05-21-2020, 10:01 PM
Hey all you cool cats and kittens
Her barbs fly more true than she intended, and even as the words left her lips, the dappled mare knew she should not have said them. Lepis is not her enemy, not in this, at least, and the teasing answers are not the sort a friend would offer. They are not friends, either, though, and each intrudes where she is not wanted.
The colt has grown quiet and she realizes that he is already sleeping, oblivious to the tension that vibrates between the mares, oblivious of what his existence means.
Neverwhere is less lucky. She is unprepared for the wash of emotion that hits her like a wave, crashing over her in a tide of anger, and she flinches against it. It builds noticeably in her face and the scar tissue there turns red and bright with it, but a choked undercurrent of pain pricks at her eyes. She has shed few tears in her life, but she knows what it is to cry. Except, she was not sad a moment ago, and she might have been annoyed, but she was not enraged, and she cannot reconcile the shift with what she knows to be truth. It dawns on her slowly.
“Gods, Lepis, is that you?” the red-faced mare hisses through gritted teeth against the weight of it, shaking her head as though to toss the feeling aside, but it grips at her heart with fierce talons and curls her lips into a snarl. Her hoof stamps into the red dirt, leaving a deep scar in the earth, while her body shakes with fury. To the artificial press of magic is an actual lick of anger at this unexpected use of emotional magic and it is with concerted effort that she keeps her voice as composed as possible.
“I know it means nothing, but I’m sorry.” She gestures vaguely with her muzzle as if to imply that she is sorry for everything that has brought them here, that she is sorry for the colt the sleeps between them, for the destruction of Lepis’ family which Neverwhere had been unable to prevent (it had not been her responsibility, nor had it been possible, it had not even truly been because of Lilliana, but she had tried.) And then, because she has no desire to linger over an apology that would not likely be accepted or wanted regardless of its sincerity, she moves on, eying the quality of light shining in around the other mare.
"I will be gone by midday. If he follows me, then that problem is solved, if he doesn’t,” she shrugs stiffly, the skin of her left shoulder twisting strangely around the tooth still embedded within, “you do what you have to do.”
It is not the anger that makes her cold. Once he has woken, she will be moving, and she has no intention of stopping again before she has left Loess, so he will keep up, or he will not.
The colt has grown quiet and she realizes that he is already sleeping, oblivious to the tension that vibrates between the mares, oblivious of what his existence means.
Neverwhere is less lucky. She is unprepared for the wash of emotion that hits her like a wave, crashing over her in a tide of anger, and she flinches against it. It builds noticeably in her face and the scar tissue there turns red and bright with it, but a choked undercurrent of pain pricks at her eyes. She has shed few tears in her life, but she knows what it is to cry. Except, she was not sad a moment ago, and she might have been annoyed, but she was not enraged, and she cannot reconcile the shift with what she knows to be truth. It dawns on her slowly.
“Gods, Lepis, is that you?” the red-faced mare hisses through gritted teeth against the weight of it, shaking her head as though to toss the feeling aside, but it grips at her heart with fierce talons and curls her lips into a snarl. Her hoof stamps into the red dirt, leaving a deep scar in the earth, while her body shakes with fury. To the artificial press of magic is an actual lick of anger at this unexpected use of emotional magic and it is with concerted effort that she keeps her voice as composed as possible.
“I know it means nothing, but I’m sorry.” She gestures vaguely with her muzzle as if to imply that she is sorry for everything that has brought them here, that she is sorry for the colt the sleeps between them, for the destruction of Lepis’ family which Neverwhere had been unable to prevent (it had not been her responsibility, nor had it been possible, it had not even truly been because of Lilliana, but she had tried.) And then, because she has no desire to linger over an apology that would not likely be accepted or wanted regardless of its sincerity, she moves on, eying the quality of light shining in around the other mare.
"I will be gone by midday. If he follows me, then that problem is solved, if he doesn’t,” she shrugs stiffly, the skin of her left shoulder twisting strangely around the tooth still embedded within, “you do what you have to do.”
It is not the anger that makes her cold. Once he has woken, she will be moving, and she has no intention of stopping again before she has left Loess, so he will keep up, or he will not.
That bitch, Neverwhere
@[Lepis]
