There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
It is ironic really. The silver mare is the epitome of beauty, with her shimmering skin and perfectly unmarked body. Joscelin once might have been considered quite stunning, until she had shattered. That the mare might wish to bear the marks of her torment upon her skin is baffling to her. Anyone need only glance at her to know of how she had once broken. But then, anyone had only to look at her to know how she had once lived. Of how she had beat the odds and made herself into something more. So though those scars remind her of terrible things, she chooses to wear them as badges. A testament of her survival.
It has also served to mystify others, to cause them to wonder. And that she can use to her advantage. So, in the end, some good had arisen from her torment.
But she does wonder. She wonders how this woman had managed to escape unmarked. Wonders why He had let her go so easily. And then she shows her the brand. His brand, etched indelibly upon her neck. The single mark she shall bear for the remainder of her days. But it is small, almost insignificant.
Joscelin frowns, golden gaze lingering upon that mark. Without even considering the action, she brings her pale muzzle up, brushing her lips gently against the scar. Just as Perse had wished to feel her cracks, she wants to know what his brand feels like. It is an odd thing, an affliction, drawing her closer, willing her to understand.
Does it hurt?
The fractured mare’s soft words whisper against her skin, breath fanning silver tresses as her muzzle hovers above the only flawed piece of her.
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria