08-15-2016, 02:01 AM
My eyes settle on his poised face like a hawk sighting mouse. He does nothing, his expression a perfected sculpt of coldness and passiveness that I cannot begin to assume his thoughts or intentions. He disintegrated from the darkness that I once felt so safe in, and now had tarnished my view of what was safe and what is not. And to top it off, his face is a sculpture, and no emotion reads from his eyes.
“If this is what a princess looks like, then perhaps it is good I have avoided kingdoms all together,” I level out my tone to sound neutral, though it is evident I am guarded. Guarded because he is magical, guarded because I can only fly so fast and I can only stand to fight if I can see what I am fighting. A slight flicker in the twigs above us allows the sun to peak, beams lightly cascading across his face, and I become distracted in his golden coat.
Heavily large wings wrap themselves around my sides, though they are far too bulky to fit my barrel as his appears to. He speaks of nightmares, but I cannot relate to this. Demons of my mind have not come to haunt me yet, I am still free of their torture. My only nightmare being death; I am petrified to die. Petrified to realize that there is nothing beyond blackness once my eyes close that last time. Petrified to learn that an afterlife was a folks tale made to instill hope in living creatures.
But that nightmare only haunts me before I sleep.
“Just because I am not your nightmare yet, does not mean I will not make the cut,” blue eyes angle at his golden stature before lifting my feathered head to level with his own, seeing him analyze my frame, “enough staring. I come to the shadows to avoid it.”
His guardian angel comment rolls of my shoulder, I may as well consider myself lucky. Whatever haunts him has his own mind preoccupied, and heaven forbid he attempts to juggle my fate along with his own. My eyes shift to stare beyond the shadows, eyeing the distant mingling of other equines.
His tone, again, breaks the silence. My, what a talker he is. Carefully, I dissect his question as it molds through the air like a piano note. “No, I do not need someone to care for me,” a hardness forms my aura as I shift moods, “I have done well enough so far.”
Instinctively my eyes raise, appearing to challenge yet my intention only out of sincere curiosity, “what about you?”
“If this is what a princess looks like, then perhaps it is good I have avoided kingdoms all together,” I level out my tone to sound neutral, though it is evident I am guarded. Guarded because he is magical, guarded because I can only fly so fast and I can only stand to fight if I can see what I am fighting. A slight flicker in the twigs above us allows the sun to peak, beams lightly cascading across his face, and I become distracted in his golden coat.
Heavily large wings wrap themselves around my sides, though they are far too bulky to fit my barrel as his appears to. He speaks of nightmares, but I cannot relate to this. Demons of my mind have not come to haunt me yet, I am still free of their torture. My only nightmare being death; I am petrified to die. Petrified to realize that there is nothing beyond blackness once my eyes close that last time. Petrified to learn that an afterlife was a folks tale made to instill hope in living creatures.
But that nightmare only haunts me before I sleep.
“Just because I am not your nightmare yet, does not mean I will not make the cut,” blue eyes angle at his golden stature before lifting my feathered head to level with his own, seeing him analyze my frame, “enough staring. I come to the shadows to avoid it.”
His guardian angel comment rolls of my shoulder, I may as well consider myself lucky. Whatever haunts him has his own mind preoccupied, and heaven forbid he attempts to juggle my fate along with his own. My eyes shift to stare beyond the shadows, eyeing the distant mingling of other equines.
His tone, again, breaks the silence. My, what a talker he is. Carefully, I dissect his question as it molds through the air like a piano note. “No, I do not need someone to care for me,” a hardness forms my aura as I shift moods, “I have done well enough so far.”
Instinctively my eyes raise, appearing to challenge yet my intention only out of sincere curiosity, “what about you?”
B r i n e
@[tobiah]