There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
She isn’t beautiful. Not really. Not anymore. Perhaps once she had been. A lovely thing of red and white, with refined features and soft golden eyes. And certainly, she is still the same red and white tone, still has the same refined features, the same golden eyes. But that once smooth, unbroken skin is now riddled with cracks and fissures, those delicate features now covered with scars and upraised skin, and those gold eyes now hard and metallic. There is nothing of the girl that once had been. Nothing left but light and a shattered body.
But perhaps that is what she finds most beautiful of all. The silver mare who loves nothing more than to be broken, finding beauty in a broken thing.
She’s right. It shouldn’t have mattered. None of this should have mattered. She should look at her only in passing, a smile or nod her only acknowledgement before she moves on. Her body should not thrill in that slight caress, the simple touch of lips on fractured skin. She should not shiver in delight, in anticipation.
She should not want.
That, perhaps, is the worst of all. The wanting. Wanting more. More of those simple touches, the breathy words, the quiet, unspoken longings.
And that, perhaps, is why she would deny it all. With her very last breath, if need be.
She should not want.
”He hasn’t come back for you yet.”
She doesn’t know why this is so important. She only knows that it is.
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria