretty mare who is vaguely familiar, either because she happens to live in Ni Srilan too or he just happened to see her somewhere and remembers her.
198.7.241.80
Cyan, anyway, has a good memory, even if he usually uses it for evil rather than good. There’s not much Cyan doesn’t use for evil rather than good. Because good is boring and he’s seen over the course of history that good motives often lead to nothing but martyrdom. Cyan does not intend to be martyred.
Murdered, probably. But that’s inevitable, given his, um, personality.
She asks him why his hair’s green. “It’s a matter of chemistry,” he says calmly, regarding her with still green eyes fringed by that electric forelock. “Some mutated gene filled by blood with highly volatile elements. The elements in the pigment cells of my mane and tail react constantly, and their reaction gives off green light.” this he’s only garnered from extensive questioning, probing into realms that the equine mind usually doesn’t have to go through. At some point it occurred to him that his glowing mane was not a normal thing, and that scientific mind demanded to know why. He shrugs, regaling her with a half-smile. “Think of me as a sort of walking Erlenmeyer flask. But you can call me Cyan.”
Cyan. Named for cyanide, which is probably more accurate than even he knows at this point. “What’s your name?” he asks her finally.
SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE
FIRE III;
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