Self-Absorbed [Private]

[The Jenn]

((OOC: So yeah, this is Dorian writing snippets of his memoir, vain creature that he is. If for some reason someone would like to disturb him, this can turn into a not-private RP. Otherwise, it's private. ^_^))

Dorian rested against the rough face of a mausoleum's stone wall, eyes closed and grimace firmly in place on his muzzle as his fingers tried in vain to untangle some of his mane. It was his most beautiful feature by far, a gift from both parents, but outside of a warren it was a terrible mess to care for. It had delighted his mother, though, and him even more so when he was finally old enough to appreciate it for the asset it was.

After that was as arranged as it was likely to get, he wrapped it with leather ties and let it rest against his shoulder, the bangs floating back to sit against the side of his face. At least it wasn't humid here. That was probably his native region's most wonderful advantage. One of its primary disadvantages, of course, was how horribly dry it tended to be. Either there was too much texture or too little. Ah well. Such a thing was merely the curse of being beautiful and it was something he had bravely resigned himself to many years ago.

Another moment's idle rest found him reaching for the small pack sitting off to the side, right next to him, and pulling out a small notebook and an ink pen. As much as he often begrudged the strict nature of his education from his Esterberry father, he was now quite glad for the ability to read and write. This way he could begin to write about himself, his past, his travels, and other such interesting things. He may not have enjoyed reading very much, but he had a feeling that he would quite like rereading things about himself later down the road. Thus, it was time to write.

[The Jenn]

Where should he start, though? He'd been away from home for nearly five years and there was an awful lot to cover. Or maybe home was where he should start? Begin at the beginning? The thought rather appealed to him. He had no idea who his audience would be besides himself, but he supposed using the general 'you' would get his point across well enough.

To begin this writing, my name is Dorian, son of Myrna, Hisstor Doe, and Carolus, Esterberry Jack. You'll note the order in which I placed my parents' names, as well as the fact that I noted them so quickly? There is, of course, significance to that. Family is quite important, as I'm sure you're well-aware. 'Where do I come from' is more important than 'where am I going', at least in the grand scheme of things. I can thank my mother for that insight.

She was a truly delightful woman. Despite the fact that I saw her less often than I saw the Leverets or my father, she was certainly the most influential person in my life, and absolutely beautiful. I inherited most of my looks from her, thank the White Rabbit. The golden markings on her fur translated over perfectly to mine, though my taupe base is a bit darker than hers. Similarly, our manes are of a similar color, though hers was quite short and straight, more of a bob. I can thank my father for the length and texture, and be unspeakably grateful that I didn't inherit the vivid purple color of his. Leave that nonsense to the Esterberries. I would much rather have this glorious gold.

[The Jenn]

Of course, I got a lot more from my mother than my remarkable looks. I learned what it meant to be /Hisstor/. In the entire warren, only she and I were purely of the region, despite the fact that she'd borne two litters before mine. I suppose that was one reason she took to me so well, beyond my natural charm and appeal, and probably the only reason my father allowed her so much interaction with me. He knew enough about our regional advantages - quirks to him, or so I heard - to allow her that bit of familial affection. She had given him three Does out of six children, after all, and I the only male of the lot. He had reason to be pleased with her and grant a few requests.

It was also my mother's insistence that kept me in the warren far after my father might have otherwise chucked me out, the cad. As she so cleverly pointed out, the resemblance between the two of us would be strong as I aged thanks to the mane we shared, and did he really want me out in the world, already a Jack, without a proper education? Mother really did know how to play him beautifully. That was one reason she had remained in his warren for so long. And people say that Esterberries are the smart ones. Hah, I say to them.

Regardless, I was permitted to stay in the warren until I was "properly educated" and could have a decent chance of survival when left to my own devices. On the one hand, that resulted in quite a few grueling years of schooling. On the other hand, it gave my mother time to teach me the important things. Self-confidence and loyalty to one's ancestry were the points she emphasized the most. If I was going to be master of my own warren someday - which I most /certainly/ am - then I would need to have the first in spades. If I was going to be a proper Hisstor, I would need the second just as much, if not more so.

[The Jenn]

Now, on the subject of being a proper Hisstor... obviously it's difficult to form strong familial connections within our society. She's mentioned that it's different for Cards, from what she's heard, and I don't doubt that. Anything would be different with regards to those distasteful creatures and I can thank my ears that it's so.

The little things become more important, she told me, and much of it has to be passed along through items and gifts. Bones and the like. That was one thing she taught me with the greatest of success. Bleached bone is one of the most beautiful colors imaginable, and I wear my ornamentation with the utmost pride. She told me that the bones I now wear on my leg once belonged to her sister, who died at an untimely age due to complications during an illness.

Similarly, the darkly-stained bone hilt of the ancestral dagger she gifted me with once belonged to the bones of a prized Doe of my mother's grandfather and has been passed down in the family for quite a few years. She was so proud to gift it to a son. Unlike my father, she had absolutely no qualms with my gender. She could easily recognize the potential blossoming in my beautiful self.

[The Jenn]

In part because of the bond we had come to share, Mother was quite upset the day I had to leave. So was I, though of course I didn't show it. Well, maybe just a little. But not in front of anyone else. I would have to make do without the luxuries of a warren at nine years of age, a most dreadful thing for an up-and-coming gentleman such as myself. There would be no prepared meals, no neatly swept floors, no library or gardens to amuse. I would have to take care of everything myself.

And I have, for five years now. It's been hard, I will admit, to do without these basic amenities that others may refer to as luxuries. They are only my due as a natural-born Jack of such impossible comeliness and sophisticated taste. I console myself with the knowledge that I only have three or four more years before I myself may endeavor to start a warren and surround myself with beauty.

Before that time, I shall have to find myself at least one Leveret and, even more pressing a matter, a Doe. I should not wish to lose myself to the madness that sadly afflicts those of the more powerful sex without a 'companion'. Father mentioned something about sending me a present should I manage to survive to adulthood, but I cannot count on his generosity for my survival. Never again.