01-02-2016, 05:30 AM
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
She remembers herself when he stretches himself tall above her.
An impressive thing to do, when she still isn’t sure who she is (she just knows that she will be somebody), but this cowering little thing is not going to be her. She will not shake when pressed, she will not jump because she is expected to. She will be bold and forward and she won’t let anyone ever push her around.
Except this stallion still scares her, and though she knows what she wants to say to him (anything, really, just to get him to back away half a step, to rethink her entirely), she still cannot control her voice any more than she can control her power.
When she is released from the fear (as much as anyone ever can be; it still sits there, quietly, waiting), she forces herself to look the stallion in the eyes. And then he is gone, and she gasps - he must be like her. Like her and more beyond, of course, but this golden horse with his battered wing and his aura of darkness, and this little girl with nothing except bright colours, they share something.
She wonders, briefly, if she has other powers too.
But then he whispers in her ear and she forgets everything else she ever thought.
She even forgets herself, her fear, just for a few moments while she is in awe. “How do you do that?” she breathes. Despite everything she wanted herself to be - independent, brave, wholly in charge of her own life - she needs someone to show her how to control her invisibility.
“Can you-” she pauses, unsure of how to ask, still afraid that she will be afraid of him. But she cannot spend her life like this (as if she can imagine her life, she is barely hours old), and this sort of opportunity may never appear again. So she steels herself, straightening up and gritting her teeth. It would help the overall picture, of course, if she could see the stallion, look into his eyes, but she is doing her best.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” Inside, she still wants to turn and run, and it is taking all her willpower to stay here. But here she stands, still defiant, though that little pit of fear gnaws at her heart. She cannot be afraid. She cannot be scared.
She begins to tremble slightly again.
An impressive thing to do, when she still isn’t sure who she is (she just knows that she will be somebody), but this cowering little thing is not going to be her. She will not shake when pressed, she will not jump because she is expected to. She will be bold and forward and she won’t let anyone ever push her around.
Except this stallion still scares her, and though she knows what she wants to say to him (anything, really, just to get him to back away half a step, to rethink her entirely), she still cannot control her voice any more than she can control her power.
When she is released from the fear (as much as anyone ever can be; it still sits there, quietly, waiting), she forces herself to look the stallion in the eyes. And then he is gone, and she gasps - he must be like her. Like her and more beyond, of course, but this golden horse with his battered wing and his aura of darkness, and this little girl with nothing except bright colours, they share something.
She wonders, briefly, if she has other powers too.
But then he whispers in her ear and she forgets everything else she ever thought.
She even forgets herself, her fear, just for a few moments while she is in awe. “How do you do that?” she breathes. Despite everything she wanted herself to be - independent, brave, wholly in charge of her own life - she needs someone to show her how to control her invisibility.
“Can you-” she pauses, unsure of how to ask, still afraid that she will be afraid of him. But she cannot spend her life like this (as if she can imagine her life, she is barely hours old), and this sort of opportunity may never appear again. So she steels herself, straightening up and gritting her teeth. It would help the overall picture, of course, if she could see the stallion, look into his eyes, but she is doing her best.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” Inside, she still wants to turn and run, and it is taking all her willpower to stay here. But here she stands, still defiant, though that little pit of fear gnaws at her heart. She cannot be afraid. She cannot be scared.
She begins to tremble slightly again.
ELVE
![[Image: n2oih3.png]](http://i64.tinypic.com/n2oih3.png)