"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
09-15-2022, 05:21 PM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2022, 02:39 PM by Hackjob.)
cause i’m so dope and you’re a fiend
The Ruins seemed like such an appropriate place to begin a new life. No real closure, overall emptiness, and a sneaking suspicion that no one would really care to bother him. Hackjob gazed around rather unbothered, unhurried, and rather unimpressed in general. It never really mattered what brought you to a knew place, did it? Some people fled from their homes for freedom. For the taste of a life they knew full and well they were never going to attain chained to the place where their deepest ties and secrets were held. Some people left because they were restless. Some left to chase their dreams, to attain everything in life they knew they were destined to achieve. The worst of it all was, some left for love. Those ignorant, blinded fools would actually chase love anywhere it went. Hackjob, of course, would never be that foolish. Or so he told himself. The truth was she was always grasping tightly to the back of his mind. Many times he found himself forgetting to breathe, or walking for miles and miles at a time without noticing his surroundings.
You see, he'd been dissociating from place to place since her. And although most found him to be horribly boring, annoying and dull even, he simply could not find it in himself to care anymore. In fact, he'd all but forgotten what emotions felt like in general. His dappled green skin shuddered, and as he finally started actually surveying his surroundings, he was made suddenly aware that it was indeed, winter. He paused briefly, eyes rolling upwards as he tried to recall how long exactly he'd been walking. How far back he'd left her. But the months meant nothing and knees were beginning to buckle.
With a more than dramatic sign he sank to his knees, rolling his body onto it's side and settling rather uncomfortably into the hard terrain. He perched his head up on a nearby bolder, allowing the heavy chill of the wind to sweep through his mane slap it violently on his neck. Sunken gray and bloodshot eyes darted back and forth as he tried gathering his surroundings. Wherever the hell he was, his past did not seem to be present. After what felt like hours of shallow breaths and jerky head motions, his limbs finally succumbed to exhaustion, and Hackjob decided this would be a fine place to sleep.
The morning breeze is cool, not frigid but enough to dishevel the skin along her back. The dew along the dried grass doesn't help, dipping into the black of her limbs with each step making them appear even more raven than before. Famkee doesn't know how she managed to get here, after all if this recently 'remodeled' version of Beqanna was going to be her home, she'd have to explore the depths of it and all it had to offer. Well, what was left of it anyways. If Famkee was one thing, she was thorough. She wonders if to a fault. Leaving one home to start anew feels surreal to her, what was forgotten along the road seeps up to the surface again and again reminding her what she left and what still remains within. Her hatred for the past haunts her present, a bad taste on the tongue, bitter and unforgiving. Much like this place she's stumbled upon, in fact Famkee ponders if this wreckage is fresh considering the recent rise and fall of territories. Despite the barren appearance of the field, she doubts the ruins were a child of current disasters. The jagged rocks looked like old bones jutting from the earth, the only decor the vast plains held. Her brother wouldn't have been here, however the urge to try outweighs the probability of his absence. Years. Years she's searched, whether he's dead or not Famkee's numb to the thought. It doesn't stop her though, going through the motions feels like breathing to her at this point, dead end after another makes her indifferent, callous, raw even.
Golden eyes find that the ruins weren't as unoccupied as she once thought, they're faint but look relatively new, hoof shaped impressions flattening the arid grass leading up the expanse of the rocky structures. She's more aware now, less occupied with her scars and more with her surroundings whom she shares with. She wouldn't have noticed him amongst the boulders if it weren't for his breathing, bedded down rather unusually and uncomfortably Famkee thinks, shaded by the sun from the towering stones. Her ears flatten on instinct, watching from a safe distance. The stomp of her hoof against parched earth is louder than she would've hoped, involuntary as the thud makes her want to tense, she has no intention of waking him, nor an interaction. He nearly blends with the shade, dappled greens shadow him, similar to the mare who's golden dappled pelt harmonizes with the meadow, glowing beneath the rising sun. Her battle ridden horn kisses the sky, lengthy bone shining lethal, quite a contradiction to her pretty face. Well, pretty when she wants to be, now her features twist with suspicion, a coldness leaving her gaze littered with indifference. Though in the back of her mind she does wonder how he came to be in such a state, plopped against the stone. Could he have seen her brother? Could this stranger be another son of the pain he left behind, stopping along the way to take a breather, a way to preserve sanity. She wants to make herself loud enough to not surprise him, so she purposely makes her footsteps louder as she approaches, though she acts as though he isn't there as she passes, long ebony mane and tail hopefully catering her scent his way, maybe then he'd awake and she wouldn't be a ghost of the ruins.
if my heart is in your hands will i die
Famkee
@Hackjob hope you don't mind me popping in, Famkee needs some more angst and interactions >: )
The unmistakable sound of hooves padding along resulted a rather slow rise of his head. Hackjob blinked a few times, allowing the blurry world to snap back into focus. He was unsure how long he had been asleep. Perhaps moments, perhaps hours. Sleep came so rarely for him. Most nights he stood around, his eyes feeling heavy and his body in agony. Without fail, the moment his aching bones were ready for sleep, his mind came to life. Images of his past life. Her. His home, his family. Always all at once. A never ending sequence of every mistake he had ever made. So sleep was rarely more than anxious resting, if it could've been considered that at all. One thing was for certain- it was much needed. He craned his neck from side to side, and that was when he saw the passing sound that ruined his slumber.
Mares. Typical. Always there to ruin his peace and quiet. He allowed himself a moment to take in the creature before him. One thing was for sure, she was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Dappled, much like himself, only a much less repulsive color. But his eyes remained traced on the protrusion from her head. Peculiar, the little voice in his head mused. Her body language seemed anything but invitational, however, he had yet to meet anyone else in this unfamiliar place and that alone spiked the repressed curiosity that was beginning to claw it's way out.
Following a subtle cough to announce he had awoken, the stallion stretched his legs and rather clumsily rose to his feet. Sometimes he felt as if he'd never outgrown his wobbly foal legs, constantly tripping and drunkenly stumbling around. Unsure why, he silently prayed she would not look back to see his graceful rise. The judgement of others never bothered him, not anymore. In fact, he quite enjoyed that most found him a little odd now. In what felt like a different time, words like "charming" and "charismatic" were often tossed around with his name. Hackjob found it was far easier to be boring. Life was simpler when no one expected anything from him.
He took two hesitant steps behind this striking stranger and cleared his throat yet again. "Um, miss?" His heavy vocals cracked slightly. It wasn't until then he realized he had no idea the last time he had spoken. His own voice sounded foreign, wrong. He pressed on. There was no need to make friends, but it was crucial he made sure he was nowhere near her.
"Would you mind telling me where the hell I am?"
@Famkee I don't mind at all! I'm very rusty so bare with me while I get my groove back (:
Famkee doesn't particularly want to wake him, her plan was not to startle him and if she's lucky, slink by without a second look. Though he's not startled, he's aware of her now and that's all she could ask for as the stallion begins to stir from his odd choice of slumber. He must not be very wise, taking a snooze in the open like this, nor have much feeling in his body to think of hard boulders a comfort sought after. Her ears still bury themselves crudely inside her mane, lost in the long ebony tendrils gently following the winds will along the muscled curve of her shoulder. The stud takes a tedious look at her horn, and for a moment, she wants to puff out her chest, straighten her legs and crane her neck, proud of the gift she was bestowed. Although he looks as though he's never even seen a horned being, and Famkee also wonders if he's seen any other species before, whether winged or finned, hybrids of all shapes and sizes. In fact, despite what her parents, and lineage alike taught her growing up, Famkee thinks of herself quite plain comparatively. The rising sun guides the glow of her eyes, like she was staring into the fiery ball of gas and channeling it's energy as the glowing radiance blossoms up the expanse of her horn and stopping there, lighting up the shadows and casting it's warmth across her face. She has yet to harness the meaning of this ability, as it becomes more prevalent the older she gets.
He rises to his feet rather awkwardly as she stops to take in his frame. He looks a bit taller, with an interesting color scheme, though Famkee has just about seen it all she doesn't find it odd, she continues to observe the grayness of his eyes, the body language he displays. She finds herself taking a few steps back once he's fully stood, teeth clenched tightly together, bodice readily prepared. She doesn't expect his voice, tentative as it is breaking the silence. 'Miss' what is she, her grandmother? Her eyes beg to roll clean into the back her skull, yet they stay forwards, intently so. 'Would you mind telling me where the hell i am?' She wants to chuckle, Famkee wishes she knew that herself. A smirk does manage to lure it's way onto velvet lips, slyly curving the mares mouth. "Do you always sleep in the open? Or better yet, on hardened stone." She couldn't fathom either, but before she answered his uninvited question, she couldn't help the curiosity looming behind a tongue with little to no filter. He couldn't have stumbled across someone more of a virgin to these lands, and she has limited information to offer, being so new herself. How could he be of use to her when he doesn't seem local, if anything, more lost than her. Briefly she thinks of Malik, the hybrid black stallion she had met of Hyaline, a land lost to the hungry bottomless sea. Should she even entertain him, tell him what little she does know? What if he's seen him, what if he knows. Her intrusive thoughts make way and push to the front of her mind, though she can't muster the strength to ask just yet, watching him closely, seeing how he's to respond to her crack at poking the sleepy giant.
A half-assed chuckle escaped his lips, amused by her boldness in questioning his blatantly horrid decisions. The fact that he was equally as impulsive as he was complacent never seemed to work out well, but learnining from mistakes was not in his repertoire. Though the questioned he needed an answer went ignored, he found himself startled by the small warmth he felt just hearing another's voice. There was no recollection of the last time he made any attempt to conversate with another. The only voice he remembered was the one he yearned to forget. Instead it remained tucked in his brain, or whatever was left of it. As he shifted his weight, swaying slightly in an attempt to ease the tingly sensation shooting through his numb limbs, he released a breath he was unaware he was holding. He tilted his head, attempting to size her up. Harmless enough, he found himself thinking. He no longer tried to hide the glances towards her horn. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Apparently, wherever he was, the inhabitants may be of quite a different breed.
"I would still be sleeping if someone had not disturbed me." Though his tone remained flat, a little twitch of his brow was the only indication that it was perhaps a joke. He allowed a few moments to pass, her mention of the stone caused his muscles to suddenly feel stiff, his jaw and neck throbbing. The stranger had a point, his slumber was anything but restful and his entire body ached. At least he had stopped moving, now the question hanging in the air was that of his stay here. He debated ignoring her question, turning and meandering away to keep fleeing, to keep forgetting. But he remained tethered. Surely this creature had more information for him? Afterall, she was here as well. Unless she had quite literally dropped from the sky, there was information being withheld.
The thought briefly flickered across his mind that he could start anew. Buried deep was the sense that simply running through life was a horrible way to do it. In his bones, he remembered what it felt like to love. His family was his world. She became his world. In that phase of his life, Hackjob had never felt safer. All he knew now was regret. Though he had never prayed before in his life, he spent the last year begging whatever deities would listen to go back. To never choose her, to remain grounded in the warmth of his home. If they would give him the chance, she would have never become his kryptonite. Perhaps then, he would be himself, not this hollowed out shell. The thought briefly crossed his mind that the horn could mean magic. Believing in magic was childish, disappointing. A miracle would be welcome though, and besides, there was no lower for him to sink.
"I sleep where I sleep, stone or no stone." With an exaggerated dipping of his head, he slid his right leg forward and bowed. Smirking, he met her eyes. "Hackjob. Now please humor me, what are you doing out here all alone?
He laughs at her berating, though the sarcasm is short lived, as the flat rather tired look on his face returns, save for the quirked brow that made the pensive hold in her shoulders relax just a bit more. Though wether or not she makes it worse, she continues with a careless, yet inviting grin. "You want privacy, yet you rest your head in the open." Famkee briefly absorbs her surroundings again like she wants him to realize the magnitude of his stupidity, before returning to the studs grayish gaze. They resemble clouds on a rainy day, something this place needs more of. "It's not as empty as you'd think." There's hoof prints everywhere in fact, the scent of others faint but still gracing the outskirts of the breeze that plays with the soft tendrils of her mane. He has to be just shy of discovering this place, it would make sense but how he could be so foolish in his awareness? He looks weakened, the stallion's legs nearly shake under his weight, lids still heavy with sleep. He reminds her of herself in these passing moments, when she'd arrived she wasn't much different, yet the sympathy just didn't stick. He isn't shy about the enthrallment of her horn, simultaneously making her want to threaten it's capabilities, or rather shrivel under the bewilderment. It's strange having him look at her this way, something she'd thought so normal.
What could be normal about taking a life. She'd taken many on that day her home was destroyed, nothing but a fragmented memory living in the gutters of her mind. She lives with it every day, like a bloody stain calcified on her soul. You were defending yourself, they were trying to rape you, use you, eradicate all that you knew and loved. Poisonous thoughts are better left shoved for later, she wants to ask, she doesn't care to really, but for some reason curiosity is teetering on the edge of killing the cat. She gives a glance upwards, gesturing to her weapon crowned upon her head. "Have you ever seen a horned equine?" The innocence in her voice dares to appear, baffled at how he studies the protrusion. Her childhood was spent with equines of the sea, sky and earth, seeing his reaction to such a ordinary accessory has Famkee wondering just how long he's been alone, or just how sheltered he'd been. She can see it in his eyes, and again she's reminded of herself, lost in the throes of the past, chained and tightly held by it's leathery claws. It's a bitch to get rid of, and Famkee's gaze softens as the stallion introduces himself with a bow that makes her mirror his slight smirk, though she doesn't return the favor of offering her title. 'what are you doing out here all alone?' She wants to laugh at that, and she does, a small airy giggle that's disbelieving of his words. If only he knew how long she'd been alone, searching, waiting, dying on the inside, rotting."I could ask you the same." Her voice is soft, taunting under her breath. "Where do you travel from? You're obviously not a local." And would be little help to her, she thinks. But what information she might could squeeze, keeps the mare stationary, at least for a little while. Golden eyes peer deeper, scrutinizing in their depth as she takes another step or two closer. There's something endearing about his naiveté, it's a hook in her cheek that she couldn't quite escape if she tried.
His gray eyes remained trained on her as she gazed around. Something about this equine seemed far more interesting than the world unfolding before him. When her gaze returned, only then did he humor her by moving his head from side to side, letting out a long whistle. ”Privacy is for those who have something to hide..” Allowing the words to linger for a moment, his demon’s face clouded his memories again. Hackjob had more to hide than he would ever admit to anyone, let alone himself. That was too dangerous. As a young colt, he was well aware of the fact that denial was the only way to stay safe. Dig a grave, toss in all your secrets, and run away. Before long others would forget the wrong doings, the tragedies, the loss. Surely, he could as well.
”I like empty. No one questions my resting habits then.” A coy smile played across his lips. Poking fun at her was, sadly, the most fun he had managed in quite some time. Fun. Such a strange concept. The green pelted stallion knew he was in his prime. Everything should be exciting and new, he should be thrilled to have found a strange new land, with strange new beings. Yet the strings of his brain kept reigning him in, reminding him life was not something he was meant to enjoy.
”Have you ever seen a horned equine?” The question pulls him back into the present, his brows raised. She was rather straightforward, and that he appreciated. His voice came out low, but much warmer than before. Of course, he had never seen such a thing. However, for whatever reason, this new acquaintance was sticking around, and offending this beautifully strange creature was not on his to-do list. ”I’m afraid to say I have not. It’s quite…Lovely?” With the last word stumbling out like a question he chuckles. ”I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.”
The brief laughter that fell from her lips caused his entire body to unintentionally perk up. The sound was committed to his memory- he had no idea the next time he might hear a sound that wasn’t his own racing thoughts. The mare did not offer up her name, but he couldn’t rightfully blame her. Afterall, she knew nothing of him, or he of her. ”My travels are boring, and irrelevant.” He managed, keeping his voice as even as possible. ”You’re correct though, I’m not from here. Yourself?” The question is left as open ended as possible, afterall, he was seeking information. Sometimes you had to take what you could get.
'Privacy is for those who have something to hide.' For once the stallion has something insightful to say, her brows raise slightly at the validity and she thought him a dumb brute, yet actions still speak louder than words to the mare. Is he excluding himself from having any secrets then? Her agreement that shows on her pretty face is superficial, eventually perishing and her sly grin that's quite greedy to show it's face today reappears like it belongs there. "Everyone has something to hide." Eyes flash a radiant aurelian, the glow spreading up the serrated bone of her horn like two woven snakes bound to each other. He continues his sarcasm, poking fun at her seems to open him up a bit, crack the shell he wears as a shield. It's not hard to see, he carries his past like a suit of armor, heavy and cumbersome on his back. It might protect along the way but eventually without any battles, without any drums of war shaking bones, it becomes rather useless. She can see this so clearly, why? Countless moons crossed the infinite sky as Famkee has done the same, kept locked inside the torment her former life curses her present with. Her brother is still out there, she tells herself. Waiting for her, looking for her as dutifully as she.
'It's quite, lovely? I'm not entirely sure what to make of it.' So he hasn't seen someone like her. Despite his awe, she doesn't expect that answer, and it makes something in her chest bloom that's been long absent. She scowls internally at the feeling, scaring the flowers that flourish in her ribcage to wilt. Lovely? Though she's hidden most of her reaction, the endearment is too strong to suppress inside her gaze, granting the stallion at least some form of a thank you. She's never thought of it that way, or herself for that matter. Her horn was nothing more than a tool of battle, a weapon to take a life. Well, other than the magic she's come to discover as she grows with age and maturity, yet she hasn't tamed the origin nor the meaning. It remains a mystery, perhaps a gift entrusted by her parents. She was a huntress, a warrior, and she looked and most importantly acted the part. Her body is thick, fit and capable of bloodshed. "There's many of us. Horses dance in the sky with wings like birds, or in the sea finned like the animals who dwell there." She nods, looking to the sky who's colors are particularly bright, admiring the blues and contrasting whites the clouds decorate it with. "It's nothing more than a weapon to me." She shakes her head, long ebony forelock splits along both sides of it perfectly. He doesn't hesitate with vague recollections of his voyage, though for some reason she desires details, something to maybe grasp for familiarity. "Like you, I've only just arrived recently. A local found me, he speaks of a storm, one so savage it sank lands into the sea, and destroying most territories." She finds herself selfishly revealing too much again, for her own benefit. "I suppose i search for a new beginning." A deep breath swells her chest, and stays there like it was difficult for her to even say it. It was, some truth to her words sours strange on the tongue, it's so much more comfortable to lie, to deny. "And you, Hackjob," She says his name as it falls from her lips, taking another weary step forwards to dig her words a little deeper. She finds herself pushing boundaries, and fuck it feels good? She doesn't want to stop. "You run from your past, as do i," She's bold, growing by the second as she continues to prod at his vulnerabilities he so unmistakably endures. What for she doesn't quite know yet, maybe this way she can pick the brain of someone so different yet so similar in their pain. "What do you seek?"
Enthralled. That was the only word that seemed appropriate for the feelings creeping way through his body. He continued to watch her intently, her eyes and horn glowing with a strange intensity that could not be ignored. The tiniest twinge of her brow, or curl of her lip allowed him the shred of confidence he so desperately sought. There was no doubt in his mind he was being pitied. Or perhaps the mare was simply bored. Regardless, it was the longest he had spoken to anyone in what felt like eons of solitude. Equally confusing and relieving, he felt his body lighten. Muscles still on guard began to relax. Attempting to be discrete, he shifted his jaw, unaware of just how long it had been clenched.
Though it seemed faint, she seemed to enjoy his honesty in regards to her horn. A quick chill breezed down his spine, though the cause he could not identify. Springtime was always one of his favorites, the air always so crisp and life sprouting again. Winter brought death and decay, but spring was always there to heal. Healing was a process he had disregarded, at least in terms of himself. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she mentioned equines flying. His eyes followed her gaze upwards, lost in time for a moment at the thought of someone like himself with wings. Running was easy, but flying away from your problem? Well that seemed too good to be true. Then again, he’d never stumbled upon anyone with a protrusion sprouting from their head like a sword, so who was he to question any of this. She went on to speak over sea creatures, which made him pause to think. All of his life, Hackjob knew he was different. Many dappled creatures had crossed his path before, but none like him. None the color that had deemed him names such as ‘sickly’ and ‘cursed’. Maybe, just maybe, here he would be normal.
He remained silent, soaking in her words. Then she called her horn a weapon and he scoffed. ”A weapon sure,” His voice rumbled. ”But you must admit, it makes you something different. Sometimes that’s the best thing we can be.” The moment the words left his mouth he internally cursed himself. What the hell was he saying? The stallion was not the type to be inspirational, or whatever you could call the words that flooded through the dam of his lips before he could stop them. With a subtle shrug, he inhaled deeply and was grateful she was speaking again. He sounded foolish.
”Sounds like a pretty horrid storm…” He found himself glancing around again, trying to imagine the sort of weather that could rip this place apart. Part of him wished he had arrived sooner. If only he could have disappeared, the sea tugging him down until it consumed him whole.
A new beginning the words fall from her lips and he finds himself relieved. For once, she seemed to offer up something a bit more personal. Something he so desperately understood. Though he pretended not to notice the swell of her breath catching in her chest, he found himself releasing his own. Hearing his name come from anothers mouth felt foreign, almost surreal. A hesitant step forward caused him to jerk his neck back in surprise, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and, whether he’d admit it or not, excitement . Of course, it was followed by her bold and very accurate presumption that he was running. Being called out struck a nerve, but he found himself feeling emboldened and took a small stride closer. ”It seems we’re both very skilled sprinters then. Neither of us seem to have run far enough.” The words were more for him than anything. There would never be far enough, safety is unattainable when you’re the reason you’re seeking it. ”I also seek a new beginning…” He paused briefly before once again allowing words to spill out that were meant to be under lock and key. ”I need freedom. Or a chance to remember what that words means.”
09-28-2022, 02:01 PM (This post was last modified: 09-28-2022, 02:05 PM by Famkee.)
For the first time since she saw him, she begins to relax, not completely so but enough to realize consciously that she was holding tension throughout her body. It's a rather enjoyable feeling, being aware of muscles releasing strain and for a moment her mind wants to space out, leave somewhere else. It's as if he's tethered to her in this way, he visibly loosens as she does. It frightens her that she's actually beginning to like this feeling, this interaction brings her a sense of solace knowing that there's someone else sharing an ache akin to her own. She doesn't even have to know his story, where he came from. Buried in his cloudy gaze, and for a moment it seems unreal that she's even entertaining the thought. He looks like a colt freshly dropped from the womb at the mention of other species of the sky and sea, she watches the cogs twist and turn behind his lids and this brings a genuine smile to curl the corners of velvet lips. It stays there, longer than she'd like. "Your home, it wasn't mixed or aware of other species?"Without warning she takes her time to stride beside him and eventually behind him up towards the rocky remnants, taking in the rubble and pondering what became of the ruins. It's as if she's a child of the sun, it favors her coat beautifully as it bakes down on her, golden hues shine while darker points contrast. Her tail slaps her flank knowing that he could be watching her, making sure that her rump isn't displayed for longer than it has to.
Famkee tries to ignore the eerie chill trilling up her spine, the magnitude of magic, natural disaster or wrath to destroy such a land, such a piece of history now corroding just like everything else. Another thing she attempts to ignore is his philosophical approach, so uncharacteristic in this moment that it makes the mare blink owlishly, hooves planted on stone outcrops as if she's to get some grounding from the very earth she stands on. Different. It was everything she was taught not to be, everything she isn't. Again, her mouth wants to stop the words from coming, desperate as her lips open and then close. "I was a soldier." She allows the breeze to lift her chest as she inhales, and for a moment she wishes it could just take her away, it would be more rational than what she's revealing to a stranger, and for what, Famkee continues to speculate. Perhaps in some way he's recognized her guard and allowed the armor to fall, yet Famkee is struggling to pick up the pieces in time. "All of us were horned, we were seen as mercenary's. One single unit." She's created a block on these memories so large it's difficult to even remember, Famkee begins to think she'd barely even lived, going through the motions and thus cultivating nothing for the mind to stick to. She's thankful, yet the invasion of her homeland isn't something she was able to turn off, something that is stuck, like fucking black viscous tar. "So, no. I'm not different." She looks at him this time, cementing her beliefs into his eyes, manipulating the awe he has for her and turning it into something dull, something normal. She wasn't special, she isn't special. 'Neither of us seem to have run far enough.' This measly sentence from his mouth, has her seizing, frozen. Her ears once alert slam themselves to flatten, and for a moment her ass end begs her to spin around and gift the stallion a broken jaw, complements from her back hooves. She asked for this, her emboldened state has withered, and backfired. She seems to have fattened his confidence, she hasn't even really noticed he's gotten closer to her. She can't let him win, so she presses further. "Freedom is subjective." Her lips spit poison, and she isn't satisfied with his answer. Freedom sounds like a fairytale, a bird flying just out of reach. Tangible to the eye but not the soul. Her eyes darken, bodice turned horizontal to him, now turns to face the stallion, imprinting unfavorable morals."How will you achieve this, freedom Hackjob." It sounds evil, the weight of it is crushing but again, the curiosity bleeds a fountain inside her that's impossible to smother.
![[Image: EOU990v.png]](https://i.imgur.com/EOU990v.png)
Famkee [Fahm-key]