09-13-2016, 07:33 PM
The boy's sharp perceptions noted everything silently, including the confusion the male painted so delicately on to his cold face.
Where there should have been a sincere look of apology for the hurt she so openly demonstrated, or better yet words of such, instead lay justification and self-pity, and then further still into judgement. The golden stallion's eyes scrutinized her figure, top to bottom to top, looking for wounds, scars, defects. Comparing her. As if her pain was a selfish act when there were others in far more physical trauma. Who was he to dare judge her heart's wounds?
Her injuries glared so brightly in her eyes, her voice. Spiritual scars marring her gentle soul. Would he dare write that off as if it did not matter, as if it was somehow less than another's pain? There she stood in all her truth of hurt, and he was twisting himself into the victim, his sad little eyes screaming why do you stab me with this harsh tone. Dovev scoffed, but held back any comment.
He claims he has come to seek her out, check on her health, yet his actions cry lie. Were he so interested in her well-being, he'd have sought her out when he noticed her missing, far beyond now. With a glance to Mother, he sees the subtle softening in her strength, and the colt's eyes harden. She was too pure to protect herself from such manipulations, slowly falling for that act of false genuineness, and Dovev would not allow it in his presence. He returns his steely gaze to the elder stallion's mask, his gold-of-Midas face and melting voice sighing like the innocent victim he portrayed.
And then his words also admit his lie. His intentions were to see her, he had said. But no. As if a speech had been prepared, already repeated to so many others, he explains he has petitioned with some sort of alliance and claimed a land. His conquest of greed had come before he even thought of Cerva, and possibly others still. With his own words, he paints his priorities so clearly. Oh, he would surely believe he thought of others, even dare to claim their well-being was his sole purpose in this quest of his, but actions speak far louder than honeyed words.
And then, as if the bold little colt's straightforward manner had goaded him into submission, the elder stallion, too, gets straight to the matter of his heart, inviting them to join him and see this place that was more important than Cerva's state of health. This was what he was truly interested in. Just another body to add to his tally.
"You smell like my father" she says in her sweet voice, again tinged and strained with misery. And now he called upon more agony, not just with his apparent abandonment of her, but this memory of her father who also likely left her behind. Well she'd never be left alone again, not while breath still pulled oxygen to Dovev's lungs and blood still pumped strongly to his heart.
The colt had had enough of this.
"I could show you the way," he'd said so sweetly. That will not be necessary, Dovev injected calmly, shifting casually in place before Cerva like a shield, protecting her from the pain that washed off this old acquaintance of hers in waves. He would guard her heart when she could not, so stealthily manipulated into questioning her own aching emotions.
Whether the stallion was at fault for her wounds or not was of no import. Her emotions were the truth in this, and when he should have nurtured them, he instead turned to his own gains, his own desires. She didn't need anyone like that in her life, and Dovev would make it so.
Come, Mother, he said passively, his eyes glittering like sharpened obsidian never leaving the stallion. We have no need of his assistance. Nor a want of it. His hip brushed her chest gently but firmly, reassuring her with his hardened resolve. They were not so desperate for a home that they would follow this pretty face and ignore the reality of his true intentions.
Where there should have been a sincere look of apology for the hurt she so openly demonstrated, or better yet words of such, instead lay justification and self-pity, and then further still into judgement. The golden stallion's eyes scrutinized her figure, top to bottom to top, looking for wounds, scars, defects. Comparing her. As if her pain was a selfish act when there were others in far more physical trauma. Who was he to dare judge her heart's wounds?
Her injuries glared so brightly in her eyes, her voice. Spiritual scars marring her gentle soul. Would he dare write that off as if it did not matter, as if it was somehow less than another's pain? There she stood in all her truth of hurt, and he was twisting himself into the victim, his sad little eyes screaming why do you stab me with this harsh tone. Dovev scoffed, but held back any comment.
He claims he has come to seek her out, check on her health, yet his actions cry lie. Were he so interested in her well-being, he'd have sought her out when he noticed her missing, far beyond now. With a glance to Mother, he sees the subtle softening in her strength, and the colt's eyes harden. She was too pure to protect herself from such manipulations, slowly falling for that act of false genuineness, and Dovev would not allow it in his presence. He returns his steely gaze to the elder stallion's mask, his gold-of-Midas face and melting voice sighing like the innocent victim he portrayed.
And then his words also admit his lie. His intentions were to see her, he had said. But no. As if a speech had been prepared, already repeated to so many others, he explains he has petitioned with some sort of alliance and claimed a land. His conquest of greed had come before he even thought of Cerva, and possibly others still. With his own words, he paints his priorities so clearly. Oh, he would surely believe he thought of others, even dare to claim their well-being was his sole purpose in this quest of his, but actions speak far louder than honeyed words.
And then, as if the bold little colt's straightforward manner had goaded him into submission, the elder stallion, too, gets straight to the matter of his heart, inviting them to join him and see this place that was more important than Cerva's state of health. This was what he was truly interested in. Just another body to add to his tally.
"You smell like my father" she says in her sweet voice, again tinged and strained with misery. And now he called upon more agony, not just with his apparent abandonment of her, but this memory of her father who also likely left her behind. Well she'd never be left alone again, not while breath still pulled oxygen to Dovev's lungs and blood still pumped strongly to his heart.
The colt had had enough of this.
"I could show you the way," he'd said so sweetly. That will not be necessary, Dovev injected calmly, shifting casually in place before Cerva like a shield, protecting her from the pain that washed off this old acquaintance of hers in waves. He would guard her heart when she could not, so stealthily manipulated into questioning her own aching emotions.
Whether the stallion was at fault for her wounds or not was of no import. Her emotions were the truth in this, and when he should have nurtured them, he instead turned to his own gains, his own desires. She didn't need anyone like that in her life, and Dovev would make it so.
Come, Mother, he said passively, his eyes glittering like sharpened obsidian never leaving the stallion. We have no need of his assistance. Nor a want of it. His hip brushed her chest gently but firmly, reassuring her with his hardened resolve. They were not so desperate for a home that they would follow this pretty face and ignore the reality of his true intentions.
