08-16-2015, 08:24 PM
Saige Ceol
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
Saige's hooves were desperately seeking rest, not from the short journey, yet from the run from her herd. She hadn't stopped, not once since she had entered Helovia. Her body was still aching, her wounds were still attempting to dry, yet with each and every step, the cuts peeled open once again, stretching against their will. She kept her head close to the ground in fear of what she would see, her eyes only darting up to find where she should go, where she should follow him. She froze as he stopped as well, dipping his head into the stream. Her mouth was dry. So very dry. She ached to bathe within the stream, to drink as much as possible, yet she was afraid what he would say so she stayed still as he spoke. She physically winced, her hooves stepping back as if his words had barreled into her. Master? When she had hoped for a new herd, she never expected something quite like this. Quite like her old herd.
What did you expect, little bird? You were never built for a social hierarchy; more like a dictatorship.
The cackles boomed throughout her head and instantly she kicked, her feet flying, not even caring if her new master saw. She couldn't take this. She couldn't take any of this, yet she composed herself. Her eyes closed tightly, her breathing steadied and she glanced back up at Gryffen as he continued to speak, following him in fear of displeasing him. She didn't want to be on his bad side. She wouldn't be thrown to the wolf just yet, not when she had finally given her life some thought. Her body was sore, yet she continued to walk slightly behind him, refusing to step up near him. She had already felt the wrath of his teeth; she wouldn't take it once again.
Do you hear that, dearie? You've brought yourself within a cage. This one is on you.
The voices were right. One again, they were right, and she hated herself for that. Her lips moved in silent words, her mane shook in agitation before she shuffling forward, intending to please him. I shall be in his favor. She glanced at his frame, her eyes gathering the beady red eyes. She wasn't built for strength. She was built to run, yet she knew that wouldn't be the wisest choice when her coat was bloodied and her body was aching from her last run. So she muttered her name softly at first, only to realize she hadn't truly spoken it. She summed up courage before taking a deep breath and looking toward the ground once more for the first time she would speak to the stallion who had forced his way into her life.
"My name is Saige." Her voice was a mere whisper upon the wind, swallowed entirely by the mountains, yet she refused to speak again. Once was enough in the presence of the stallion. He hadn't asked for anything else, so she wasn't going to be the one to anger him.
That's right, little bird. Be a good mare.
---
The Voices. - Thoughts. - Speech.
What did you expect, little bird? You were never built for a social hierarchy; more like a dictatorship.
The cackles boomed throughout her head and instantly she kicked, her feet flying, not even caring if her new master saw. She couldn't take this. She couldn't take any of this, yet she composed herself. Her eyes closed tightly, her breathing steadied and she glanced back up at Gryffen as he continued to speak, following him in fear of displeasing him. She didn't want to be on his bad side. She wouldn't be thrown to the wolf just yet, not when she had finally given her life some thought. Her body was sore, yet she continued to walk slightly behind him, refusing to step up near him. She had already felt the wrath of his teeth; she wouldn't take it once again.
Do you hear that, dearie? You've brought yourself within a cage. This one is on you.
The voices were right. One again, they were right, and she hated herself for that. Her lips moved in silent words, her mane shook in agitation before she shuffling forward, intending to please him. I shall be in his favor. She glanced at his frame, her eyes gathering the beady red eyes. She wasn't built for strength. She was built to run, yet she knew that wouldn't be the wisest choice when her coat was bloodied and her body was aching from her last run. So she muttered her name softly at first, only to realize she hadn't truly spoken it. She summed up courage before taking a deep breath and looking toward the ground once more for the first time she would speak to the stallion who had forced his way into her life.
"My name is Saige." Her voice was a mere whisper upon the wind, swallowed entirely by the mountains, yet she refused to speak again. Once was enough in the presence of the stallion. He hadn't asked for anything else, so she wasn't going to be the one to anger him.
That's right, little bird. Be a good mare.
---
The Voices. - Thoughts. - Speech.