10-06-2016, 12:12 PM
If Briseis could read minds, she would challenge him that all wings and horns were imposters. It was all so incredibly strange to her, and this was without knowing that these kinds of things were fairly normal in this land she had washed ashore on. As far as she was concerned, the stallion in front of her was the only peculiar creature, and that was enough for her to be cautious. She was still holding her somewhat accusatory stare, though her muscles had loosened a little, having finally decided that he was most likely not dangerous. Despite the wings, his body language did not seem threatening.
His answer makes her jaw clench, her eyes narrowing a little. Since the shock of seeing wings had finally worn off she had noticed her poor choice in words, but that didn’t mean she liked having it pointed out to her. Briseis was young, only three years old, and like most adolescents she was not immune to having a bit of an attitude, although she mainly kept it in check. She was not a cruel creature, and her mother had always taught her to be respectful and hold her tongue.
Her head tilts when he says ‘aren’t the way they’re supposed to be’, and hesitantly she says, ”What do you mean? And how are you a pegasus? Those aren’t even real.” He was clearly real, standing directly in front of her. She can smell him, she can tell from the fairly short space between them that if she were to reach out and touch him that he would be solid, made of muscle and blood and bone, just like she was. But still, mythical creatures were not real. They just weren’t.
If possible she would have lifted an eyebrow when he offered his name, because “mortal” did not seem fitting for him. She was mortal. She was plain, she was only four legs and mane and tail, simple black, and dark brown eyes. Nothing special, and it had never occurred to her that there was anything other than what she was. ”Briseis”, she says, ”My name is Briseis. And I guess I’m lost. I am not from here, wherever ‘here’ is. The ocean spit me here.” And just when she thinks he cannot possibly get anymore bizarre or confusing, he starts spouting off something about a mountain. ”I don’t know what you mean by before the Mountain. Were mountains not present here before?” She gestures to the path she had just come from, for from that shoreline she had been able to see a mountain range. It didn’t look particularly strange to her, but obviously she was wrong.
His answer makes her jaw clench, her eyes narrowing a little. Since the shock of seeing wings had finally worn off she had noticed her poor choice in words, but that didn’t mean she liked having it pointed out to her. Briseis was young, only three years old, and like most adolescents she was not immune to having a bit of an attitude, although she mainly kept it in check. She was not a cruel creature, and her mother had always taught her to be respectful and hold her tongue.
Her head tilts when he says ‘aren’t the way they’re supposed to be’, and hesitantly she says, ”What do you mean? And how are you a pegasus? Those aren’t even real.” He was clearly real, standing directly in front of her. She can smell him, she can tell from the fairly short space between them that if she were to reach out and touch him that he would be solid, made of muscle and blood and bone, just like she was. But still, mythical creatures were not real. They just weren’t.
If possible she would have lifted an eyebrow when he offered his name, because “mortal” did not seem fitting for him. She was mortal. She was plain, she was only four legs and mane and tail, simple black, and dark brown eyes. Nothing special, and it had never occurred to her that there was anything other than what she was. ”Briseis”, she says, ”My name is Briseis. And I guess I’m lost. I am not from here, wherever ‘here’ is. The ocean spit me here.” And just when she thinks he cannot possibly get anymore bizarre or confusing, he starts spouting off something about a mountain. ”I don’t know what you mean by before the Mountain. Were mountains not present here before?” She gestures to the path she had just come from, for from that shoreline she had been able to see a mountain range. It didn’t look particularly strange to her, but obviously she was wrong.
briseis.
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece