through every collapse and creation,
there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.
For a while, she can’t even think. Can barely breath for all that she tries. Her life, until now, had been perfect. Idealistic and happy and simple. Cruelty had simply not existed. Or rather, it had existed, but she had not seen it. She had so happily worn her rose colored glasses, continuing on in joyful oblivion.
Only now does she realize what bliss it had been.
But she does not want to think about. She cannot think about, lest she shatter into a thousand pieces right there in the midst of the trees. In her heartbreak, she has no heed for her direction, no thought but that she must get away. That she must run, find what is left of her self and her dignity, before her very essence bleeds out before her eyes.
For a time, she feels almost empty, as though the world has no meaning (what meaning is there, when nothing is as you thought it was?). It is only as she breaks through the trees that she realizes she is not empty, but far too full. Her emotions had risen, expanding, pushing and pinching until the pain had given way to numbness. It is only when that bubble is ready to burst that she knows she is not empty at all.
A broken sob escapes her lips, her eyes squeezing shut as she fights the tears that cannot be held in check. Fights them until she realizes the futility, until she realizes the salty liquid is leaving tracks in the blue skin of her small, fine features anyway. Only then does she allow the sobs to come, burying her head in the lee of a tree to muffle the sound. She does not notice the rough bark of the tree against her tender skin, the scrape of a sharp edge when she moves too quickly, drawing a line of blood across the delicate bone of one cheek.
When finally she feels as though nothing more can possibly come, she breathes deeply, a heavy, hiccuping sigh that settles the quivering of her shoulders and halts the flow of tears from her eyes. After a moment, she turns and continues on. Continues until she stumbles almost unseeingly upon a river. It is only when the cool water touches her coronet that she realizes where she has come. For a moment, she simply stares at the water. Stares as though her reflection might peer back at her despite the churning of the chilly liquid.
Only after a long moment does it occur to her that she might use this opportunity to clean up. To wash the telltale signs of tears from her eyes and the stench of hellhound from her bluebell skin. Glancing up as she moves to step into the water, she catches sight of a face upon the water. A face whose body appears to be missing. “Oh,” is all she can think to say as shock rounds her eyes and freezes her small hoof only inches from the trembling water.
