Viva La Vivda or Death and All His Friends
Xylo had grown thin. His draft build no longer made others appear thin. In fact, he had become rather like a skeleton. His bones beginning to protrude from under his coat, his eyes sunken. He appeared the epitome of the word dead inside. Yet nothing could wake him up like thinking he had offended another being. So after his words hit home for Fart, his head fell a little lower and he shook it side to side in dismay.
"No, no, of course not." He looked him in the eye, the best man-to-man-respect tactic he really knew. "Please do not leave." Of course, he wasn't entirely sure why he said it. He had nothing to bring to the conversation, no real contribution to be made. Try as he might, speaking was difficult and trying to muster up fake enthusiasm seemed nearly impossible. Then again, his company did not seem too talented at making friends and conversation either.
Hell, Adaline was doing the best. He seemed to have the same general reaction as Fart when the lady called herself a silly girl. Xylo scoffed, then realizing it could come across rude. He nodded along as the other stallion assured her she did not seem like a silly girl. His lips parted, his vocal coming out low and monotonous, yet still somehow sounding genuine. "A silly girl is far more common to find...You, Adaline, I imagine not so much." He paused, eyes drifting lazily between the duo infront of him. Then the neon creation asked a question that sent a pang to his heart. Were there other nice girls? Of course there are! He wanted to yell, his mind flooded with thoughts and memories of her. Her muzzle against his neck, her words sweet as nectar filling his ears. But alas, yelling would not bring her back. Nothing would. Instead he settled on, "There are all types of females out there, Fart. Nice and not just like anything else." Another heavy pause before he added, "Fart is an interesting name, but it's unique, like you." He meant it as a compliment, but how it came across was hard to say.
Adaline had asked an open ended question that begged an answer. What had brought them to the meadow that day? Xylo found himself oddly relating to his new comrade's answer. Alone, lonely, the two words that described the last year or so of his life. He knew the feeling. He enjoyed being alone, solitude was good for the mind. But lately he had been alone and lonely, a combination that could break even the strongest of spirits.
"I suppose I'm here for that very same reason." A pause. "What about you, Adaline?" He looked pointedly at her. She was a curious female, more to herself and quiet than most he encountered. Surely she had a story as well.
Xylo
