I won't be what you want me to be Your picture perfect vanity I don't want to be your dirty pretty |
Slowly, and with very little of her usual cheeriness, the ivory faerie wandered into one of the common areas of Beqanna. A meadow of waist high grass encircled a shallow pond which under normal circumstances would have delighted her, but today it did nothing but make her heart ache. She had found a man she could trust, but he had another mare who was jealous of his attentions, and so quietly Illusen had left Orange Country behind. Perhaps here she could live out her days as a lone mare, so that she wouldn't encroach on someone else's pride. Making sure her mane once again hid the ugly scar upon the side of her neck, she slipped into the shadows of a lovely willow tree, the boughs encircling her and giving her the illusion of safety as she leaned against it's trunk. Delicate muzzle hung barely inches from the earth, ears flattened and disappearing into the frothy mass of her wavy mane. Dark eyes closed as she simply stood there and breathed in the scents of spring time, her heart cracked and ready to shatter into a million tiny shards. It seemed after her theft from her father's herd, nothing was ever meant to go right for the white mare. In two disastrous years she'd lost her sister, both of her parents, and all of her self respect. She had thought she had finally found a small piece of happiness going to Orange Country with Kreios, but that only lasted until she'd met Nymeria. Sighing heavily, she leaned against the tree more forcefully and simply stood there, doing nothing. More abuse from others wouldn't matter to her now, it wasn't as if she was not already broken. |
Mare 4 Hispano-Arabe 15.3 hands Gray (bay roan based)(Ee/Aa/Rr/Gg) No Lord, No Home, no young Sael |
Mirror mirror, you're so vain Would you sell yourself for fame? Are you the vulture, or are you the dove? |
Illusen |
Assailant -- Year 226
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Earthbound Faerie {Open}
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05-13-2015, 04:05 PM
05-14-2015, 03:45 PM
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