01-09-2020, 12:31 PM
It's easy enough to keep my mouth shut when I'm felling this low. The energy spent on being snide most days seems much more useful keeping me upright at the moment. Not that I need that to be obvious, but the relief I get when the horny girl says there's water nearby is almost visceral.
We're both winged, and the Dark God knows I'd have pushed every ounce of my remaining strength into keeping up had she suggested we fly, but she didn't and I can quietly be... I guess thankful. A tiny bit. Urg. I'm not dumb though, I know I'm in no position to attack help when I really need it. And right now I can feel the dregs of magic sapping at my bones, sucking at the very marrow.
The trip is quiet, and the land opens around us with her rugged beauty. Its good to be back, even if the specifics are still a bit lost on me. I don't yet see the formations that marked the edge of the pool I occupied most days. The adventure I had set myself on blurred time and space, and it was impossible to tell how long I had been away. There was no obvious indication of how much time had or hadn't passed, only that we seemed to be in the same season as I had left.
I hadn't been expecting her to speak. The silence had been a welcome thing, and I resented it that she would break it now. With a grim eye, I accepted that I may as well let her know I wasn't in need of that much help. "Here. Or near enough. This is still Loess, isn't it." A statement, not a question.
Our gaits, similar enough in length that neither of us had to adjust to keep pace with the other, carried us at an easy enough speed toward the water I could now smell on the air. It turned out that a gentle slope was all that kept us from the view of a slate-colored lake. She gave me her name, and it didn't matter, really. Names held about as much weight with me as the down within my wings. Less, even. Worse, I knew she expected a name in return. They always did.
So I gave her the same name I give to everyone. It's not a complete truth, but close enough that it rolls off my tongue like it is.
"Belle."
One word, a syllable away from the one my mother had christened me with, yet it felt much lighter than the promise of Rebelle. Rebel. If naming was a thing of power, then my mother had left me very few options in the world.
The flat surface of the lake beckons me, and I imagine it's something like seeing an old friend. There's safety in the water, and comfort that I dearly need right now. Still, I am aware of the mare beside me, and an unfamiliar sense of altruism bumps uncomfortably at my tongue. "Thank you." The words land awkwardly between us, a phrase that I had never used before without sarcasm or irony. While I can't look at her and say it, the gratitude is uncharacteristically sincere.
@[Oriash]
We're both winged, and the Dark God knows I'd have pushed every ounce of my remaining strength into keeping up had she suggested we fly, but she didn't and I can quietly be... I guess thankful. A tiny bit. Urg. I'm not dumb though, I know I'm in no position to attack help when I really need it. And right now I can feel the dregs of magic sapping at my bones, sucking at the very marrow.
The trip is quiet, and the land opens around us with her rugged beauty. Its good to be back, even if the specifics are still a bit lost on me. I don't yet see the formations that marked the edge of the pool I occupied most days. The adventure I had set myself on blurred time and space, and it was impossible to tell how long I had been away. There was no obvious indication of how much time had or hadn't passed, only that we seemed to be in the same season as I had left.
I hadn't been expecting her to speak. The silence had been a welcome thing, and I resented it that she would break it now. With a grim eye, I accepted that I may as well let her know I wasn't in need of that much help. "Here. Or near enough. This is still Loess, isn't it." A statement, not a question.
Our gaits, similar enough in length that neither of us had to adjust to keep pace with the other, carried us at an easy enough speed toward the water I could now smell on the air. It turned out that a gentle slope was all that kept us from the view of a slate-colored lake. She gave me her name, and it didn't matter, really. Names held about as much weight with me as the down within my wings. Less, even. Worse, I knew she expected a name in return. They always did.
So I gave her the same name I give to everyone. It's not a complete truth, but close enough that it rolls off my tongue like it is.
"Belle."
One word, a syllable away from the one my mother had christened me with, yet it felt much lighter than the promise of Rebelle. Rebel. If naming was a thing of power, then my mother had left me very few options in the world.
The flat surface of the lake beckons me, and I imagine it's something like seeing an old friend. There's safety in the water, and comfort that I dearly need right now. Still, I am aware of the mare beside me, and an unfamiliar sense of altruism bumps uncomfortably at my tongue. "Thank you." The words land awkwardly between us, a phrase that I had never used before without sarcasm or irony. While I can't look at her and say it, the gratitude is uncharacteristically sincere.
@[Oriash]