09-18-2016, 09:23 AM
Butterflies are self propelled flowers.
The meadow seemed to be exactly as it had been before. In the period before the change she had started to spend more and more time in the meadow, fleeing from her home and all the pitiful and mean looks that were stowed upon her. Always had she been looked down upon or had caused others to worry. Ellyse would be a good example of someone who thought little of her, who made fun of her, and her parents – especially her mother – had always looked at her with a broken heart.
And all because of her wings. Beautiful wings, which had shown her mother’s legacy with their blue color. Wings that had been taken away from her upon leaving the mountain. Vlinder could not say that she regretted it terribly, in fact, it was even like had been freed from a burden. Her wings had never functioned properly, never had she been able to fly, for her wings had been too weak to carry her. Instead of wings she now supported a horn, tall and elegant.
But she could not be proud of it. The look in her eyes was dull, almost lifeless. Before she had been freed of her captive life, of the terror that had been lied upon her, the young mare had been broken. First Ellyse, then Tarnished, who had given her to Carnage and then Pollock had come to collect that was had been left of Tarnished’s herd. Her body was scarred, tainted and most obvious of all; her barrel was swollen. She was heavy with child, the dark god’s child. That one was clear as ever, but Vlinder could not tell which scar had been inflicted by which stallion. But they had effectively crushed her own free will and desires.
Her gaze travels over the meadow, which soon would be filled with flowers again. The green had already starting to grow, signalling the early spring, and the snow driven away. However, the view doesn’t appeal to her, her eyes are not taking anything of the beauty in. She watches without looking, gaze dull, as she dips her head to the ground to nibble on some fresh young grass.
And all because of her wings. Beautiful wings, which had shown her mother’s legacy with their blue color. Wings that had been taken away from her upon leaving the mountain. Vlinder could not say that she regretted it terribly, in fact, it was even like had been freed from a burden. Her wings had never functioned properly, never had she been able to fly, for her wings had been too weak to carry her. Instead of wings she now supported a horn, tall and elegant.
But she could not be proud of it. The look in her eyes was dull, almost lifeless. Before she had been freed of her captive life, of the terror that had been lied upon her, the young mare had been broken. First Ellyse, then Tarnished, who had given her to Carnage and then Pollock had come to collect that was had been left of Tarnished’s herd. Her body was scarred, tainted and most obvious of all; her barrel was swollen. She was heavy with child, the dark god’s child. That one was clear as ever, but Vlinder could not tell which scar had been inflicted by which stallion. But they had effectively crushed her own free will and desires.
Her gaze travels over the meadow, which soon would be filled with flowers again. The green had already starting to grow, signalling the early spring, and the snow driven away. However, the view doesn’t appeal to her, her eyes are not taking anything of the beauty in. She watches without looking, gaze dull, as she dips her head to the ground to nibble on some fresh young grass.
Vlinder
Zeik x Felinae