Rapture
somewhere between the sand and the stardust
It hurts to feel this much, to know pain and suffering in the wake of kindness. It hurts to know the world is not what she had thought, not what she had expected. Perhaps it would be easier to feel nothing, to know little else but emptiness. The way that her heart squeezes now inside her chest cannot possibly be worse than the void of emotionlessness.
Alas, she is doomed to never know. Her sight might venture and seek and shift, but her heart would always be hers alone.
Never has it occurred to her though, that her small bit of meddling might anger him so. That he would prefer her face bloody and tear streaked, so much less than the delicate perfection it could be. But that is not what causes her wariness as he approaches, the way her head falls slightly, her shoulders hunching just a bit as though she is trying to hide from his advance. No, it is the memories that do that, the thought of cruel words and the striking thud of flesh against flesh. The bruises are not visible against the blue of her skin, but they are there, throbbing with memory as he comes closer.
She does not retreat though. Despite the mildness of her demeanor, the meekness of her words, there is bravery there. Deeply hidden, but bolstering her spine with steel. She is her mother’s daughter, after all. So she peers at him through her lashes, watching the way water sluices from the brown and white and black of his skin, the way his ears press against his crest, his eyes now blazing at her with fiery heat. She might be scared, but she is also curious. Faintly intrigued by the young stallion and his odd behavior.
Barely repressing the flinch, she holds herself still as he presses his lips unerringly to the small wound she hadn’t realized adorns her face. For a moment, she forgets to breath, a shudder passing along her spine as she presses her eyes closed. Her throat feel tight, the words stuck there until she abruptly draws in a sharp breath.
Swallowing, she opens her eyes again, peering at him with that pale blue gaze, notes of nervousness and curiosity and an innate warmth glittering there. Her mouth opens, closes, as she considers his words. The question that almost seems odd coming from him.
But he had asked her want she wants - such an easy question with an equally easy answer - so she puts shyness aside. He hadn’t moved away from her, and that is all the invitation she needs. Pressing closer, until blue nearly melds with bay, she places a hesitant touch against his neck, breathing in his warm scent heavily laden with the more earthy notes of the river. “I want a friend.” she finally replies, her voice nearly inaudible over the sounds of rushing water and the rustling of animals in the nearby trees.
there is a pulse that echoes of you and I
