03-01-2021, 11:03 AM
It is survival. Me or her. I know this, deep down, because it's a truth that's been resurrected in my mind. Golden palomino and gaudy lavender and pink blur in my eyes, a cackling voice goading me on from a safe distance. The scent of rotting meat is in my nose, cloying and throat-clotting. It's like blood, that way.
Stuttering, halting words bounce off my mind. I snap at empty air, looking for an outlet for the violence. "You took her, you took her, and you're wearing her skin." I mutter, feeling the world slip unexpectedly beneath my feet. The glinting banners of my wings shoot out to balance myself, shedding a flurry of pastel down as they do.
Never mind that she is far younger than Miela would have been by now. That they look nothing alike. My mind has blurred them together in a wobbly caricature, and the look of fear is the same no matter who's face is wearing it.
Survive, that's what I've always done. Some days with more success than others.
I ache, I throb, and I want it all to go away. A wordless scream rips through my throat. "Give it back!" I demand, in a voice I don't recognize. I lunge snapping, and instead of dull equine teeth, it's a raptor's cruel beak that seeks to tear the skin from her flesh.
At long last, my exterior reflects the fractured depth of me. I am caught between bird and horse, in the most grotesque of ways. Feathers sprout randomly from my skin, my hooves are half-split into stubby claws. I am a thing that exists when it very clearly shouldn't, and I am weeping with the pain of it.
@[Aela]
Stuttering, halting words bounce off my mind. I snap at empty air, looking for an outlet for the violence. "You took her, you took her, and you're wearing her skin." I mutter, feeling the world slip unexpectedly beneath my feet. The glinting banners of my wings shoot out to balance myself, shedding a flurry of pastel down as they do.
Never mind that she is far younger than Miela would have been by now. That they look nothing alike. My mind has blurred them together in a wobbly caricature, and the look of fear is the same no matter who's face is wearing it.
Survive, that's what I've always done. Some days with more success than others.
I ache, I throb, and I want it all to go away. A wordless scream rips through my throat. "Give it back!" I demand, in a voice I don't recognize. I lunge snapping, and instead of dull equine teeth, it's a raptor's cruel beak that seeks to tear the skin from her flesh.
At long last, my exterior reflects the fractured depth of me. I am caught between bird and horse, in the most grotesque of ways. Feathers sprout randomly from my skin, my hooves are half-split into stubby claws. I am a thing that exists when it very clearly shouldn't, and I am weeping with the pain of it.
@[Aela]