05-29-2024, 12:56 AM
. there is no pain you are receding .
Bequanna… she whispers under her breath all while obsidian vision watches Kreation.
It held a certain ring: neither bitter nor grey, but bright and delectable. Red mare found herself intrigued. She shifts her stare from the mechanical madame across the dawn-lit Meadow to the looming mountain. Magic? She’d heard tales of wondrous beasts in faraway lands, however, Opium had grown to understand them to be nothing more than a filly’s fable. Magic didn’t exist in her world, only suffering.
Ink-tipped ears prick as Kreation continues. They flick with the mention of ‘gifted.’ She tears her attention from the mountain to Phoebus. He wasn’t born of fire, it was a gift?
What…if?
The fire roan speaks, his voice weighted with what she interpreted as regret. He was such a contrast to Kreation. The violet mare was far more fiery than the steed. Kreation wore an aura of fervor and determination. Honestly, it was she who Opium held the most caution toward. There was something the metal mare strove to achieve and it is beyond evident that she will succeed. Yet the literal stallion of fire seemed to hold barely a spark.
“You speak as though you’ve been away,” Red tilts her delicate head, too weary from her travels to withhold her curiosity. “Why did you leave? What brings you ba--” She catches herself with a curt snort and rights her posture. Who was she to intrude? Exhaustion was no reason to forget one’s manners. “My apologies, I shouldn’t pry.” If she weren’t red already a flush of her cheeks might have been caught.
She turns back to Kreation, “You said gifted? Are there...were there..others? Similar to myself?” Not that it matters, or perhaps it does? The red mare wasn’t accustomed to being so plain and she certainly did not enjoy being so vulnerable. It left an awful taste in her mouth.
“Could I?” She pauses, flustered at what she will ask the magic Kreation. “How does one receive such gifts?”
. Red Opium .
@Phoebus
@Kreation