Wichita
surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
The little mare was not stupid by any means,but she wasn't entirely well educated either. Sociopath, it's not a term she's ever heard, nor knows the first thing about. In her eyes, Rapscallion is just, different. Strange maybe. She doesn't even consider that he has some sort of antisocial disorder, simply because she doesn't know what that is.
Every word he speaks, makes her ears fall flatter and flatter. How sad, to not know what warm feelings were since birth. Perhaps his Mother had not loved him enough as a child. Why, he had just said she had taught him feelings were irrelevant.
"Well, I don't think that's true. Feelin's seem ta be the root of everythin' ta me." She looks away, studying the landscape, the rows and rows of trees in the wood. "What about tha choices we make, ain't there always a reason behind 'em?" She wonders, saying her thoughts out loud. Still though, she couldn't read him and it was starting to worry her. Maybe she wasn't so good at this empathy thing, maybe it only worked on her children. Then he moves, jerks away from her and she feels thoroughly squashed. "Oh." A sad tone to her words, but mostly she just sounds embarrassed. For a moment she wonders if it's because he's never been with a woman, even though she wasn't much of a woman herself. She didn't feel like it anyways, most of the time she just felt like a young girl, smaller and more inadequate than everyone else.
For a moment. In the next moment he is disproving her trail of thought. Children. So he had kids, that was good right? That was a turn in the right direction she thought.
"Ya do?" She blurts in surprise, and then hurries to save herself from, herself. "I mean, ya do, that's great. With Sunday? Oh yes I've met her a few times, she's very lovely." She says brightly, because there simply wasn't anything bad to say about the Amazon mare. What strikes her as odd is the last bit, about her mind. Maybe he meant that in an intellectual sort of way. "Oh, well I suppose that would be interesting, I'm sure she's quite the conversationalist. Magik and all, ain't that somethin'?" She flicks her tail clearly taken with the conversation, her ears pull forward wondering what odd things might spill from his lips next. His terribly kissable, velvet lips.
She shakes her head, forcing the thought away. That wasn't really helping her read him at all. "How come I can't tell if your having a good time?" She tilts her head a bit, wondering why he was so closed off. Was it a trick? Had Sunday taught it to him? Could she teach her?
Every word he speaks, makes her ears fall flatter and flatter. How sad, to not know what warm feelings were since birth. Perhaps his Mother had not loved him enough as a child. Why, he had just said she had taught him feelings were irrelevant.
"Well, I don't think that's true. Feelin's seem ta be the root of everythin' ta me." She looks away, studying the landscape, the rows and rows of trees in the wood. "What about tha choices we make, ain't there always a reason behind 'em?" She wonders, saying her thoughts out loud. Still though, she couldn't read him and it was starting to worry her. Maybe she wasn't so good at this empathy thing, maybe it only worked on her children. Then he moves, jerks away from her and she feels thoroughly squashed. "Oh." A sad tone to her words, but mostly she just sounds embarrassed. For a moment she wonders if it's because he's never been with a woman, even though she wasn't much of a woman herself. She didn't feel like it anyways, most of the time she just felt like a young girl, smaller and more inadequate than everyone else.
For a moment. In the next moment he is disproving her trail of thought. Children. So he had kids, that was good right? That was a turn in the right direction she thought.
"Ya do?" She blurts in surprise, and then hurries to save herself from, herself. "I mean, ya do, that's great. With Sunday? Oh yes I've met her a few times, she's very lovely." She says brightly, because there simply wasn't anything bad to say about the Amazon mare. What strikes her as odd is the last bit, about her mind. Maybe he meant that in an intellectual sort of way. "Oh, well I suppose that would be interesting, I'm sure she's quite the conversationalist. Magik and all, ain't that somethin'?" She flicks her tail clearly taken with the conversation, her ears pull forward wondering what odd things might spill from his lips next. His terribly kissable, velvet lips.
She shakes her head, forcing the thought away. That wasn't really helping her read him at all. "How come I can't tell if your having a good time?" She tilts her head a bit, wondering why he was so closed off. Was it a trick? Had Sunday taught it to him? Could she teach her?
amen.
Lady and Governor of Heaven's Gates