06-02-2015, 01:28 PM
 kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep Like most of Locket's children, she too had been forgotten, discarded, unwanted. Like a doll upon a shelf, tossed aside when the fascination wore off. For Lye, there had never been a fascination. Her pumpkin coloured eyes had looked upon her mother and had seen her horror, her fear. Automatically she had been tossed aside, unwanted. Attacked. Attacked for being born? What sort of mother did such a thing? Lye was a troubled young girl, she wore her heart upon her sleeve. And spent a long time of her life roaming The Beach. the stench of death she had found becoming, almost comforting. But there comes a time in a girl's life when she needed to escape the salty air, the sand in her coat. Like a raven she flew through the fields, long and hard, her canter as fast as the melting snow could let her go, and her unsteady right hind could allow. But she went, she went with a blinded fury, a cascade of ebony feathers splaying around her limbs in a furious flurry. She had no brakes, no intention of stopping; it was the entire meadow or nothing, but she needed to run. She needed the escape. the flashbacks of her past, she ran from quicker. Her stride lengthening, nearing a full gallop, she closed her eyes. If she hit a tree, she would lay there, stunned. staring up at the darkening sky and would make a wish upon a falling star. But she didn't. instead, she came across a cliff, a beach; a familiar salty scent reaching her nostrils. She stopped, careened to a halt and sent a splay of rocks skitting over the edge. Her eyes came across something down below, bobbing, merging with the waters edge. It was a soul, a ghoul traipsing the water, following her from The Beach. She recoiled a little. Her run in with Nyryn had made her weak, her insides cold like rock ice. She watched him for a while, caught a real scent; warm, living. He was not a dead thing, he was very much alive, even if he didn't look it. Lye leapt down a little ledge, again with another; her actions were careless but so was she. When no one mattered to you and you didn't matter to no one, there was no care, no appreciation of life. She would live forever after all -- a burden, a curse. The black girl wandered down, skidding, slipping and stumbling until finally she reached the ground, her knees buckling she landed on her side. staying completely still for a moment, she wondered if it was the greatest idea, wandering closer to a stallion that was drifting in and out of view. But then he could be her saviour, someone who hated strangers and took one look at her and hated her even more. So she stayed like that for quite some time, watching him, cold, her orange eyes staring. then she rose to her feet and clambered over. Her lips tasting the salt air, her orange eyes picking up everything. There was an underlining scent of him, a smell of something deeper. Blood. Within him. There was a familiarity within him. She was unsure why. But she found that the slightest bit reassuring -- but she often found comfort in dangerous things. Living in a place of the Dead, made the mare quite lax in her method of dealing with the living, and the consequences that sometimes occurred. "You look like I feel." her voice a bittersweet poison on her lips; adequate to her name. Slowly killing her inside, her voice slipped from her throat in a throaty whisper. "Invisible." |