07-24-2017, 03:56 PM
It’s not long before she is approached (it’s never long, she draws the monsters to herself as a flame does a moth - like a flame she flickers, and she may quickly burn out) and she can taste him before she sees him. He slinks towards her as the shadows begin to lengthen, stretching out to wrap around her legs when they are visible, filling in the spaces when they are not. She turns to the stallion, and as he moves closer the sky rumbles, the rolling thunder echoed in the rolling tenseness down her spine.
Pathetic fallacy is so much more vicious when the victim is also pathetic.
His voice grates across her skin, and she visibly shrinks back as he speaks. She is not nervous, though she understands how it could seem that way; she has played this game before, she has been played before. She was raised by darkness and it runs through her and she is scared and she is wary and she is oh, so tired of all this, but she is not nervous. She does not know what is to come (but maybe, just maybe, she has an idea, from the glint in his eye) but she knows that she is to be the pawn.
She watches the stallion, waiting for the lightning to flash, allowing herself that last moment of certainty before she opens her lips; “Not everything is as it seems,” she tells him, wondering if she seems mysterious, though she does not mean to be. She does not mean anything, anymore; merely to be.
But it appears that she will never be allowed to just be, the monsters and the demons and the darkness always want her, pulling her in, even as she disappears from view time and time again.
One more flash of lightning and she is back, fully, her sabino coat stark again the darkening forest behind her. She is not much to look at, her colouring aside, but there is a look in her eyes that is so much more than resignation and defeat, though those are at the forefront, now this beast is before her.
There is a spark of hope.
Hope that this will be over quickly.
Pathetic fallacy is so much more vicious when the victim is also pathetic.
His voice grates across her skin, and she visibly shrinks back as he speaks. She is not nervous, though she understands how it could seem that way; she has played this game before, she has been played before. She was raised by darkness and it runs through her and she is scared and she is wary and she is oh, so tired of all this, but she is not nervous. She does not know what is to come (but maybe, just maybe, she has an idea, from the glint in his eye) but she knows that she is to be the pawn.
She watches the stallion, waiting for the lightning to flash, allowing herself that last moment of certainty before she opens her lips; “Not everything is as it seems,” she tells him, wondering if she seems mysterious, though she does not mean to be. She does not mean anything, anymore; merely to be.
But it appears that she will never be allowed to just be, the monsters and the demons and the darkness always want her, pulling her in, even as she disappears from view time and time again.
One more flash of lightning and she is back, fully, her sabino coat stark again the darkening forest behind her. She is not much to look at, her colouring aside, but there is a look in her eyes that is so much more than resignation and defeat, though those are at the forefront, now this beast is before her.
There is a spark of hope.
Hope that this will be over quickly.
![[Image: n2oih3.png]](http://i64.tinypic.com/n2oih3.png)