02-20-2022, 04:56 PM
The young stallion tells her there are better places to hide from ghosts, but she knows this is false. He offers a few suggestions and she watches him with her sad, dark eyes. “It does not matter, they will follow.” She tells him honestly and gestures to the very lights that surround her. The ones lazily orbiting her, bathing her in soft starlight.
To her they look malicious, no matter how slowly they move or how pretty their light is.
When he looks to them, she does as well - watching them warily as they come close to her, still on-edge even though the lights themselves never touch her skin. It’s what they can do with rocks and branches and sticks that makes her wary of them and there are all manners of small nicks and scratches on her body as a result of their trickery.
Finally she answers his question about how she feels about trees - taking the inquiry very seriously as she does all things. “I do not like trees. More for the ghosts to hit me with there.”
Though she was cold and soaked, this spot at least seemed safe for now.
Thinking that it is only polite to return the question, she asks earnestly. “How do you feel about trees?” She does not understand why she would wish to know this - she just knows that she has heard questions repeated back in forth in conversations and believes that it must just be another thing about interactions she's had to learn very late in life.
To her they look malicious, no matter how slowly they move or how pretty their light is.
When he looks to them, she does as well - watching them warily as they come close to her, still on-edge even though the lights themselves never touch her skin. It’s what they can do with rocks and branches and sticks that makes her wary of them and there are all manners of small nicks and scratches on her body as a result of their trickery.
Finally she answers his question about how she feels about trees - taking the inquiry very seriously as she does all things. “I do not like trees. More for the ghosts to hit me with there.”
Though she was cold and soaked, this spot at least seemed safe for now.
Thinking that it is only polite to return the question, she asks earnestly. “How do you feel about trees?” She does not understand why she would wish to know this - she just knows that she has heard questions repeated back in forth in conversations and believes that it must just be another thing about interactions she's had to learn very late in life.
NOSTROMO
@bolder