11-04-2016, 08:25 PM
as quickly as her wall came down, the grey mare starts to feel weary again. violence has done nothing, said nothing to raise those flags, but she feels something tingle down her spine. before she says, as if the word held everything and nothing, as if it spoke of the beginning and the end (which it might have for some of beqanna's inhabitants). aletta hides her feelings behind thoughtful eyes, retaking in the sight of the black mare.
and while she felt these eerie things, she is once more intrigued and captivated by the mare. she was or had been magic, and oh, the grey girl had a million questions that she could feel race through her. what was it to be magic, to be part of it? did that make violence part of the land herself? she listens, rapt with attention. she listens like a child given a new bedtime story, eager to hear the next chapter. and she asks with childlike prying, "but why did the land take your magic away?"
this land that purrs and whispers to her, that has opened its borders like a lost parent, took her magic away. and aletta can't quite add up the equation. perhaps she should be afraid of violence, but she insteads feels a reverence for the mare who can conjure such things.
her dark eyes grow a little wider, as she tries to picture walking creature. alive but not alive. and only someone like violence could do such a thing. but she senses the mare misses her creature, her creation. what an image the mare must have created, strolling along the borders of beqanna. such a way to be seen amongst the inhabitants. aletta almost smiles at that. and she says simply as surely as it must be, "of course you will." and aletta honestly wants to believe this, for violence and to believe that what is taken is also given back.
and while she felt these eerie things, she is once more intrigued and captivated by the mare. she was or had been magic, and oh, the grey girl had a million questions that she could feel race through her. what was it to be magic, to be part of it? did that make violence part of the land herself? she listens, rapt with attention. she listens like a child given a new bedtime story, eager to hear the next chapter. and she asks with childlike prying, "but why did the land take your magic away?"
this land that purrs and whispers to her, that has opened its borders like a lost parent, took her magic away. and aletta can't quite add up the equation. perhaps she should be afraid of violence, but she insteads feels a reverence for the mare who can conjure such things.
her dark eyes grow a little wider, as she tries to picture walking creature. alive but not alive. and only someone like violence could do such a thing. but she senses the mare misses her creature, her creation. what an image the mare must have created, strolling along the borders of beqanna. such a way to be seen amongst the inhabitants. aletta almost smiles at that. and she says simply as surely as it must be, "of course you will." and aletta honestly wants to believe this, for violence and to believe that what is taken is also given back.
aletta
the innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.