09-24-2016, 03:59 AM
Violence.
What a strange, fitting name he thinks. His name is not fitting - it means nothing. It is an act that is unknown to horses. It's a song that talks about soul, feelings, truth, depth - all things he lacks. He lacks them because of the fog, that rolling insurmountable presence that choked him for years. Even with it gone, even so far from his mother, he cannot help but turn to look over his shoulder for her. She should be there - gleaming yellow gold in the dry morning air.
She isn't.
It's just him and the mare with the horn.
Despite his (apparent) age his voice is...older. Cracked, corroded, like rusting pipes in the spring thaw - but older. Wrong for his frame but oddly fitting for his eyes. They're deeper than they should be, with all he's seen and experienced.
A shame, really.
"Surgery," he says like clanging pipes. And then, with a sudden wild hair - "Where's the border?"
How do you escape?
What a strange, fitting name he thinks. His name is not fitting - it means nothing. It is an act that is unknown to horses. It's a song that talks about soul, feelings, truth, depth - all things he lacks. He lacks them because of the fog, that rolling insurmountable presence that choked him for years. Even with it gone, even so far from his mother, he cannot help but turn to look over his shoulder for her. She should be there - gleaming yellow gold in the dry morning air.
She isn't.
It's just him and the mare with the horn.
Despite his (apparent) age his voice is...older. Cracked, corroded, like rusting pipes in the spring thaw - but older. Wrong for his frame but oddly fitting for his eyes. They're deeper than they should be, with all he's seen and experienced.
A shame, really.
"Surgery," he says like clanging pipes. And then, with a sudden wild hair - "Where's the border?"
How do you escape?