Violence had shaken him. She had shaken him until the memories had come free, and those which were not ready to fall, despite the shaking, she simply tore from the branches.
He had shaken for days, trembling with every kiss of the wind to his skin and the night sounds had caused his entrails to churn and fear to seep from his pores.
He had left the meadow. He had run for the river where Solace had taken care of him when he was a boy. She had held him in terrible months after his mother's death, while his face knitted itself back together with thick cords of scar tissue.
He had called out for the blue and gold pegasus at first; he had thought she would simply be right where he had left her. But no one had answered his call, and he had stopped calling before the night fell, as not to wake the shadows.
But weeks have passed now, and he is beginning you yearn for the golden open space of the meadow again. He is tired of being alone. He is tired of being sad, and there is no Solace to be found in the Riverlands.
"One more night," he whispers into his shelter of ferns, sinking to his belly as they sway closed above him like a damp, green trap door. "One more night like a mouse, and tomorrow I will be a stallion of the plains again."
@[bean] here take this big sad boy
He had shaken for days, trembling with every kiss of the wind to his skin and the night sounds had caused his entrails to churn and fear to seep from his pores.
He had left the meadow. He had run for the river where Solace had taken care of him when he was a boy. She had held him in terrible months after his mother's death, while his face knitted itself back together with thick cords of scar tissue.
He had called out for the blue and gold pegasus at first; he had thought she would simply be right where he had left her. But no one had answered his call, and he had stopped calling before the night fell, as not to wake the shadows.
But weeks have passed now, and he is beginning you yearn for the golden open space of the meadow again. He is tired of being alone. He is tired of being sad, and there is no Solace to be found in the Riverlands.
"One more night," he whispers into his shelter of ferns, sinking to his belly as they sway closed above him like a damp, green trap door. "One more night like a mouse, and tomorrow I will be a stallion of the plains again."
@[bean] here take this big sad boy
