every night she sharpens her steel on the hipbone she made from me. kisses the mouth she took, the one that says her name right and doesn’t bite. sometimes she calls me baby and I swallow my own tongue.
sometimes she hands me the knife just to watch me give it back.
sometimes she hands me the knife just to watch me give it back.
pleasure
Their father had encouraged her to make friends of her own, but Pleasure found the idea absolutely dreadful. Why on earth would she want to be apart from Pandemonium when they have spent every moment of their existence together? Ophanim had said she needed to learn independence, which was the largest word she had ever heard him use, and then he nudged her off to the playground.
She’s still huffing and puffing her annoyance as she bounces along into the foreign area. Her mauve halo turns slowly above her head and the very tip of her nose shows the faintest hint of a peach color, but she is otherwise entirely ordinary. The black filly pauses to survey the other children as she stands in the shade of an old oak bent slightly to the left. They all seem awful. Some of them shriek as they play tag while others simply lay in the grasses and chat. Her father must want to torture her. That’s the only conclusion she can reach from this.
But there is a pond, she notices, and being so angry has made her rather thirsty. Pleasure keeps her chin lifted high while she carefully tiptoes between the little clusters of other children. She keeps her bright blue eyes trained on the pond so as not to seem interested in those around her. Their thoughts are loud and dizzying enough as it is. The dark girl lowers her head and drinks quietly. That is, until someone seems to be thinking of her.
She lifts her head abruptly and turns her head left, right, and left again to try and discern just who is watching her. How dare they! Pleasure gives a soft snort and turns to examine the other children. Her gaze falls on a colt who seems to be also watching her, and she puffs up in her chest in indignation. The filly marches right up to him and looks him over, clearly judgmental as she gives little a “hm!” and “huh!” repeatedly.
“How do you like being stared at? Not so nice, is it, Shiny Boy?” she demands as she watches him. It doesn’t occur to her that he might’ve just wanted to make a friend.
She’s still huffing and puffing her annoyance as she bounces along into the foreign area. Her mauve halo turns slowly above her head and the very tip of her nose shows the faintest hint of a peach color, but she is otherwise entirely ordinary. The black filly pauses to survey the other children as she stands in the shade of an old oak bent slightly to the left. They all seem awful. Some of them shriek as they play tag while others simply lay in the grasses and chat. Her father must want to torture her. That’s the only conclusion she can reach from this.
But there is a pond, she notices, and being so angry has made her rather thirsty. Pleasure keeps her chin lifted high while she carefully tiptoes between the little clusters of other children. She keeps her bright blue eyes trained on the pond so as not to seem interested in those around her. Their thoughts are loud and dizzying enough as it is. The dark girl lowers her head and drinks quietly. That is, until someone seems to be thinking of her.
She lifts her head abruptly and turns her head left, right, and left again to try and discern just who is watching her. How dare they! Pleasure gives a soft snort and turns to examine the other children. Her gaze falls on a colt who seems to be also watching her, and she puffs up in her chest in indignation. The filly marches right up to him and looks him over, clearly judgmental as she gives little a “hm!” and “huh!” repeatedly.
“How do you like being stared at? Not so nice, is it, Shiny Boy?” she demands as she watches him. It doesn’t occur to her that he might’ve just wanted to make a friend.