11-21-2015, 02:22 PM
a colorless existence
Drawing her attentions away from the colorless leaves, she looks up, her blue eyes stare once again at the Meadows. She finds herself looking at no one in particular, letting her gaze drift from one group of horses to another. Again someone approaches her, and she wonders if they will be one to shrug or one to curse her. It had become a sort of uneventful game, move along, move along, yell, no no, that one just walked away. It must be terribly disconcerting for them, the way she stared, eyes following as they passed. She didn't say hello, she didn't say buzz off, she didn't even dip her head to acknowledge them.
Another was coming, that much was true, an odd look on his face. It was something to mark the difference in his appearance, as she could not be swayed by his vibrant coloring. Such a strange look, dazed maybe, or confused? Now she changed the game up, trying to place the twist of his features.
He comes to a stop before her, breathing words that were not curses. She flicks her ears forward, pulling her head back as he finishes what he has to say. What a strange boy, she looks back at him blankly, waiting for him to become one that moved on. She waits, an awful long time, but he doesn't move- he doesn't walk away. Please tell me that you're real. His inquiry hangs in the still air, she takes her time to decide how to answer.
"As real as you are." Her response is simple, and certain. She has her own questions though, so she stares him down in the asking. "Shouldn't I be? Who are you?" It was such a very odd thing, this strange boy asking her strange questions. Perhaps it was something in the air, maybe he was ill, or had too much sun to the head this summer. She swishes her tail out behind her, the oranges burning into a deep maroon. Her mane follows suit, before they both return to the color of pumpkin pie.
Another was coming, that much was true, an odd look on his face. It was something to mark the difference in his appearance, as she could not be swayed by his vibrant coloring. Such a strange look, dazed maybe, or confused? Now she changed the game up, trying to place the twist of his features.
He comes to a stop before her, breathing words that were not curses. She flicks her ears forward, pulling her head back as he finishes what he has to say. What a strange boy, she looks back at him blankly, waiting for him to become one that moved on. She waits, an awful long time, but he doesn't move- he doesn't walk away. Please tell me that you're real. His inquiry hangs in the still air, she takes her time to decide how to answer.
"As real as you are." Her response is simple, and certain. She has her own questions though, so she stares him down in the asking. "Shouldn't I be? Who are you?" It was such a very odd thing, this strange boy asking her strange questions. Perhaps it was something in the air, maybe he was ill, or had too much sun to the head this summer. She swishes her tail out behind her, the oranges burning into a deep maroon. Her mane follows suit, before they both return to the color of pumpkin pie.
Bly
never tasting life's delerium