10-18-2015, 06:32 PM
la jeune fille marquée
Minette cannot remember the last time someone was truly kind to her. Gryffen has been trying, and his current demeanor is a marked improvement on the sadistic rapist once he was (and still is, although she doesn't know it). Yet even his strides pale in comparison to the few gentle words that Magnus has already spoken. She feels tears threaten again and she blinks. When was the last time she didn't feel like she needed to apologize for every move she makes? For breathing, for existing, for taking up space? For not measuring up to the woman she feels she should be? She knows she had faith in herself once upon a time but that seems so long ago.
She nods mutely, and moves closer to him so their bodies are side by side. He towers over her, but most horses do, and it doesn't cross her mind to be afraid of him. He could easily break her, but he would find from the cracks that she has already been broken and remade. Like many things in her recent life, Minette does not take the time to ponder why she does not fear Magnus. She simply accepts the warmth of him near her as easily as the sun rising each morning.
A weary sigh bubbles up from her chest, a broken sound. But this time it a release, and she relaxes, some of the tension fluttering from her muscles.
“I shouldn't be here.” Minette murmurs into his shoulder. “He won't like it.”
She glances up into the trees then. A flutter of wings appears and dissapears, and though she can't tell for certain, she knows it is a raven. She is always shadowed by them. Gryffen's spies and Straia's pets. Even though Gryffen says he trusts her, that he is learning to care for her, the ravens are always there. Her dreams are filled with them.
Minette looks away from the black bird. Her movements are quick, practiced. It would be hard to see the look of hatred in her eyes if the stallion had not been watching. The birds have become the symbol for everything that has damaged her, for every thing that has scarred her body. They were there when she was raped. They were there when Gryffen beat her near to death. They were there when he chased her into the mouth of hell to be tortured by Carnage. They are the backdrop to her life.
“That would be lovely.” Minette says with grateful look. “But I don't think Gryffen will want me to leave the mountains in the winter. It gets hard to travel, and he's protective.”
Not to mention she will probably be carrying another of his children. If she thinks of it at any length, she knows it is a child she doesn't wish to bear. Gryffen has been gentle and considerate, but in this he is insistent. Minette hates the violation of herself, of the months of reminder that she is little more than a reliquary for her stallion's offspring.
Oh, but she loves her children, she thinks with guilt. She doesn't regret them, Anguisette and Leck. Just the making of them. It's a dichotomy of feeling that tears her apart.
“Thank you, for your company. I'm often lonely and my thoughts are not always kind.” She smiles again and it softens the lines of her face and brightens her dark eyes.
She nods mutely, and moves closer to him so their bodies are side by side. He towers over her, but most horses do, and it doesn't cross her mind to be afraid of him. He could easily break her, but he would find from the cracks that she has already been broken and remade. Like many things in her recent life, Minette does not take the time to ponder why she does not fear Magnus. She simply accepts the warmth of him near her as easily as the sun rising each morning.
A weary sigh bubbles up from her chest, a broken sound. But this time it a release, and she relaxes, some of the tension fluttering from her muscles.
“I shouldn't be here.” Minette murmurs into his shoulder. “He won't like it.”
She glances up into the trees then. A flutter of wings appears and dissapears, and though she can't tell for certain, she knows it is a raven. She is always shadowed by them. Gryffen's spies and Straia's pets. Even though Gryffen says he trusts her, that he is learning to care for her, the ravens are always there. Her dreams are filled with them.
Minette looks away from the black bird. Her movements are quick, practiced. It would be hard to see the look of hatred in her eyes if the stallion had not been watching. The birds have become the symbol for everything that has damaged her, for every thing that has scarred her body. They were there when she was raped. They were there when Gryffen beat her near to death. They were there when he chased her into the mouth of hell to be tortured by Carnage. They are the backdrop to her life.
“That would be lovely.” Minette says with grateful look. “But I don't think Gryffen will want me to leave the mountains in the winter. It gets hard to travel, and he's protective.”
Not to mention she will probably be carrying another of his children. If she thinks of it at any length, she knows it is a child she doesn't wish to bear. Gryffen has been gentle and considerate, but in this he is insistent. Minette hates the violation of herself, of the months of reminder that she is little more than a reliquary for her stallion's offspring.
Oh, but she loves her children, she thinks with guilt. She doesn't regret them, Anguisette and Leck. Just the making of them. It's a dichotomy of feeling that tears her apart.
“Thank you, for your company. I'm often lonely and my thoughts are not always kind.” She smiles again and it softens the lines of her face and brightens her dark eyes.