My teeth ache. My jaw has been clenched and grinding and now it aches like thunder. I'd woken days ago only to leave mounds of hair curling among the drying weeds. My hair. My flaming, tangled locks, gone. My shrieks of rage had been ear splitting. Agonizing. A wordless, chest-splitting promise of violence.
It was anger like I hadn't felt in a long time, and those cussed fairies were to blame. I asked for the simple favor of my hair changing color, and they took it away entirely. It was an insult and a challenge and I am absolutely certain I will return the favor some day.
This was some time ago now. Days, maybe. So hard to tell when time loses all meaning. My greatest indication that any time has moved on at all is the mellowing of my wrath into a quietly burning ember of hate in my heart. It's easy to hate when you're cold. The sun is gone, and with it the heat I adore. My wings have been my only heat as I wander, too heartsick to go home yet.
The only bright side, I suppose, is that in the dark no one can see me like this. I am sulking, and I think it is near the river that I've made it to. The scene of many of my lowest moments. Staring into the dim, I can almost make out the edge of the bank. It is colder here, with the air moving over the running water, the damp earth beneath my feet.
A miserable location for a miserable mare. Rasping murmurs float across the current, drawing my eyes with listless interest. Familiar gleaming eyes reflect their own light, blink, and multiply. There may be a single creature watching, there may be half a dozen. I don't really care.
"What do you want," I growl absently, naked tail switching irritably. They are not fairies. Quite the opposite, I think. That does not change the fact that I'm in the mood for a fight and not above starting one if the opportunity arises.
@[Ashhal]
It was anger like I hadn't felt in a long time, and those cussed fairies were to blame. I asked for the simple favor of my hair changing color, and they took it away entirely. It was an insult and a challenge and I am absolutely certain I will return the favor some day.
This was some time ago now. Days, maybe. So hard to tell when time loses all meaning. My greatest indication that any time has moved on at all is the mellowing of my wrath into a quietly burning ember of hate in my heart. It's easy to hate when you're cold. The sun is gone, and with it the heat I adore. My wings have been my only heat as I wander, too heartsick to go home yet.
The only bright side, I suppose, is that in the dark no one can see me like this. I am sulking, and I think it is near the river that I've made it to. The scene of many of my lowest moments. Staring into the dim, I can almost make out the edge of the bank. It is colder here, with the air moving over the running water, the damp earth beneath my feet.
A miserable location for a miserable mare. Rasping murmurs float across the current, drawing my eyes with listless interest. Familiar gleaming eyes reflect their own light, blink, and multiply. There may be a single creature watching, there may be half a dozen. I don't really care.
"What do you want," I growl absently, naked tail switching irritably. They are not fairies. Quite the opposite, I think. That does not change the fact that I'm in the mood for a fight and not above starting one if the opportunity arises.
@[Ashhal]