07-30-2020, 10:06 AM
snag the sky, make it bleed starlight
She wants to touch her, when the mare gestures to the place in her breast where that bit of starfire still burns, Shipka wants to reach out and press her small nose there as well. It is, in part, a gesture of sympathy for all the things lost to @[Islas], but it is also her own longing for the impossible heights between the pair and the stars above them.
She wants to, but she doesn't. Instead, she mirrors the softly glowing mare, brushes the small point of her dark chest, and imagines what it must feel like to have that flickering flame burning cold beside her heart. Unfair, is what she thinks to herself as her own breath softly stirs the midnight-colored hair that curls there. Unfair that Islas is a creature apart, neither star nor horse, and that her life is spent caught between worlds.
Shipka, though she longs for the stars, is truly part of this place below. She is fully a creature of emotion and feeling and though she is coming to understand that Islas does not experience those things - at least, not in the same way or with the same fervor - she feels a flood of grief and anger, as though the white mare's lack doubles the bite of her feelings.
"But that's not fair!" Her small ears flick back and she stamps a foreleg, denting the soft red-sand dirt with the edge of her black hoof, firm lips curling into a petulant frown. "Things should be fair," she insists again, childishly unaware that the world isn't fair, "everyone should belong somewhere."
She wants to, but she doesn't. Instead, she mirrors the softly glowing mare, brushes the small point of her dark chest, and imagines what it must feel like to have that flickering flame burning cold beside her heart. Unfair, is what she thinks to herself as her own breath softly stirs the midnight-colored hair that curls there. Unfair that Islas is a creature apart, neither star nor horse, and that her life is spent caught between worlds.
Shipka, though she longs for the stars, is truly part of this place below. She is fully a creature of emotion and feeling and though she is coming to understand that Islas does not experience those things - at least, not in the same way or with the same fervor - she feels a flood of grief and anger, as though the white mare's lack doubles the bite of her feelings.
"But that's not fair!" Her small ears flick back and she stamps a foreleg, denting the soft red-sand dirt with the edge of her black hoof, firm lips curling into a petulant frown. "Things should be fair," she insists again, childishly unaware that the world isn't fair, "everyone should belong somewhere."
