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+---- Thread: empty, i echo the least footfall; librette (/showthread.php?tid=691)
empty, i echo the least footfall; librette - Amanita - 04-10-2015
I raise listless eyes as the mare near collides with my small, bruised frame. Here hurried apologize solicits only the briefest nod and I expect her to walk away. I do not expect the question. When has anyone besides Eight or Set been concerned with me. Am I okay? I'm not sure who I am anymore. I don't know what to do with myself. I may have just done something incredibly foolish. "I am fairly certain the answer to that is no." I sigh deeply in the manner of one who simply has given up trying. Which is odd considering there isn't much I have bothered to try in my whole life. I have spent it as a shadow, a mere flicker of someone else. How ever is that even living. I look to the mare and notice of the course the beautiful wings laying solidly against her side. How lucky she is to have something that sets her apart, makes her special. I am envious of the wings.
"Have you ever just not known who you were?" It is a deeply personal question but I am naive to those things such as 'personal' questions. I do not know that it may be that I have now offended her. I look with innocent eyes and hope perhaps this stranger can provide more for me.
(OOC: bleh sorry short and sweet!)
RE: empty, i echo the least footfall; librette - Librette - 04-10-2015
As a child you would wait, and watch from far away. But you always knew you'd be the one to work while they all play. If there's one good thing about Librette, it's that she's so terribly awkward she can never let anyone else be awkward either. You could say anything to her, think anything about her, and she wouldn't let it bother her in the slightest. You'd need to offend the Valley to really get her to react. But that doesn't stop her from being taken aback when the other mare actually answers her question honestly. So few will actually own up to it when they're not doing well. So many just kind of glaze over the truth, answering with lies that look sweet and smell sweeter, but deep down they're thoroughly hollow. She's still struggling to figure out how to react to this turn of events when the mare continues on. You might think that Librette is offended by deeply personal questions, but you'd be wrong. She seems to attract them somehow, just the way that she attracts children – both children and feelings are foreign concepts to her, and yet they seem to find their way to her with magnetic frequency. She is tempted to tell the mare that no, she's never felt that. She opens her mouth to say it, but then closes it as she realizes it's a lie. She has felt that – she remembers it with the rush of Magnus' kisses on her crest, the hot heat of their sin. Oh yes, she'd had no idea then. She'd just known that she was wrong, that she was sin, that she was something horrible. "Yes." she answers, her voice softer than it ever is usually. "Yes, I've been there." she pauses. "I met a…friend who helped me through it, gave me purpose again." Could you call Magnus a friend? He was so much more. So indescribably much more. She thinks for a moment about whether she should share the story or not, but she thinks perhaps no, perhaps it's impolite to say anything. Perhaps she should ask this mare something more about her own troubles. "What, uh, what happened?" she looks at the other woman, pausing for just a moment. "If you want to talk about it," Don't weep for me LIBRETTEBecause this will be the labor of my love.
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No need to apologize! Brevity is the soul of wit
