03-24-2023, 01:48 PM
Indifference.
A callousness she's kept a close friend, always by her side to remind her that nothing is worth feeling, nothing is worth the pain of her present or even more tedious, her past. She wants to believe she's special, strong even, for no one could possibly know what she's done or what she's had to face, had to accept. The realization that many are slaves to their own former wounds, pouring salt into an open festering gash that opens just a little bit more once revisited. This recognition should be liberating, in fact she wants to dive into the idea of forgiveness, and drown out the resentment and hatred but why must it always be so... impossible?
Her attempts at not only saving a new land, but saving herself might not have been as futile as the unicorn might've expected. She feels, different, hints of teasing bliss rummage through her consciousness as she passes through the portal meant to send her back to a land born anew from the ashes of senseless contempt karmically plaguing Beqanna for far too long. Flashes of freshly sprouted territories that aren't new, but rather old paint her vision, from forests to endless fields, deserts and mountains that kiss the sky. Perhaps her sprite shows her this to instill the healing that slowly transpires, a gift that even Famkee can see the horizon of.
She literally falls from grace as her portal splits to open from her own private rapture and ejecting her not as gracefully as she'd hoped onto a blanket of tall grass. She nearly falls flat on her side, but thankfully her weary legs have just enough strength to support the journey she's been bestowed. Physically Famkee feels the same, despite the uneasy wobble her body struggles to balance, but a shadow of a doubt peers its unexpected face inside her mind. Something so foreign, so abstract that maybe she isn't supposed to harness this unknown sensitivity making it's own space and settling to permanently stay there. It's a bit frightening, not knowing what she's come back from the mountain with that she had not possessed before, but it's like her sprite tells her to wait, that time will tell her what gift she's been given. It's strange, this little voice in her head not telling her to avoid her thoughts and shut them out, but to embrace them, utilize them in dare she say, a positive way?
The meadow she's been dumped into is rather beautiful as spring spreads it's colors onto the field. She gradually comes back to her senses, the tall blades of grass that tickle the skin of her flank, the sounds of running water splitting the acreage ahead, or the gentle breeze that fills her lungs in a deep breath that she wasn't aware that she was harboring. Had things really been set right with this world? Had her simple influence made a difference, had any of the others who had joined made their marks on history? It's a thought made for future probing, as Famkee begins to realize she isn't as alone as she thought.
This is when she sees him, the stallion seemingly thrown from the sky just like her, only she thinks he looks familiar but is he really? Owlishly she blinks her golden eyes to try and wipe him away from her vision, but he remains there. She does know him, briefly acknowledging his presence inside Bequanna's brutal past events, but he looks, well, different. She doesn't recall the dark stud having wings, nor a horn adorned on his forehead, though perhaps magic works in mysterious ways for each individual placing themselves inside the portal. She still feels dizzy, and she wonders if he's even there at all, a mirage to taunt her so. She hears his footfalls, smells his scent, woody and tangible like the pines that scarcely decorate the meadow. She nearly blends with the dried and fresh foliage, her golden coat camouflaging, her lethal horn jutting out and could potentially give her away. So what if he sees her, though she wants to remain a ghost, she isn't sure she could avoid this interaction that buds with each precious second that ticks by. She doesn't deny the questions she has for him, the curiosity that fuels the steps she takes towards him. "You look different." Her voice is soft, but the sarcasm bleeds through the small grin curling her velvet lips. She wonders if he even remembers her face so brief in their meeting, but she takes the chance that maybe he hasn't forgotten.
A callousness she's kept a close friend, always by her side to remind her that nothing is worth feeling, nothing is worth the pain of her present or even more tedious, her past. She wants to believe she's special, strong even, for no one could possibly know what she's done or what she's had to face, had to accept. The realization that many are slaves to their own former wounds, pouring salt into an open festering gash that opens just a little bit more once revisited. This recognition should be liberating, in fact she wants to dive into the idea of forgiveness, and drown out the resentment and hatred but why must it always be so... impossible?
Her attempts at not only saving a new land, but saving herself might not have been as futile as the unicorn might've expected. She feels, different, hints of teasing bliss rummage through her consciousness as she passes through the portal meant to send her back to a land born anew from the ashes of senseless contempt karmically plaguing Beqanna for far too long. Flashes of freshly sprouted territories that aren't new, but rather old paint her vision, from forests to endless fields, deserts and mountains that kiss the sky. Perhaps her sprite shows her this to instill the healing that slowly transpires, a gift that even Famkee can see the horizon of.
She literally falls from grace as her portal splits to open from her own private rapture and ejecting her not as gracefully as she'd hoped onto a blanket of tall grass. She nearly falls flat on her side, but thankfully her weary legs have just enough strength to support the journey she's been bestowed. Physically Famkee feels the same, despite the uneasy wobble her body struggles to balance, but a shadow of a doubt peers its unexpected face inside her mind. Something so foreign, so abstract that maybe she isn't supposed to harness this unknown sensitivity making it's own space and settling to permanently stay there. It's a bit frightening, not knowing what she's come back from the mountain with that she had not possessed before, but it's like her sprite tells her to wait, that time will tell her what gift she's been given. It's strange, this little voice in her head not telling her to avoid her thoughts and shut them out, but to embrace them, utilize them in dare she say, a positive way?
The meadow she's been dumped into is rather beautiful as spring spreads it's colors onto the field. She gradually comes back to her senses, the tall blades of grass that tickle the skin of her flank, the sounds of running water splitting the acreage ahead, or the gentle breeze that fills her lungs in a deep breath that she wasn't aware that she was harboring. Had things really been set right with this world? Had her simple influence made a difference, had any of the others who had joined made their marks on history? It's a thought made for future probing, as Famkee begins to realize she isn't as alone as she thought.
This is when she sees him, the stallion seemingly thrown from the sky just like her, only she thinks he looks familiar but is he really? Owlishly she blinks her golden eyes to try and wipe him away from her vision, but he remains there. She does know him, briefly acknowledging his presence inside Bequanna's brutal past events, but he looks, well, different. She doesn't recall the dark stud having wings, nor a horn adorned on his forehead, though perhaps magic works in mysterious ways for each individual placing themselves inside the portal. She still feels dizzy, and she wonders if he's even there at all, a mirage to taunt her so. She hears his footfalls, smells his scent, woody and tangible like the pines that scarcely decorate the meadow. She nearly blends with the dried and fresh foliage, her golden coat camouflaging, her lethal horn jutting out and could potentially give her away. So what if he sees her, though she wants to remain a ghost, she isn't sure she could avoid this interaction that buds with each precious second that ticks by. She doesn't deny the questions she has for him, the curiosity that fuels the steps she takes towards him. "You look different." Her voice is soft, but the sarcasm bleeds through the small grin curling her velvet lips. She wonders if he even remembers her face so brief in their meeting, but she takes the chance that maybe he hasn't forgotten.
if my heart is in your hands will i die
Famkee
@assailant
![[Image: EOU990v.png]](https://i.imgur.com/EOU990v.png)
Famkee [Fahm-key]