08-13-2026, 08:15 PM
He had felt things, once. He had tasted joy on his tongue. Joy was sweet and bright. But like every fool that came before him he forgot to savor it, and when the sweetness gave way to the bitter taste of loss he was left heart sick and broken.
A broken man, thats what he was. Life (and mostly love) had broken him, and hardened his heart into the frozen thing that now sat stoney in his chest.
"I'm hurt." she confirms, seemingly as bad at conversation as himself. Or perhaps it was the aching that made her short of tongue. A part of his mind remembered sympathy, and the memory culminated into a soft sigh that drifted from his mouth. The mare was in dire straights, that much he knew without the aid of beating heart. The night was only going to get colder and while it would not harm him, he was not wounded and shivering on the ground.
Her next words brought a crook to the corner of his lips, though the smile didn't reach the depths of his eyes. Instead of heeding her warning he stepped forward, lowering his head to meet her gaze. Despite the wounds he could not smell infection, a sign which he took for a positive. "Maybe the lack of flies is more to do with the cold rather than an imagined curse." he said simply but not unkindly. With another sigh he reached forward to nudge her shoulder, but removing it quickly before the cold of his muzzle could seep into her golden flesh. "Come on. Up you get, Hurt." It was a poor attempt at a joke, but it was the best he could do.
@Ruthless
A broken man, thats what he was. Life (and mostly love) had broken him, and hardened his heart into the frozen thing that now sat stoney in his chest.
"I'm hurt." she confirms, seemingly as bad at conversation as himself. Or perhaps it was the aching that made her short of tongue. A part of his mind remembered sympathy, and the memory culminated into a soft sigh that drifted from his mouth. The mare was in dire straights, that much he knew without the aid of beating heart. The night was only going to get colder and while it would not harm him, he was not wounded and shivering on the ground.
Her next words brought a crook to the corner of his lips, though the smile didn't reach the depths of his eyes. Instead of heeding her warning he stepped forward, lowering his head to meet her gaze. Despite the wounds he could not smell infection, a sign which he took for a positive. "Maybe the lack of flies is more to do with the cold rather than an imagined curse." he said simply but not unkindly. With another sigh he reached forward to nudge her shoulder, but removing it quickly before the cold of his muzzle could seep into her golden flesh. "Come on. Up you get, Hurt." It was a poor attempt at a joke, but it was the best he could do.
@Ruthless