we scream our very souls free
It’s almost disappointing, in a way, that such callously spoken words produce no effect. Or perhaps Haunt was simply wrong. Either way, it passes as little more than a fleeting thought, easily banished by a creature as wayward and ephemeral as Haunt. There would be no lingering on past thoughts or perceived emotions. Their attention is too short to sustain it anyway.
Of course, Haunt’s callousness is not purposefully presented. They have come to understand everyone seems to taste the world very differently than does Haunt, and that is both intriguing and confusing. Still, they could hardly be expected to remember all the nuances expected in polite society.
Yellow eyes crinkle briefly as amusement flirts with the edges of Haunt’s nearly indefinable face. She changes the subject so abruptly and so easily that they suspect there is much left unsaid. Maybe she had tasted that bitterness after all.
“Haunt,” the shadow replies almost merrily to her question, the threads of their humor knotting the edges of the syllable. A faint shifting of the shadows herald Haunt’s sudden movement as they push closer, golden eyes eerily intent, fixed unblinkingly upon the bright mare. “What do you know then, silver lady?”
