02-26-2020, 09:47 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-26-2020, 09:49 AM by Neverwhere.)
Relax
She doesn't know whose voice that is, it isn't hers, certainly, when every instinct is telling her to do the opposite, to leave, to run. But as much as she may say that she dislikes the unnatural disorder caused by magic, she is herself an unnatural creature. How many instincts did she ignore in the name of overcoming the blindness that had plagued her before she came here? And, certainly, she has had few troubles accepting the sight that was so graciously returned to her, so she stands before the pale mare frowning quietly through her excited remembrance and offer laced with disappointment. There is something in the little magician's willing nature that breaks past barriers and Neverwhere has been here long enough now to know there are some demands that are, perhaps, a little unfair of her to make. She sighs audibly and shakes her head.
"That won't be necessary," she says, watching the plaited grass birds flutter away with some relief just the same, "I find it hard to believe being a tree was very relaxing. I think I would feel trapped."
She already feels trapped and her roots are only figurative.
It's funny how many of her conversations seem to come back to trees, and the thought makes her turn back to the porcelain mare with something akin to curiosity. It's hard to tell if the scent of plants surrounds her because of where she lives, or because of what - of who - she is. Then, a thought that makes the frown fade.
"Listen, I know we just met and you don't owe me anything, but could you do me a favor? If you ever run into a daydreaming red mare named Lilliana, would you find a way to tell her that you were miserable as a tree and all you did was scream?" Despite the subtle smile that ghosts across her lips, she manages to look quite serious as she makes the ridiculous request, "Please, it would mean a lot to me if you could."
She doesn't know whose voice that is, it isn't hers, certainly, when every instinct is telling her to do the opposite, to leave, to run. But as much as she may say that she dislikes the unnatural disorder caused by magic, she is herself an unnatural creature. How many instincts did she ignore in the name of overcoming the blindness that had plagued her before she came here? And, certainly, she has had few troubles accepting the sight that was so graciously returned to her, so she stands before the pale mare frowning quietly through her excited remembrance and offer laced with disappointment. There is something in the little magician's willing nature that breaks past barriers and Neverwhere has been here long enough now to know there are some demands that are, perhaps, a little unfair of her to make. She sighs audibly and shakes her head.
"That won't be necessary," she says, watching the plaited grass birds flutter away with some relief just the same, "I find it hard to believe being a tree was very relaxing. I think I would feel trapped."
She already feels trapped and her roots are only figurative.
It's funny how many of her conversations seem to come back to trees, and the thought makes her turn back to the porcelain mare with something akin to curiosity. It's hard to tell if the scent of plants surrounds her because of where she lives, or because of what - of who - she is. Then, a thought that makes the frown fade.
"Listen, I know we just met and you don't owe me anything, but could you do me a favor? If you ever run into a daydreaming red mare named Lilliana, would you find a way to tell her that you were miserable as a tree and all you did was scream?" Despite the subtle smile that ghosts across her lips, she manages to look quite serious as she makes the ridiculous request, "Please, it would mean a lot to me if you could."
Neverwhere
...
@[Isilya]
