[private] your ghost haunts me; fyr

[Falter]

these days i'm becoming everything that i hate,
my mind is a place that i can't escape your ghost

Her nutmeg gaze is fastened to the morning sun that continues to rise above the horizon. The tears that fell from her eyes, are now dried, stained on her dark bay cheeks. She is set in stone, like a large boulder, uncertainty clouding her mind like a storm in the horizon, but she holds herself high for this moment where she must accept what the angel had told her. Death. Whatever that meant. Something faint, in the distance, pulls her away from the slow-rolling clouds of uncertainty that were about to consume her. It’s a sensation she has never felt before—but the power flowing throughout her sings softly with it. Blinking, the bay yearling turns her attention towards the approaching jaguar spotted champagne colt. She blinks again, noticing the ghostly girl now that pulls him towards her, guiding him almost by force. Falter feels her body pulling her towards the two that come to her, but she holds herself back, fighting against the power that calls out to the other. It flared madly within her, burning, and cursing her against her resistance. Her mind screamed with caution and uncertainty at the force that burned her from the inside, tearing her apart as she resisted the familiarity that came at her with full force. She stumbles back as the two stop in front of her, the young colt with fire dancing around him and the spirited girl that she felt so drawn. Her eyes are wide with uncertainty, glancing back and forth between them. The force scorches her, she wants to scream out, to let it go. But she cannot. She knows it was too dangerous. It would destroy her, she knows. “Hey,” the spotted stranger says. Her ears swivel forward with caution. She focuses on him with wide eyes, fear filling them now, and she barely hears what he says next until he mentions her. Her. Falter doesn’t want to look at her. It pains her every time she does, but she can’t help it. She cannot help the power that burns within her, that declares to reach out to the spirit at the colt’s side. She looks anyway, still wide-eyed. “I see her,” she answers reluctantly. But I shouldn’t, she was a ghost, a ghoul-like she had seen before, but there was no terror in her eyes, no fear that wanted to make you run. “Is she dead?” Falter whispers softly.

Falter

@Fyr