11-24-2020, 02:59 PM
The nightmares come with less triggers. They are always the same – a dead colt, a fleeing filly, and a missing mare. Their names escape me – that must be the way my mind has chosen to protect itself from the irreparable damage I caused myself. I shudder, pulling my useless wings closer to me. If you didn’t look closely, it would appear that I was just exceptionally fat. But if you looked, you would see the vague outline of the wings I have trained to remain at my sides. When I do extend them, which is very, very rarely, you would see they are stunted, miniscule, and absolutely worthless. They were a cause of shame when I was a colt, and so, I trained them to stay at my sides.
Looking at the rest of me, you would see a small stallion, standing a giant 14 hands. My fur is thick and lush, even in the summer. That’s what made me such a good match for her. Her name is on the tip of my tongue, but I dare not think it. My ice queen. How I miss her every day. And our twins. I wanted nothing more than to die with them, for certainly that’s what happened. But instead, I am alive. Grieving every moment of every day.
As I enter this new place, I am assaulted by the scents of innumerable horses. Mares in heat, stallions reeking of piss and testosterone. New plants caress my senses, and I am curious about this place. Will it become home, like the land before? I could only hope so. With a heavy sigh, I continue to look around, wanting nothing more than to see her face once again, knowing that it would never happen. There was no reprieve for a soul like mine. Maybe one day, I will tell the tale of how I came to be the silent. Everyone has a story to tell, right? Does it still count if you won’t speak about it? Curious.
ooc: oh, ffs. forgive me. It's been years since I've done this, and I'm rusty af. :/
Looking at the rest of me, you would see a small stallion, standing a giant 14 hands. My fur is thick and lush, even in the summer. That’s what made me such a good match for her. Her name is on the tip of my tongue, but I dare not think it. My ice queen. How I miss her every day. And our twins. I wanted nothing more than to die with them, for certainly that’s what happened. But instead, I am alive. Grieving every moment of every day.
As I enter this new place, I am assaulted by the scents of innumerable horses. Mares in heat, stallions reeking of piss and testosterone. New plants caress my senses, and I am curious about this place. Will it become home, like the land before? I could only hope so. With a heavy sigh, I continue to look around, wanting nothing more than to see her face once again, knowing that it would never happen. There was no reprieve for a soul like mine. Maybe one day, I will tell the tale of how I came to be the silent. Everyone has a story to tell, right? Does it still count if you won’t speak about it? Curious.
ooc: oh, ffs. forgive me. It's been years since I've done this, and I'm rusty af. :/