02-10-2021, 07:31 PM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
In all the friendships Wishbone has made in her life so far, the strongest have been found amid chaos. Running away from a cursed, raging father with Wolfbane; sweating through endless sparring sessions with Scorch; sharing the experience of Death and subsequent Life after with Svedka; climbing Tephra’s volcano with Lilliana while the pain of grief fuels them. It seems that the iron and fire of life (and death, in some cases) has a way of knitting souls together.
Though she has only known Mazikeen for a few hours, Wishbone senses that they will see each other again. Something about the shapeshifter calls to the purple mare, something that reminds her of her blue-eyed brother and their wild spirits. A desire to remain unafraid of the world, perhaps. Or maybe the ferocity of a flame that wishes to burn bright and hard and long.
Regardless, Wishbone can feel the heat of exhaustion creep behind her head. Mazikeen suggests security and sleep as if she had read the purple mare’s mind, and it brings a smile to Wishbone’s mouth. “That sounds perfect.” She is too tired to wonder if Mazikeen has questions about what has happened (and she is undoubtedly too exhausted to answer them honestly). Still, she does touch her dark nose to her newfound friend’s shoulder in silent camaraderie. “I’m too tired even to think right now.”
With an easy smile, Wishbone heads in the direction of the Meadow, where the trees will be thinner, and they can sleep knowing that they have each other to rely on until it comes time to part ways.
Though she has only known Mazikeen for a few hours, Wishbone senses that they will see each other again. Something about the shapeshifter calls to the purple mare, something that reminds her of her blue-eyed brother and their wild spirits. A desire to remain unafraid of the world, perhaps. Or maybe the ferocity of a flame that wishes to burn bright and hard and long.
Regardless, Wishbone can feel the heat of exhaustion creep behind her head. Mazikeen suggests security and sleep as if she had read the purple mare’s mind, and it brings a smile to Wishbone’s mouth. “That sounds perfect.” She is too tired to wonder if Mazikeen has questions about what has happened (and she is undoubtedly too exhausted to answer them honestly). Still, she does touch her dark nose to her newfound friend’s shoulder in silent camaraderie. “I’m too tired even to think right now.”
With an easy smile, Wishbone heads in the direction of the Meadow, where the trees will be thinner, and they can sleep knowing that they have each other to rely on until it comes time to part ways.
@[Mazikeen]