there's a song in your lung
and a dream in your eye
She remembers it well. She had never experienced true agony before that day. She had no concept of hell before that moment. And now, she knows. She knows all too well. The outer reaches of the cosmos would forever be etched in her mind, just as the scars of her breaking will forever be etched on her skin. It is not something she cares to dwell on. Not anymore. For months nothing else had occupied her mind. It had made what, in reality, where only minutes of torture into an eternity of torment. No, she certainly does not care to dwell.
But this mare, she brings it all back. With a few simple words, she brings it back. She remembers the deep, numbing pain that had filled her in moments. Remembers the sharp, jagged torment of her entire body shattering. Remembers the beautiful, merciful blackness that had overtaken her. But it had not been over, even then. He had brought her back, piecing her body back together in searing agony. This is the last thing she wishes to remember, and this woman reminds her.
She is confused by her words at first. What is she talking about? She does not know who He is. Her brilliant gaze shows her confusion. But then it is clear. He hadn’t fixed her. There is only one possible meaning, one possible He.
She stills first, shocked. How could this stranger possibly know? But then the memories surface. The terrible memories that she thought she had suppressed so well. The cracks crisscrossing her skin begin to flicker madly with her internal light, the brightness flaring in sudden bursts. Such a beautiful, dangerous light.
Her golden eyes harden, shimmering metal bright. She doesn’t retreat though. She never retreats (and perhaps that is her fatal flaw). Instead she steps closer, coming nearly muzzle to muzzle with the beautiful silver mare.
What makes you think I did anything wrong? she asks softly, her tone belying her glittering gaze.
joscelin