11-05-2019, 09:35 PM
Accidentally resurrected.
It would happen to her, if it happened to anyone.
Starbrow's eyes open on a field of flowers, and she smiles, letting her muzzle drift just above them, letting the petals tickle her nose until she sneezes. She looks much the same as she did that long ago day when she birthed her daughter on the murky beach sand, the same as the day she cracked her head open on the grey rock underfoot. Now, she does not remember that she had a child, does not know that that child has one of her own. The black mare knows only the colorful flowers that surround her, their pollen turning her legs yellow and green as she walks among them. Does she remember being dead? Does she even know that she was dead, and now is not? No, like the moths that flit here and there, she thinks nothing of her Life or her Death, the little black mare cannot tell them apart, would not understand if anyone tried to explain it.
Starbrow does not understand how she came here, but thinks it unimportant. Here is a lovely place, and that's reason enough. A moment ago she was somewhere else, somewhere grey as a dove's wing, and it was also lovely, but different. There was a ripple and a rush and there was a pounding in her chest, a pain in her lungs as though she'd been holding her breath for years. Perhaps she had been, she was fond of children's games.
She, too, wears the dreamy smile of someone who does not know what is happening, but unlike Nikkai, her mind is untroubled with trying to discover the why or how of it. She hears footsteps up ahead, dark eyes come to focus on the grey mare, walking cautiously through the late-season blooms, and she calls out to her a bright greeting as she might an old friend.
Have they met before? It seems possible, and unimportant.
From a short distance away, her greeting is answered by an angry shriek, and she turns away from the dappled mare to see the haunted stallion trampling the flowers from what little shade remains in the copse he has hidden away in. Her head tilts to one side, bird-like, and she laughs as he scars the ground underfoot, lifting up her own foreleg in mimicry of his angry striking. What is he doing? It looks like fun.
It would happen to her, if it happened to anyone.
Starbrow's eyes open on a field of flowers, and she smiles, letting her muzzle drift just above them, letting the petals tickle her nose until she sneezes. She looks much the same as she did that long ago day when she birthed her daughter on the murky beach sand, the same as the day she cracked her head open on the grey rock underfoot. Now, she does not remember that she had a child, does not know that that child has one of her own. The black mare knows only the colorful flowers that surround her, their pollen turning her legs yellow and green as she walks among them. Does she remember being dead? Does she even know that she was dead, and now is not? No, like the moths that flit here and there, she thinks nothing of her Life or her Death, the little black mare cannot tell them apart, would not understand if anyone tried to explain it.
Starbrow does not understand how she came here, but thinks it unimportant. Here is a lovely place, and that's reason enough. A moment ago she was somewhere else, somewhere grey as a dove's wing, and it was also lovely, but different. There was a ripple and a rush and there was a pounding in her chest, a pain in her lungs as though she'd been holding her breath for years. Perhaps she had been, she was fond of children's games.
She, too, wears the dreamy smile of someone who does not know what is happening, but unlike Nikkai, her mind is untroubled with trying to discover the why or how of it. She hears footsteps up ahead, dark eyes come to focus on the grey mare, walking cautiously through the late-season blooms, and she calls out to her a bright greeting as she might an old friend.
Have they met before? It seems possible, and unimportant.
From a short distance away, her greeting is answered by an angry shriek, and she turns away from the dappled mare to see the haunted stallion trampling the flowers from what little shade remains in the copse he has hidden away in. Her head tilts to one side, bird-like, and she laughs as he scars the ground underfoot, lifting up her own foreleg in mimicry of his angry striking. What is he doing? It looks like fun.
Starbrow
Stars and shadows ain't good to see by
@[Nikkai] @[Kradle]