"
I'm waiting at the edges, head overwhelmed with what feels like a thousand voices, though it's probably no more than twelve. Little voices, big voices, quick voices, slow voices. They all chatter to themselves endlessly, and I'm beginning to feel like there's not enough room for me in my own head.
I don't know if mother knew this would happen, but she'd have left me here either way. A safe place she'd said, as if my safety were her top concern. The second voice, the one she made without moving her lips told me it was because she needed to be away from me for a while. This was better than leaving me behind a rock somewhere. Eased her guilt. Let me make friends. Then I might spend more time with them, and less with her.
Trouble is, it's hard to make friends when you know what they really think of you.
My snakey spaded tail twitches in the grass uneasily. The little nubs of pink that have broken through the skin of my skull catch the light brilliantly against black hair. I am, as my mother says, at least pretty. That doesn't make approaching the others any easier. Not when they all seem so occupied with their own games, their own lives. It's easier to sit in the shadows and watch.
That is until a flurry of activity draws my attention. A colt, I think it's a colt, climbing a tree. That's weird enough on its own, but when he tumble-glides from the boughs back to the ground, his true strangeness becomes more apparent. Wings, massive, gawky things that catch the air on his way down. A tail not too different from mine lashes the air behind him. He's alien, unique, and I can't take my eyes off him.
That turns out to be an awkward thing when his sight lands on me. I try to shrink back into the safety of the shadows, but it's too late. He's seen me, and now seems to be heading my way. My eyes are huge blue pools in my face, wide with panic. I can't run though. I haven't got anywhere to run to. So I stiffen my legs in the cool ground, tail whipping behind me like a wary cat's, and let the winged, clawed, spiked someone come to a halt before me.
My eyes slowly spanned between his face and the flower dropped at my feet, suspicion etching the soft planes of my face. Friends? With me? I waited a moment, for the catch, for the little soundless voice that would betray his secondary motives, but none came. Hesitantly I nodded.
"I guess so," My voice came out small and low, gaze falling back on the pale bloom he'd put between us. "I'm Tarte." A faint almost-smile softened my mouth. Tarte. Short, easy to remember, and not a bad guess as to my future position in life. That's what mother had said when she bestowed the name on me, and I'm still trying to figure out what she meant. But it's mine, and now Yadigar knows it too. It feels like a secret shared. That's what you do with friends, isn't it?
@[yadigar
I've seen devils, i've seen saints
I've seen the line between them fade
I'm waiting at the edges, head overwhelmed with what feels like a thousand voices, though it's probably no more than twelve. Little voices, big voices, quick voices, slow voices. They all chatter to themselves endlessly, and I'm beginning to feel like there's not enough room for me in my own head.
I don't know if mother knew this would happen, but she'd have left me here either way. A safe place she'd said, as if my safety were her top concern. The second voice, the one she made without moving her lips told me it was because she needed to be away from me for a while. This was better than leaving me behind a rock somewhere. Eased her guilt. Let me make friends. Then I might spend more time with them, and less with her.
Trouble is, it's hard to make friends when you know what they really think of you.
My snakey spaded tail twitches in the grass uneasily. The little nubs of pink that have broken through the skin of my skull catch the light brilliantly against black hair. I am, as my mother says, at least pretty. That doesn't make approaching the others any easier. Not when they all seem so occupied with their own games, their own lives. It's easier to sit in the shadows and watch.
That is until a flurry of activity draws my attention. A colt, I think it's a colt, climbing a tree. That's weird enough on its own, but when he tumble-glides from the boughs back to the ground, his true strangeness becomes more apparent. Wings, massive, gawky things that catch the air on his way down. A tail not too different from mine lashes the air behind him. He's alien, unique, and I can't take my eyes off him.
That turns out to be an awkward thing when his sight lands on me. I try to shrink back into the safety of the shadows, but it's too late. He's seen me, and now seems to be heading my way. My eyes are huge blue pools in my face, wide with panic. I can't run though. I haven't got anywhere to run to. So I stiffen my legs in the cool ground, tail whipping behind me like a wary cat's, and let the winged, clawed, spiked someone come to a halt before me.
My eyes slowly spanned between his face and the flower dropped at my feet, suspicion etching the soft planes of my face. Friends? With me? I waited a moment, for the catch, for the little soundless voice that would betray his secondary motives, but none came. Hesitantly I nodded.
"I guess so," My voice came out small and low, gaze falling back on the pale bloom he'd put between us. "I'm Tarte." A faint almost-smile softened my mouth. Tarte. Short, easy to remember, and not a bad guess as to my future position in life. That's what mother had said when she bestowed the name on me, and I'm still trying to figure out what she meant. But it's mine, and now Yadigar knows it too. It feels like a secret shared. That's what you do with friends, isn't it?
TARTE
@[yadigar