i counted the stars tonight, i gathered them all
She looks to the slim figure in the water… but that is not what she sees. She sees every blemish, each chestnut, she takes note of the protruding horn glowing to its ivory point. She sees the arch of her legs, how her knees are to close together, how her hooves are to round, she sees the dip in her back as to deep, she looks are her hips, how she loathes her hips. Her only solace is the perfection of her face and neck. No one could fault her for that. Though others would probably not notice these little imperfections, she did. Never had she spent this much time thinking on her image, and while she cannot change, nor does she spend time yearning, and dreaming for something other then what she has, she will take a critical eye to what she does have. There is no point in wasting time on something that will never change, but currently her body is changing, her legs no longer too long, her mane shines with the silk of freshly achieved adulthood, her body sleek with the loss of baby fuzz. She wonders if the rest of these things that she hates so much will change as well. Still she manages to be comfortable in her skin. Usually this is the result of unnerving those around her or taking a critical eye to them, hoping that maybe they have one more imperfection than she does.
She was starting to feel as any adult mare would before their virginity is taken. A little antsy, and curious about the world outside of what they know. She is content to observe it roll on by, watching what others deem worthy to engage in. But she doesn’t engage, she stands off to the side peaking around bushes and trees always waiting for the night when others would take their leave and she could come out and play. Dusk has settled on the land the horses dwindling by the second. A howl alerts her to the thrill of possibilities, possibilities that are endless on nights such as these. She steps from the trees, swimming through the grasses. She holds her head higher than normal, alert to every little sound, her own hooves muffled by the mossy ground, and dried grasses above it. Moving, she is always moving, it’s the only way to pass the days in these places. When was the last time she slept? She doesn’t remember to be honest, she might not be an insomniac, or an anorexic, but she is close to it. Why this was she couldn’t quite understand, it wasn’t like she was abused, not like she had seen horrors that no one should ever know about. It’s not as if her life had been a tragedy just waiting to be written in a book.
This was about control, she must control, she must not lose control. Thus every aspect in her life was under control. To lose control is to be cursed. To lose control is to encourage the voices in her mind, to lose control…. Is to lose life. But never does her mind focus on these deeper thoughts, no her subconscious took care of all her worries, all her reasoning, all her emotions. Outwardly, there was nothing, nothing to focus on, nothing to cause those carefully guarded secrets to rise up, to take her mind and punish her for keeping them caged. Her life, her mind, her voices, they were all under control, even if she didn’t allow herself to know it. Such deep understanding, such open ended thoughts never deserved to see the light of day. Her thoughts, at least the ones that if you were a mind reader could hear were ones about the green grass, images of her mother, scenes of her sister. Moments of stillness, songs of birds, and the roar of a cougar. Her ears flick back and she watches as this one sound becomes a reality, through the grasses it comes, the fog low across the ground hiding the growling creature and her knees. Her head peers quirked towards the animal. Why do others fear this creature? The roan body does not quiver; she quietly watches it as it approaches before it leaps in her face. Now the fears take over, long protruding claws flash wickedly as they rise from the thick fog. Fangs reveal their need for warm flesh. Now she quivers squinting her eyes shut afraid of the pain she would feel.
Oricles head snaps up her pale eyes wide with the jolt, a tangled mess, she takes a look around. Her breathing coming fast and heavy. Ears perk around listening for what had woken her from the nightmare. Who is there? She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does. Standing to her feet, the little nest looked like she had given it a good thrashing. Well it used to be little, as she grew so did it. Her mane whips at the neck a result of her shaking it out. Gaining her composure, she stands there silent waiting for what was to come.
.
She was starting to feel as any adult mare would before their virginity is taken. A little antsy, and curious about the world outside of what they know. She is content to observe it roll on by, watching what others deem worthy to engage in. But she doesn’t engage, she stands off to the side peaking around bushes and trees always waiting for the night when others would take their leave and she could come out and play. Dusk has settled on the land the horses dwindling by the second. A howl alerts her to the thrill of possibilities, possibilities that are endless on nights such as these. She steps from the trees, swimming through the grasses. She holds her head higher than normal, alert to every little sound, her own hooves muffled by the mossy ground, and dried grasses above it. Moving, she is always moving, it’s the only way to pass the days in these places. When was the last time she slept? She doesn’t remember to be honest, she might not be an insomniac, or an anorexic, but she is close to it. Why this was she couldn’t quite understand, it wasn’t like she was abused, not like she had seen horrors that no one should ever know about. It’s not as if her life had been a tragedy just waiting to be written in a book.
This was about control, she must control, she must not lose control. Thus every aspect in her life was under control. To lose control is to be cursed. To lose control is to encourage the voices in her mind, to lose control…. Is to lose life. But never does her mind focus on these deeper thoughts, no her subconscious took care of all her worries, all her reasoning, all her emotions. Outwardly, there was nothing, nothing to focus on, nothing to cause those carefully guarded secrets to rise up, to take her mind and punish her for keeping them caged. Her life, her mind, her voices, they were all under control, even if she didn’t allow herself to know it. Such deep understanding, such open ended thoughts never deserved to see the light of day. Her thoughts, at least the ones that if you were a mind reader could hear were ones about the green grass, images of her mother, scenes of her sister. Moments of stillness, songs of birds, and the roar of a cougar. Her ears flick back and she watches as this one sound becomes a reality, through the grasses it comes, the fog low across the ground hiding the growling creature and her knees. Her head peers quirked towards the animal. Why do others fear this creature? The roan body does not quiver; she quietly watches it as it approaches before it leaps in her face. Now the fears take over, long protruding claws flash wickedly as they rise from the thick fog. Fangs reveal their need for warm flesh. Now she quivers squinting her eyes shut afraid of the pain she would feel.
Oricles head snaps up her pale eyes wide with the jolt, a tangled mess, she takes a look around. Her breathing coming fast and heavy. Ears perk around listening for what had woken her from the nightmare. Who is there? She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does. Standing to her feet, the little nest looked like she had given it a good thrashing. Well it used to be little, as she grew so did it. Her mane whips at the neck a result of her shaking it out. Gaining her composure, she stands there silent waiting for what was to come.
.
Oricle
so will you hold cause time is cold
but in your soul im standing by
but in your soul im standing by
@[SamShine]