[open] FLASH. Give me a voice. [Any]

[Scyla]

I'm an invisible monster, and I'm incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse. The grass was nearly tasteless in her mouth, gone was the sweetness of spring or the fullness of summer. Now in the fall, things began to slow down and die off for their yearly slumber. Scylla was ready for the changing of the guard and marveled at the brilliant yellows, and the glow of the burnt reds as the leaves danced down to the ground. The trees no longer looked like they were dancing with the skies, but rather like gnarled fingers warning of the harsh white that was to come. The invisible monster wandered aimlessly, unphased by the fact that she hadn't found Dahmer yet, or that she was utterly alone. She almost preferred it this way. No one to throw a hoof your way or threaten you. But she was an equine after all, and there was that instinctive need to be around those her own species for safety was rooted in her DNA. Still, the monster knew that there was no safety in numbers. She was not that naive. She never been that naive. She raised her head from grazing, the feathered wings at her side adjusted and settled folded at her sides once again. Her tail lazily swished at the few flies that were so desperate to stay alive for just a few more weeks. There were clusters of horses here and there and honestly, Scylla wondered just exactly how this would all play out. Would she find more like herself? Broken china dolls glued back together by spit, chewed gum and clay? Would she find more like the demons of her past? Would she find love? Would she recognize love? Love felt like teeth against her neck, harsh words in her ears and hooves to the belly. The invisible monster decided why not wander around and see who had the power to see her. Or perhaps she would find someone from a past life? The world was hers once again to do with it what she wished. Maybe she would finally figure out where she was and be better at figuring out where she belonged. She approached a stranger, and her voice called out, "Hey, where am I?" Always to the point without the frills of courtier talk. She was no lady. She was a wolf in sheeps' clothing desperately looking for the pack that always seemed to leave her alone.