12-18-2019, 04:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-18-2019, 09:56 PM by Neverwhere.)
She has avoided the field. She is not a recruiter, saying pretty, convincing, words to snap up those seeking homes. She has not, in truth, cared to offer a home to anybody, although it has happened once before. That one had been an accident, a fluke, and somehow, an unfortunately prophetic one.
Neverwhere appreciates the fortune telling a little less than others might.
Maybe more than a little.
She is running. She hasn't run in years, not really, and not outside Nerine. There's an exhilaration in this galloping but it is a freedom unceremoniously quashed by other responsibilities and the twist in her gut when she forgets to forget just why it is she can see again. It is not because her eyes have healed, they remain milky white over blue like clouds over the thin winter sky, yet her vision is better than it has been since foalhood.
When she slows, she has reached the field of the homeless and her eye gravitates to him immediately. It must, of course, he is so conspicuous, so ridiculous. She could have seen him even if she were still as blind as she appears. Her ears turn back and she looks over her shoulder to where the meadow calls her, but she recognizes the angry way he grazes, his whole body a snarl, and she changes her mind. The dappled mare approaches him, only announcing herself with a rough snort as she settles nearby to graze as well.
She does not recognize herself in the moment, and it makes her sneer into the grass, but she says no words. Not yet.
Neverwhere appreciates the fortune telling a little less than others might.
Maybe more than a little.
She is running. She hasn't run in years, not really, and not outside Nerine. There's an exhilaration in this galloping but it is a freedom unceremoniously quashed by other responsibilities and the twist in her gut when she forgets to forget just why it is she can see again. It is not because her eyes have healed, they remain milky white over blue like clouds over the thin winter sky, yet her vision is better than it has been since foalhood.
When she slows, she has reached the field of the homeless and her eye gravitates to him immediately. It must, of course, he is so conspicuous, so ridiculous. She could have seen him even if she were still as blind as she appears. Her ears turn back and she looks over her shoulder to where the meadow calls her, but she recognizes the angry way he grazes, his whole body a snarl, and she changes her mind. The dappled mare approaches him, only announcing herself with a rough snort as she settles nearby to graze as well.
She does not recognize herself in the moment, and it makes her sneer into the grass, but she says no words. Not yet.
Neverwhere
...
Ooc: hello, have a work post lol
