[mature] I tried to sell my soul last night; Ryatah

[Ryatah]

“What have I become, my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away in the end."

She has always been somewhat of a foolish woman, and her age didn’t seem to have helped her in that regard. Somehow she was always toying with the wrong type — flirting with disaster. Rarely had it been intentional, however. She didn’t seek them out. Like a moth to the flame they were always attracted to her porcelain-smooth skin, her soulful brown eyes, and her innocent smile. They wanted to control her, and she had done little to stop them. Ever the obedient puppet, she did not resist the tugging strings. But she had lost most of that charm now. She was still lovely, even if she was marred by scars, even if some of her curves didn’t have as much flesh as they used to. But she was smarter, and not so easily swayed. That, and not many sought out the ghostly, eyeless mare that haunted the meadows and the forests.

He is sparking something inside of her, a flame that she had thought to be long-dead. He talks to her like she is still something, still someone, and it stokes the ember that had lay dormant in her soul. Beneath the layers of scars and heartache she still longs to be the same; she wants to be his pretty porcelain doll, she wants to be kept close and admired.

His lips brush her cheek, and her skin tingles beneath the warmth of his touch.  She can hear the come-hither croon of his voice, and she hesitates. Her minds eye only sees an emerald green stallion, and in her heart of hearts she knows she would never betray him again. Not like that. But even still, she closes the distance between her and the silver stallion, her lithe figure delicate and small against his own as she melts against him. Her soft lips find the nape of his neck, a simper lifting her lips as a short but lyrical laugh is lost in the tendrils of his mane. ”Either your shield has failed you, or this was a trick.” But she doesn’t pull away, not quite yet, and instead she lets herself be enveloped by the warmth of his skin, and the  familiarity of being close to someone she’s known for so long. There is a quietness that settles over her, the sounds of the meadow floating around them, and for a moment — just a moment — she is a pretty young thing being swept away in the moment of a charming stallion. The illusion soon fades, as her lips follow the slope of his shoulder, her voice but a murmur as she says, “At least, despite all that has changed, you’ve stayed the same.” Brash, rude, and irresistible. Just like she always remembered him.

RYATAH

you could have it all, my empire of dirt

@[Ashhal]