There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
As her pale muzzle slips softly, unconsciously, along that silver neck, her golden eyes sliding closed, she wonders what if. What if it had been she who had been subjected to such terrible, eternal torment? Would she be as Perse is, a hollow mare filled only with a dark love for one thing? Twisted beyond anything recognizable as the woman (girl?) she had once been? It is a terrifying thought, for it could easily have been her. If He had decided to keep her, rather than releasing her. It could so very easily have been her.
But, oddly, it does not cause her to withdraw as she might once have. Instead, it gives rise to a strange and unfamiliar ache in her chest. One she cannot (will not) name. She should be retreating in disgust. In horror. In something. But she does not. She lingers, eyes closed, listening silently to the confession the silver mare makes.
And when she finally does withdraw, it is only to look at her with a piercing metallic gaze. To whisper a quiet, contemplative inquiry.
”And what if I don’t believe in gods?”
Her next question strikes her momentarily mute. Does she know what it is like to love? She opens her mouth. Closes it. She has no immediate response to that question. She loves her mother, her father. Of course she does. But is that what she means?
No. She is certain that it is not.
When she finally does respond, it is hesitant, unsure, with a faint bewilderment lingering in her eyes.
”I don’t… I don’t know.”
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria
No worries! I am equally guilty :|