when you think of love do you think of pain?; kreios

[Kreios]

kreios don't you tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash Though I’m accustomed to being tall, the occasions when I happen to find myself in conversation with a much smaller horse have always made me feel a little out of place. The same thing happens with children, I’ve found, though I’ve always been comforted by the fact that someday they might be a little larger. This mare, on the other hand, seems only to grow smaller as I approach, and she is most definitely an adult. Perhaps she’ll like Sloene, I think; they can be small together. For a moment she doesn’t answer, and I tilt my head curiously to the side. Had I said something odd? No, I think, I am always careful when I speak, and I am sure that I hadn’t said anything terribly offensive. “Syl,” I repeat when she gives her name, rather pleased by the shortness of it. “It’s nice to meet you.” “If you’d like a home, I can offer you one.” I say, doing my best to determine if she wants to hear more. There’s no immediate disgust on her face (I hope) and I press on by adding. “The Orange Country is a nice place to live, and there are a few other mares there for company if you’d like that.” She might also like to be alone, which is also possible. The herdland, while small, is surrounded by vast canyons that are rarely explored.