06-20-2017, 11:40 PM
you won’t see me fall apart
It's not accurate to assume that the scar that marks the right side of her face is the reason for her personality, though some might assume. She does not react when their eyes slide off it - she's long since come to peace with it. It's the one part of her father left behind that means something to her, that's aided her.
lovely scar child
father was a map of scars, a constellation of them, they told stories like the illyad like homer like socrates about his past and his battles and they DEMANDED respect and he didn't need to be pretty so neither do i
She believes it, oh she believes it, that her looks (or lack thereof) are irrelevant. Neither parent was lovely, so she won't be either. Doesn't aspire to be.
No, she knows the distance that she creates between herself and every other living being is her own doing. Nothing about her face (scar aside) says "pull up a chair and tell me a story!" Nothing about her demeanor lends itself to deep conversation, to long drawn out talks about the weather. No, Thorunn is a stony bridge, an impossible thing. Yet the words don't stick like they usually do when the mare begins to turn to leave, she almost yells "Wait! Wait!" but he stops her, and for this she is glad.
Maybe a smile, maybe a ghost of a smile, but something near relief.
But why?
She lets the words tumble now, unafraid of her sudden nakedness. "I grew up under the shadow of my father, and I didn't know how to get out. So I found my own shadows, and realized that I'm not much one for darkness." It's the truth, isn't it?
"It's nice to meet you, Spear - Spark."
lovely scar child
father was a map of scars, a constellation of them, they told stories like the illyad like homer like socrates about his past and his battles and they DEMANDED respect and he didn't need to be pretty so neither do i
She believes it, oh she believes it, that her looks (or lack thereof) are irrelevant. Neither parent was lovely, so she won't be either. Doesn't aspire to be.
No, she knows the distance that she creates between herself and every other living being is her own doing. Nothing about her face (scar aside) says "pull up a chair and tell me a story!" Nothing about her demeanor lends itself to deep conversation, to long drawn out talks about the weather. No, Thorunn is a stony bridge, an impossible thing. Yet the words don't stick like they usually do when the mare begins to turn to leave, she almost yells "Wait! Wait!" but he stops her, and for this she is glad.
Maybe a smile, maybe a ghost of a smile, but something near relief.
But why?
She lets the words tumble now, unafraid of her sudden nakedness. "I grew up under the shadow of my father, and I didn't know how to get out. So I found my own shadows, and realized that I'm not much one for darkness." It's the truth, isn't it?
"It's nice to meet you, Spear - Spark."
THORUNN
COVET x LIBRETTE