01-30-2022, 08:39 PM
He may have meant it as a rhetorical question, but she doesn’t know what that means. So she says “Yes” - even though she also doesn’t know what would be funny about it. Still, there’s an easy way to check to see if they’re talking about the same angel - it is a name she had known even when she was her monstrous self. “Ryatah?” She asks quietly, watching him for a reaction. “She is my mother’s mother.” The black mare has not had a chance yet to learn about all the different names for relations. It would be much easier to be able to say that, if they were speaking of the same mare, that meant that he was her uncle instead of calling him her mother’s brother, or mother’s mother’s son. Both of which are how she attempts to follow the path of their bloodline in her mind.
It does not nauseate her the way it should to think that she and her mother had eaten someone they were related to. It wouldn’t be the first time. She remembers watching her mother try to eat the weaker siblings when they had been born wrong - and she simply understood that was the way things were. And had only been jealous that she did not get to partake in such easy meals.
There is, however, a new side to her guilt now and she shifts a little uncomfortably.
The next question takes her a little bit by surprise, but she considers it very seriously before answering in her slow and careful voice. “It is harder.” The first few days of hunger when she hadn’t been able to hunt, had been sick when she had found the remains of someone else’s kill and tried to eat it. And finally settled on observing what the other horses ate and mimicking their behaviour. “I do not like the ghosts.” She states, gesturing to the small stars that orbit her.
“But… it is nice to not be so angry.” Even if there was a bliss in only being able to feel one thing.
“And to dream.” A light comes into her dark eyes as she thinks of her dreams. “Not always happy dreams, but I like when they are.”
It does not nauseate her the way it should to think that she and her mother had eaten someone they were related to. It wouldn’t be the first time. She remembers watching her mother try to eat the weaker siblings when they had been born wrong - and she simply understood that was the way things were. And had only been jealous that she did not get to partake in such easy meals.
There is, however, a new side to her guilt now and she shifts a little uncomfortably.
The next question takes her a little bit by surprise, but she considers it very seriously before answering in her slow and careful voice. “It is harder.” The first few days of hunger when she hadn’t been able to hunt, had been sick when she had found the remains of someone else’s kill and tried to eat it. And finally settled on observing what the other horses ate and mimicking their behaviour. “I do not like the ghosts.” She states, gesturing to the small stars that orbit her.
“But… it is nice to not be so angry.” Even if there was a bliss in only being able to feel one thing.
“And to dream.” A light comes into her dark eyes as she thinks of her dreams. “Not always happy dreams, but I like when they are.”
NOSTROMO
@Cassian