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+---- Thread: shatter every window 'til its all blown away; call pony (/showthread.php?tid=32224)
shatter every window 'til its all blown away; call pony - Wayfair - 10-20-2026
batten down, baby, its a hell of a storm
The years have healed her, physically. The wounds have been mended to puckered black scars against her porcelain hide. Aside from the flowery pink "C" branded on her jaw, she is as whole as she ever was. What the years cannot do is heal her mind, and certainly not her heart.
Time has no dominion over the heart or the brain. If anything, time has abandoned them completely, leaving them entirely alone and without aid. When shes alone, especially at night, her mind starts to wander back to the top of that mountain. Her dreams are plagued with sinister red eyes, soft doe-like blue eyes, and razor sharp claws ripping through them both.
The meadow is active tonight. Here and there she catches the occasional glimpse of horses, and hears their giggles as they are caught in the throws of breeding season. Other than the one time with the kind, snake-like stranger, she took no part. Who would want her for a mother, being the broken thing that she is? That child was long gone and good riddance to her; Wayfair found her unsettling, her fragile mine unable to wrap around the strange girl. Thankfully, she no longer had to hear what they were thinking, only what they were saying, and that was easy enough to block out. Her reptilian eyes begin to glow as the wind blows to her, making the dying leaves on the trees rustle loudly in protest.
Not quiet, but certainly peaceful.
Wayfair
RE: shatter every window 'til its all blown away; call pony - Potion|Ecco - 10-20-2026
Potion
i wanna be a silk flower, like i'm never going to die
The years were a murmur, casting their shadows along them all in woven threads of wrinkled eyes and graying bodies. And yet, she did not remark on their power, sieving that hard earned process away with a simple touch. Looking upon frailty with a chewing of her cheek and narrowing of her purpled eyes, sending it away from her, turning the dial—sometimes forward, sometimes back.
It is not often that she finds herself alone, and if she would take the time to be honest with herself, with anything, she would acknowledge the fact that she cannot place a meter on the event itself. Kirin was always near, Ecco was never far, and Pharma remained closest still. A trifecta of generations at her tail, a shadow in all manner of the word, they were as much a part of her, as she was of them.
They were fixtures of her existence, and she of theirs.
Solitude never bothered her, what little she came by, nor did the presence of many which was more common still. Tonight was a rare moment in her eyes, the meadow was in a place of in-between. A mixture of many and none at all, the throes of lust hung heavy against her skin and yet she did not seek it out.
Nor did she turn away from it, watching with an unfaltering gaze.
“Did you come to seek a partner?”
Her form follows the wind, her scent would announce her coming, if not the crunch of leaves beneath her hooves as she approached the other mare. A voice that was airy, clear but unusual all the same. It was as though she spoke with a certainty that was tethered to somewhere far away, unable to fully touch it, and it her.
