07-11-2023, 10:20 AM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Wishbone welcomes the winter chill after an unseasonably warm autumn. The long, tangled locks of her mane often create a miniature heat source against her neck. It makes winters more bearable, but also makes the heat worse than it should be. There are times when she wishes for the bodies she used to have — especially the mahogany form that still feels like ‘her’ as she truly is, as she is in her dreams and memories — but when a snowstorm or icy rain rolls through, she is thankful for her thick purple coat.
One such snowstorm is slowly approaching, and Wishbone keeps a careful amber eye on the forming clouds as she grazes on leftover snippets in the Meadow. The sky is beginning to look threatening, but still from a distance. She feels comfortable continuing to eat before the ground is fully covered with snowdrifts. Patches of ice poke through the grass, so she drifts between them to grab mouthfuls.
For once, her mind does not wander to the twins or the other failures she seems to remember too well. Wishbone is content to simply be — focusing on eating and keeping a close eye on the oncoming storm.
One such snowstorm is slowly approaching, and Wishbone keeps a careful amber eye on the forming clouds as she grazes on leftover snippets in the Meadow. The sky is beginning to look threatening, but still from a distance. She feels comfortable continuing to eat before the ground is fully covered with snowdrifts. Patches of ice poke through the grass, so she drifts between them to grab mouthfuls.
For once, her mind does not wander to the twins or the other failures she seems to remember too well. Wishbone is content to simply be — focusing on eating and keeping a close eye on the oncoming storm.
@
Malik