03-06-2018, 02:58 PM
breckin.
This is the story of a girl… The distance has finally closed and a bay form stands in front of me. The color of his coat is not what holds my attention though, it is the bird-like protrusions extending from his back that I linger on. One might misconstrue my staring as rude, but my gawking stems from curiosity rather than blatant disbelief and my brow quirks slightly to mirror my exact thoughts. Perhaps I would have let my gaze linger where it had previously landed for a while longer, but instead his question draws my eyes to his face. My own rather blank expression is met with his own of genuine conern. Simply put, this confuses me. From my brief experience, strangers do not show empathy for your misfortunes. But quite obviously I am not from here. Brennen. His name is unknown to me, but oddly familiar as the pronunciation rolls off of my pales lips. I suppose it may be due to our names being somewhat similar. Does everyone in these lands have feathered… a brief pause as my gaze returns to my original fascination, appendages? I let his inquiry drop by the wayside for now. My curiosity has the better of me for the time being. The obvious staring I have returned to is only interrupted by the odd feeling one gets when they are being watched. A tingling sensation runs down the length of my spine and for a moment I feel the fleeting sense to finally return to an upright position. But I no longer am forced to make that decision, and instead my attention is demanded by the now forming shape of another equine body. As mesmerizing as it is to watch, I cannot seem to shake the feeling of foreboding and at this point I am no longer sure if it is only the storm. It appears as though the transformation is nearing completion. A moment passes as I wait for the coat of fur to fill in, but it never does. Instead it would seem that Scorch, as she referred to herself as, is simply devoid of any coat. A fitting name, I think to myself and for a brief moment I ponder if she was born that way or if there is perhaps a story behind the mutilation and smoldering eyes. And I am not surprised to find myself supressing the urge to ask her if she ever gets cold. Proper manners are not always my strongest ability. But for the time being I find enough discipline to rein my curiosity in. The words she speaks to Brennen are not lost on me and my head tilts quizzically in response, but I do not respond immediately. Am I a prize to be won? Probably. I hear myself say rather blandly. Truthfully I do not know exactly how far I have come. Breckin. I offer simply in reference to myself. The names Ischia and Nerine do not mean anything to me. I do not say it unkindly, rather simply as a fact and as an invitation for an explanation of what these places may be. who cried a river… and drowned the whole… …world. [mare+knabstrup+black leopard+4 years+avion.] |
