06-30-2015, 03:47 AM
There is a sickly sweetness about this mare, she is a walking daydream, dressed in frilly lace and beautiful silk. She has eyes as large and as imposing as the sky itself, and I find it unnerving. She does not falter as I step nearer, my shadowy form a grotesque stain upon the earth, she does not wander from her saccharine words and that smile... It tugs at the core of me, pulls unbearingly at the memory innards. A growl comes from the deep recesses of my chest.
'You have a place in this world. Lead Mare of Gemstone Ridge.' My voice is almost mocking, yet not. Smooth and dark like the throes of black magic. My obsidian orbs settle on her blossomed abdomen. Life grows. Life grows, and yet is taken in a heartbeat. And it's that delicious heartbeat that entices me nearer. 'You were put on a pedestal... Those pedestals can easily topple.' My voice, dark, foreboding, it fills the atmosphere with the creepiness of a moonless night, the sinister tellings of an imposing Storm.
She is all talk, this girl. Sweet words and blinded eyes. I lick my lips, wetting dry and cracked skin with even drier Crimson. I stalk closer, so near now I can feel her resounding heartbeat. I step even closer, my towering frame a shadow of pale form. I extend my muzzle, course velvet against soft skin. I reach out to touch her abdomen, to feel re squirming life. To feel what I had never felt, but longed for all the same. I was burdened early in my life, yet never got to reap what had been sown. The small little black colt had been nothing but dead skin and failing organs. My ebony plume swats my hinds deliciously sharp. 'Oh, precious possession indeed...' I breathe them in, both her and the swell of the child. 'Do you feel the blossoming love, burden you already?' I question and my eyes glaze over, the sharp memory digging with harsh probing fingers into the depths of my dead heart. 'What would happen if that was ripped from you, your precious little possession? And you, broken, left with nothing.' My tone is cold, bitter like winters wind, harsh like the splintered Rock ledge below.
I stand then, tall and proud, dark eyes rimmed with a sparkle of something, something quite dark and sinister. 'Daydreams often turn to nightmares, precious. And I tread those sinister worlds with sure feet.' I reach out again, ivories grinning in a strange sort of fashion. Cigs and wheels achingly squeak in the forefront of my mind.
'Some days, it's better to stay in the safety of your home.' A promise, s threat, I wasn't sure. But the ringing in my ears, the pounding of my deadened heart matching the lovely, lively crescendo of the pale mare, that is all I hear.
'You have a place in this world. Lead Mare of Gemstone Ridge.' My voice is almost mocking, yet not. Smooth and dark like the throes of black magic. My obsidian orbs settle on her blossomed abdomen. Life grows. Life grows, and yet is taken in a heartbeat. And it's that delicious heartbeat that entices me nearer. 'You were put on a pedestal... Those pedestals can easily topple.' My voice, dark, foreboding, it fills the atmosphere with the creepiness of a moonless night, the sinister tellings of an imposing Storm.
She is all talk, this girl. Sweet words and blinded eyes. I lick my lips, wetting dry and cracked skin with even drier Crimson. I stalk closer, so near now I can feel her resounding heartbeat. I step even closer, my towering frame a shadow of pale form. I extend my muzzle, course velvet against soft skin. I reach out to touch her abdomen, to feel re squirming life. To feel what I had never felt, but longed for all the same. I was burdened early in my life, yet never got to reap what had been sown. The small little black colt had been nothing but dead skin and failing organs. My ebony plume swats my hinds deliciously sharp. 'Oh, precious possession indeed...' I breathe them in, both her and the swell of the child. 'Do you feel the blossoming love, burden you already?' I question and my eyes glaze over, the sharp memory digging with harsh probing fingers into the depths of my dead heart. 'What would happen if that was ripped from you, your precious little possession? And you, broken, left with nothing.' My tone is cold, bitter like winters wind, harsh like the splintered Rock ledge below.
I stand then, tall and proud, dark eyes rimmed with a sparkle of something, something quite dark and sinister. 'Daydreams often turn to nightmares, precious. And I tread those sinister worlds with sure feet.' I reach out again, ivories grinning in a strange sort of fashion. Cigs and wheels achingly squeak in the forefront of my mind.
'Some days, it's better to stay in the safety of your home.' A promise, s threat, I wasn't sure. But the ringing in my ears, the pounding of my deadened heart matching the lovely, lively crescendo of the pale mare, that is all I hear.