01-01-2016, 05:32 AM
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
She is born invisible.
That may come to be an omen of her life, but it is too early, she is too new and fresh and fragile, so fragile, but those deep dark eyes dare you to tell her so. Those deep dark eyes are full of the stubbornness and bluster of the young, before they realise that threatening words mean nothing without the power to back it up.
She is only hours old, even the power she does have is unwieldy, causing her to slip in and out of a body so brightly coloured it makes her scowl. She is too young to be so disagreeable, yet here she is, full of frowns and hate and something that doesn’t make it into words.
At hours old, she slips away from her mother (with no regard to the worry it may cause the mare, already shaken from giving birth to seemingly-nothing) and makes her way on trembling limbs to another place. Her physical presence flickers, but her mind grows stronger; she can almost believe she is beginning to control the power.
As she walks, she hears the buzz of bodies growing louder, an orchestra of voices in the air, and she finds herself drawn towards it (though of course she would say the whole thing was her idea, if asked). She hovers on the edge of the Meadow, eyes wide, scanning the numerous horses that are all here, some alone, some in pairs, some in large groups. There are more colours than she can imagine just yet, more powers than she believes are possible.
And she realises that though she has been born, her life hasn’t even begun yet. And unlike so many children, who wish to draw out the years of immaturity and folly, this little filly wants to dive straight in and become something.
But for now she is tired - the combination of a long walk to the Meadow, and attempting to control her invisibility, has sapped her strength, and she collapses into the regrowing grass, struggling to keep her eyes open, not sure if she wants to be seen or hidden.
It doesn’t matter what she wants, though, her body continues to be here and then be gone; it will take more than a few hours of practice to be in control.
She manages to stay awake a while longer, watching, wondering what will be made of her.
That may come to be an omen of her life, but it is too early, she is too new and fresh and fragile, so fragile, but those deep dark eyes dare you to tell her so. Those deep dark eyes are full of the stubbornness and bluster of the young, before they realise that threatening words mean nothing without the power to back it up.
She is only hours old, even the power she does have is unwieldy, causing her to slip in and out of a body so brightly coloured it makes her scowl. She is too young to be so disagreeable, yet here she is, full of frowns and hate and something that doesn’t make it into words.
At hours old, she slips away from her mother (with no regard to the worry it may cause the mare, already shaken from giving birth to seemingly-nothing) and makes her way on trembling limbs to another place. Her physical presence flickers, but her mind grows stronger; she can almost believe she is beginning to control the power.
As she walks, she hears the buzz of bodies growing louder, an orchestra of voices in the air, and she finds herself drawn towards it (though of course she would say the whole thing was her idea, if asked). She hovers on the edge of the Meadow, eyes wide, scanning the numerous horses that are all here, some alone, some in pairs, some in large groups. There are more colours than she can imagine just yet, more powers than she believes are possible.
And she realises that though she has been born, her life hasn’t even begun yet. And unlike so many children, who wish to draw out the years of immaturity and folly, this little filly wants to dive straight in and become something.
But for now she is tired - the combination of a long walk to the Meadow, and attempting to control her invisibility, has sapped her strength, and she collapses into the regrowing grass, struggling to keep her eyes open, not sure if she wants to be seen or hidden.
It doesn’t matter what she wants, though, her body continues to be here and then be gone; it will take more than a few hours of practice to be in control.
She manages to stay awake a while longer, watching, wondering what will be made of her.
ELVE
i got too excited and wanted to play her ;D
![[Image: n2oih3.png]](http://i64.tinypic.com/n2oih3.png)