steady as a preacher, free as a weed…
--couldn‘t wait to get goin‘ but wasn‘t quite ready to leave
She wasn’t used to being stifled.
She was used to doing as she pleased, unchecked and reckless. But in the presence of this mare, she felt choked. Her mind was static and fog. Beneath the haze she felt her powers struggling, trying to break through the mire to the surface. Had she been older and more practiced, perhaps she could have fought it. But as it was she felt herself slipping beneath the waves of static that the brown mare was casting off.
Then suddenly, the blanket felt lifted somewhat. The air was lighter somehow, and Topsail could feel her powers beginning to resurface. There was still the static hum, but it was less than before. It was tolerable now, where at first it had been downright miserable. She relaxed somewhat, though there was concern etched onto her small face. Judging by the lather on the brown mares neck, and the way her nostrils flared pink, it was obviously a struggle. Despite her initial confusion and anger, Topsail found herself sympathizing. With a sigh she stepped forward, placing her black muzzle against the brown mares shoulder. The skin felt somewhat electric, so Topsail didn’t linger, but she hoped the mare understood. “I’m not magic though. I just don’t have a real voice…” she thought, looking into Etro’s eyes to see if her message came through. She had grown so dependant on her power that she hadn’t practiced communicating without her mind. “It’s ok. This seems more difficult for you than it is for me. I’m sorry for…well, I don’t know. But I’m sorry.” She lowered her small head, trying to convey sympathy in her motions. Finally she smiled, bumping her nose into the brown mares shoulder. If Etro could try to change for her, then surely Topsail could try and do the same.
topsail