gold cage; hostage to my feelings

[Celina]

In the green-yellow light of her fireflies, Celina’s soft eyes glitter. She peers down (though not too far down) at the bright filly who comes closer. The white filly glows like the moon, but with an intensity far closer to sunlight. Celina must blink the long lashes of her twilight-accustomed eyes, but she does not look away. “To Pangea,” she says. My family is there.” It might be a lie, but it doesn’t sound like one. Celina certainly believes it to be true. Her family is there – at least, the part of the family that she wants to see. The rest of them (most of them) she is uninterested in. The scaled filly shivers in another cool gust, but says nothing. She can’t show weakness, she thinks to herself, not even to one so unassuming as the pretty little filly. How does she keep her coat so white, Celina wonders? Her own is dusty, and frequently splattered in mud. The iridescent shine in her markings hasn’t been seen in months, and the navy tresses are instead mud brown and wound thoroughly with brush and twigs. The glowing fireflies are her sole beauty, and the way they illuminate her protruding teeth with intermittent eerie yellow light casts even that into doubt. Not like the little filly. She is beautiful. Celina had heard that horses were being taken in the night. Seeing the little false fireflies around the pristine white filly, the girl finally understands why. Celina would like to have fireflies like this, in every color, and surely taking the girl with her everywhere would be the best way to achieve that. Of course, she’d need to be sure that there are other colors, of course, because she knows all too well how boring a single color can be after a year. “What other colors can you do?” Can you do orange? She almost asks, the question settles at the tip of her tongue, hidden by the dim light of their respective glows. celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type

@[Beyza]