Someone joins her, and the white mare cannot decide who she wishes it was most. There are fantasies of different friends, different loves, joining her. Telling her she’ll figure it out, that someday it will be alright. Even though she can’t imagine how, even though death feels like the only attainable peace - and it isn’t even attainable for her. If she were to walk into the ocean now, would she be able to keep herself beneath the icy waves long enough to be claimed by the sea? Or would she just wash up on shore, her brain healed of the lack of oxygen.
How has she gotten to this point? Driven mad by her own imperfections, eager for love and yet afraid of the frailty of it all at the same time. It was so easy to convince herself that seeking comfort from those she loved was selfish.
Agetta does not respond immediately to the hello - and by the time she remembers it has been said it feels too late. It does belatedly stir her from her thoughts enough to turn and look at the stranger standing in the freezing cold water next to her. He is not familiar, which fills her with relief. From looking at him she does not know how she is connected to his family. Even in the darkness, she remarks the tint of his coat and a small hint of a smile appears just for a moment on her blood-splattered face though her dark eyes remain unfocused. “I had a daughter once who was purple like you.”
A small pause.
“I think she died a long time ago.”
@[sleaze]
me to Agetta:
![[Image: tenor.gif]](https://media1.tenor.com/images/3bbf24e45cef17979d86488b44e14c66/tenor.gif)