The realization sets in slowly, trickling down like fortified rain that this very meadow, virtually untouched by the law of change was her first encounter with Beqanna, and now that seemingly a reset button has been pressed, here she finds herself spat out right back where she started. It's ironic really, a sense of rebirth kindling and plucking at heart strings she wants to shudder at. So very lost she was when she'd arrived, so misplaced from reality that now that she's returned, the efforts she's made, can only hope that somehow she's on her own journey to healing.
She'd like to think of herself as the land, constantly changing under pressure, growing, evolving with the mistakes that have been engraved. But are they really mistakes? Or just some sick way of experiencing this life, trudging through the mud to truly appreciate the solid ground waiting on the other side. No matter how she chooses to look at her circumstances, she can't help but feel solemn, small, in the grand scheme of things. A phantom in the night, an infernal reminder tucked away, it's always there to keep her from moving forwards.
Winning every battle, achieving above and beyond of what her twin trained her to be only for it all to be erased, lost in time and consumed. Though what goes up, must come down, and Famkee came down from the tallest peak. The dark parts of her exhaust these memories, blaming herself for what happened and what she could have done differently. Before her travel to Beqanna, her past was immovable, cemented. Magic is a fickle thing, proving her wrong in most aspects, that the past can be transformed. If she can't change her own demons she's plagued with day by day, what she is responsible for is her future. It's an ugly thought, one so unfamiliar.
One thing Famkee can say she's lost touch with, rightfully so with the stallion standing so eloquently in front of her, is the sense of loneliness. His company provides a spur in the side of her ego nonetheless, meeting many along the way has elicited some sort of craving for solitary practices, to fall into her old ways. But she wasn't weak, and if sharing about each other experiences near the enchanted mountain helped revive the glint of loyalty she held for herself, the liver colored stud just might be her savior.
She is a bit brazen with her eyes, everything new he had to offer she drinks and swallows. The new sprouts of feathers compliment his coloring well dipping into the chocolate of his flesh and framing his body. She often wonders what it was like to soar the skies and feel the wind, the weightlessness to drift away from all hardships. With how new they are, had he had the chance to use them? Like a fledgling thrown from it's nest, pushed out by it's parents. Like her, he now has the pleasure of a horn, though she doubts he knows how to use it, too. He seems to question wether or not the warrior was one he had seen before, and the relief she feels that the magic of the mountain hadn't taken away his memory of her soothes her embarrassment. She doesn't expect the sarcasm to be returned, judging by the seriousness of previous events, regardless, she nods with a dainty grin still softened around the edges. "The physical changes are nothing, though, compared to the mental ones. I'm not sure I care for them." he reveals and for a moment she takes the time to think, to agree.
It would be an understatement to try and convey the mental changes that have underwent throughout the fractures that have been cracked open, to leak not gradually but burst with too much information at once. "was any of it worth it?" He continues to make her think, which Famkee isn't sure she appreciates. The mare tries not to let the long tendrils of her tail to slap against her flank, onyx tipped ears flattening to hide bitterly inside her mane. Staying inside her head for too long was a dangerous place, but how else was she supposed to harness this gift she's not even sure what or where to begin understanding. She realizes a bit too late that she needs to respond to him, seemingly adrift and set to sail the silence. Famkee was not a woman of many words, she allows her actions to do the talking. She continues anyway, though unsure is her voice, long lashes hiding the golden jewels of her eyes as she looks to the grass below. "I want to say no, selfishly." She was selfish. Trying to find out way out of her own head and her own past by maybe saving another. "A part of me wants to feel like I've done a good thing," She pauses, a deep breath lifting the muscles of her chest to expand. "But the other part wants to know why I can't fix my own past, what I've done, or what i didn't do." Lowering her head slightly she still can't look at him.
It is shame?
She isn't here to spill all of her problems onto a stranger nor does she intend to. She doesn't even know his name. "I feel something is off, different about me but i can't place it yet." She peers her neck to look her barrel, and the other side to signify that she feels nothing physically different or visually to another strangers gaze. She's always thought of herself as a simple, plain woman incomparable to many she's seen taming assorted magic or outward attributes. She was only a soldier, nothing more. She continues, but bares the courage to look at him directly now, a glint of newfound reassurance tugging at the soft glow of her eyes. "And you? What troubles do you carry?" She doesn't know if she really cares, more of a germinating curiosity. She sees the internal struggle he battles, its evident in his body language, the furrow in his brow. Her thick build shifts to cock her hip, subconsciously telling him to relax and let his thoughts run free.
She'd like to think of herself as the land, constantly changing under pressure, growing, evolving with the mistakes that have been engraved. But are they really mistakes? Or just some sick way of experiencing this life, trudging through the mud to truly appreciate the solid ground waiting on the other side. No matter how she chooses to look at her circumstances, she can't help but feel solemn, small, in the grand scheme of things. A phantom in the night, an infernal reminder tucked away, it's always there to keep her from moving forwards.
Winning every battle, achieving above and beyond of what her twin trained her to be only for it all to be erased, lost in time and consumed. Though what goes up, must come down, and Famkee came down from the tallest peak. The dark parts of her exhaust these memories, blaming herself for what happened and what she could have done differently. Before her travel to Beqanna, her past was immovable, cemented. Magic is a fickle thing, proving her wrong in most aspects, that the past can be transformed. If she can't change her own demons she's plagued with day by day, what she is responsible for is her future. It's an ugly thought, one so unfamiliar.
One thing Famkee can say she's lost touch with, rightfully so with the stallion standing so eloquently in front of her, is the sense of loneliness. His company provides a spur in the side of her ego nonetheless, meeting many along the way has elicited some sort of craving for solitary practices, to fall into her old ways. But she wasn't weak, and if sharing about each other experiences near the enchanted mountain helped revive the glint of loyalty she held for herself, the liver colored stud just might be her savior.
She is a bit brazen with her eyes, everything new he had to offer she drinks and swallows. The new sprouts of feathers compliment his coloring well dipping into the chocolate of his flesh and framing his body. She often wonders what it was like to soar the skies and feel the wind, the weightlessness to drift away from all hardships. With how new they are, had he had the chance to use them? Like a fledgling thrown from it's nest, pushed out by it's parents. Like her, he now has the pleasure of a horn, though she doubts he knows how to use it, too. He seems to question wether or not the warrior was one he had seen before, and the relief she feels that the magic of the mountain hadn't taken away his memory of her soothes her embarrassment. She doesn't expect the sarcasm to be returned, judging by the seriousness of previous events, regardless, she nods with a dainty grin still softened around the edges. "The physical changes are nothing, though, compared to the mental ones. I'm not sure I care for them." he reveals and for a moment she takes the time to think, to agree.
It would be an understatement to try and convey the mental changes that have underwent throughout the fractures that have been cracked open, to leak not gradually but burst with too much information at once. "was any of it worth it?" He continues to make her think, which Famkee isn't sure she appreciates. The mare tries not to let the long tendrils of her tail to slap against her flank, onyx tipped ears flattening to hide bitterly inside her mane. Staying inside her head for too long was a dangerous place, but how else was she supposed to harness this gift she's not even sure what or where to begin understanding. She realizes a bit too late that she needs to respond to him, seemingly adrift and set to sail the silence. Famkee was not a woman of many words, she allows her actions to do the talking. She continues anyway, though unsure is her voice, long lashes hiding the golden jewels of her eyes as she looks to the grass below. "I want to say no, selfishly." She was selfish. Trying to find out way out of her own head and her own past by maybe saving another. "A part of me wants to feel like I've done a good thing," She pauses, a deep breath lifting the muscles of her chest to expand. "But the other part wants to know why I can't fix my own past, what I've done, or what i didn't do." Lowering her head slightly she still can't look at him.
It is shame?
She isn't here to spill all of her problems onto a stranger nor does she intend to. She doesn't even know his name. "I feel something is off, different about me but i can't place it yet." She peers her neck to look her barrel, and the other side to signify that she feels nothing physically different or visually to another strangers gaze. She's always thought of herself as a simple, plain woman incomparable to many she's seen taming assorted magic or outward attributes. She was only a soldier, nothing more. She continues, but bares the courage to look at him directly now, a glint of newfound reassurance tugging at the soft glow of her eyes. "And you? What troubles do you carry?" She doesn't know if she really cares, more of a germinating curiosity. She sees the internal struggle he battles, its evident in his body language, the furrow in his brow. Her thick build shifts to cock her hip, subconsciously telling him to relax and let his thoughts run free.
if my heart is in your hands will i die
Famkee
@assailant This is a bit rambled and sloppy im sorry
![[Image: EOU990v.png]](https://i.imgur.com/EOU990v.png)
Famkee [Fahm-key]