visions of dazzling rooms i'll never get let into; eurwen, brine, neverwhere

[Brine]

Brine

Her journey feels painfully slow. Painful because her heart has grown to weigh a thousand pounds and the never-ending thumping--the constant pressure about to explode from her chest--to serve as a reminder as to what she has left. Slow, because every five minutes the biggest part of her tells her to turn back.

But our little shadow doesn’t, does she?

No, Brine holds true to her newly grown, false sense of confidence. She buries the biggest indicators of what made her decision so utterly horrible, and moves forward under the impression that it had not been a goodbye, but a see you next time.

When I am no longer fucked up.

But she also couldn’t swear, that would be inappropriate to a child, right?

So, to say the least, the beautiful views and contagious energy spilling from Lilliana has nearly no impact on our blue roan who is lost in her own mind-numbing battle. And Eurwen, well, she is quiet and polite and another body to fill space and Brine doesn’t have many complaints at all. In fact, they are tolerable. And coming from a mare who chose the company of her child only because she was forced to give birth, that is saying a lot.

Brine is away, lost in her mind of self doubt and anxiousness. Wondering what Ruth is doing, where she is, if she has made it home safely. Home, how uncanny that only hours ago home had been considered wherever Brine was. And now, well. Now that has changed.

Lilliana speaks, and momentarily Brine feels judgment wash over her. Does she read minds? He skepticism apparent across her face, not having learned how to control her physical expressions and emotions. That was taught in social situations, it was taught through practice. Brine, of course, hasn’t had much practice. Not beyond her little, baby Ruth.

“Thank you,” she finds her ability to show appreciation for the constant generosity Lilliana has shown her, even in previous exchanges. What is it about her? The sadness tugging at the corners of her eyes? Her clear social anxiety? Her suspicious demeanor? The way she casually left her child? Does Lilliana pity her?

At least Eurwen doesn’t hide the fact she came because of Lilliana, and Brine feels irrelevant. She feels as though Eurwen doesn’t have the time or energy to invest in a grieving, child-leaver. And to Brine, she is OK with that. She can live with being irrelevant, she would rather that than be of interest.

Brine shifts her focus back to the chestnut mare, her kind eyes and honest face. The kind of look that makes males swoon at her presence, and females curl into her shadow for protection and guidance. A natural leader, as if hope oozes from her pores. Even Brine could not help but feel slightly better knowing Lilliana had somehow managed to fit Brine into her comforting shadow, too.

And as Eurwen and Lilliana shift gears, speaking of this Neverwhere creature and her whereabouts, Brine focuses on the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, the soft call of frolicking seagulls, and imagines Ruthless bouncing through foamy salt water.

take notice of what light does—to everything

@[Neverwhere] @[lilliana] @[Eurwen]