03-02-2016, 01:06 PM
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
It is convincing, this act that the silver mare is weaving around them.
Though the filly does not know it is an act. She believes (she wants to believe) that this is all truth - but she has wanted to believe that in the past and how wrong that has gone. (She thinks of the past as if it is some ancient, weather-eroded thing; it is mere days before now that she was born. But to someone so small, time is such a big thing.)
And maybe, one day, she will turn back to this moment, these first few days, and she will be able to tell how they shaped her, how they gave her everything she has. Maybe one day, she will be able to uncover how much they have twisted her.
Because this, surely, this will do something to her, it will claw its way into her and settle inside her heart and her mind and even her soul, and it will never leave. She is sure of this though she does not want to believe it (because not everything can be bad, surely); she is a walking contradiction wrapped inside a green-and-red coat.
Cordis - it is a name that sticks in her mouth, unwilling to leave her lips. She doesn’t dwell on why this is; her own name has a similar effect. Maybe that is what names do - they are not taken but given, by someone else, and perhaps by naming something you are extinguishing some of its freedom.
She thinks she may have been extinguished.
But this mare says she can protect the filly - not a promise but as good as to the green-and-red girl - and Elve feels as though something (something small, something light, but something nonetheless) has been lifted from her back; a golden feather, perhaps.
She watches with wide eyes that are beginning (foolishly) to trust this protector, this saviour of young, lost girls. And she is all but speechless, she wants the mare to burn the monster, she wants the monster to be gone from this world and leave all the innocents alone, but she doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put the words in the air because then it is all her fault; the death and destruction will be on her conscience. But she doesn’t know if she fears that or favours it.
So she doesn’t ask Cordis to burn the monster, she asks her to deliver a fantasy. “How would you do it?” she asks. She wants to imagine the golden stallion being torn from this world as so much will be torn from her.
Though the filly does not know it is an act. She believes (she wants to believe) that this is all truth - but she has wanted to believe that in the past and how wrong that has gone. (She thinks of the past as if it is some ancient, weather-eroded thing; it is mere days before now that she was born. But to someone so small, time is such a big thing.)
And maybe, one day, she will turn back to this moment, these first few days, and she will be able to tell how they shaped her, how they gave her everything she has. Maybe one day, she will be able to uncover how much they have twisted her.
Because this, surely, this will do something to her, it will claw its way into her and settle inside her heart and her mind and even her soul, and it will never leave. She is sure of this though she does not want to believe it (because not everything can be bad, surely); she is a walking contradiction wrapped inside a green-and-red coat.
Cordis - it is a name that sticks in her mouth, unwilling to leave her lips. She doesn’t dwell on why this is; her own name has a similar effect. Maybe that is what names do - they are not taken but given, by someone else, and perhaps by naming something you are extinguishing some of its freedom.
She thinks she may have been extinguished.
But this mare says she can protect the filly - not a promise but as good as to the green-and-red girl - and Elve feels as though something (something small, something light, but something nonetheless) has been lifted from her back; a golden feather, perhaps.
She watches with wide eyes that are beginning (foolishly) to trust this protector, this saviour of young, lost girls. And she is all but speechless, she wants the mare to burn the monster, she wants the monster to be gone from this world and leave all the innocents alone, but she doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put the words in the air because then it is all her fault; the death and destruction will be on her conscience. But she doesn’t know if she fears that or favours it.
So she doesn’t ask Cordis to burn the monster, she asks her to deliver a fantasy. “How would you do it?” she asks. She wants to imagine the golden stallion being torn from this world as so much will be torn from her.
ELVE
i forgot how to word >.<
![[Image: n2oih3.png]](http://i64.tinypic.com/n2oih3.png)