I wonder what she thinks of me, truly I do. I wonder if she looks at me with a bit of disgrace, her only son being what I am. I am a misfit in my own mind, oddly placed, a little uneven in how I act, but yet here I am the child of two very powerful minds. Perhaps with growth my odd behavior will begin to shape into some mega-man. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so insecure of my mother’s true feelings; maybe then I wouldn’t feel so damn naked beneath her gaze.
I watch as she lifts her head, and I realize how much I missed being within reach of her sweet scent. She is unrefined to others—intimidating to most—but to me she is a parent, a loving one at that, and I cannot say the same for the majority of Beqannian mares. Lagertha, a warrior, an amazon, my reliable source of life. And how have I repayed her? By a year of solitude.
“If by real world you mean something beyond monkeys and daffodils, then yes, maybe I am,” I lower my head to sniff the grass that is beneath me. I must say, a positive to being hidden in a place no one else travels is the grass that remains untrampled. Whereas here, underneath my black hooves and currently rolling between my mothers jaw is the grass that has seen many frog’s from the hooves, and dirt from well worked Amazonians.
My heart feels thick with pressure from things I don’t quite understand yet—if that makes sense to you at all. I am pressured with living up to her expectations even though I never really asked what those were. I am pressured to follow in my father’s footsteps even though I am not entirely sure how, or when. I am pressured to be a child worthy of comparison, a child they call their best, most productive and most motivated child. The one they say “well, he started off poorly, but he did evolve into such an amazing son,” regardless of my poor beginning.
I like to live within fantasy, this “real world” as she called it is slightly more displeasing.
“Not entirely sure where to start though, mom.” Is what I manage to squeak out finally, a little less confident and maybe more so intimidated. Such a big world I live in, and such little direction on where to go.
OOC: Yep, don't mind that at all
I watch as she lifts her head, and I realize how much I missed being within reach of her sweet scent. She is unrefined to others—intimidating to most—but to me she is a parent, a loving one at that, and I cannot say the same for the majority of Beqannian mares. Lagertha, a warrior, an amazon, my reliable source of life. And how have I repayed her? By a year of solitude.
“If by real world you mean something beyond monkeys and daffodils, then yes, maybe I am,” I lower my head to sniff the grass that is beneath me. I must say, a positive to being hidden in a place no one else travels is the grass that remains untrampled. Whereas here, underneath my black hooves and currently rolling between my mothers jaw is the grass that has seen many frog’s from the hooves, and dirt from well worked Amazonians.
My heart feels thick with pressure from things I don’t quite understand yet—if that makes sense to you at all. I am pressured with living up to her expectations even though I never really asked what those were. I am pressured to follow in my father’s footsteps even though I am not entirely sure how, or when. I am pressured to be a child worthy of comparison, a child they call their best, most productive and most motivated child. The one they say “well, he started off poorly, but he did evolve into such an amazing son,” regardless of my poor beginning.
I like to live within fantasy, this “real world” as she called it is slightly more displeasing.
“Not entirely sure where to start though, mom.” Is what I manage to squeak out finally, a little less confident and maybe more so intimidated. Such a big world I live in, and such little direction on where to go.
OOC: Yep, don't mind that at all