11-03-2016, 03:06 PM
just because it's happening inside your head
doesn't mean it isn't real
How many years have passed? How did she fall asleep for so long? It hurts. It hurts so much. To her disappointment, she finds she's not the only one trapped in a web of despair. At least he understands why he feels that way, to her everything is just a car-crash, a mixture of anxiety and confusion interwoven to fix her in her current state. The whites of her eyes hint at the edges, the mask of composure, the calm of an immortal Queen all but gone.
He explains about the magic and she feels it again, the lack of warmth on her skin, her bond with the sunlight torn asunder. It feels stupid now, thinking back. At the very beginning, as little more than a yearling filly she'd met a horse with wings. She'd fixated upon the idea, the idea that she could be more than a mere mortal, more than her mother and her siblings. She could be special. Turns out, being special wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Just because you can bend an element to your will, just because you can live forever, - hell, even possessing magic, it doesn't solve the everyday problems she tried to escape. It doesn't make love, it doesn't feel family, it doesn't stop hurt and pain. She knows that now, a lesson only age and experience can accommodate.
“I haven't been able to feel the sun since I woke up... it would caress me, bend to my figure, dance to my will. It doesn't feel me any-more and I don't feel it. I feel like only half of myself,” she sighs, speaking out loud, not specifically to the stallion beside her.
What a pair we must make, all sadness and gloom – and we've only just met. She ponder to herself, shaking her head in some sort of futile effort to lift the heavy, darker thoughts. She knows it won't work, but it's worth trying, right?
“Everything...” she repeats. It feels distasteful, like the sting of iron on your tongue when you bleed into your mouth. If only she could spit the blood out and that would make it better. It takes a moment for her to digest the magnitude of his revelation. “I... I was Queen of the Deserts. Before that, I was raised in the Falls. Where do I go now?” she asks, hearing the pain and anguish in her own voice shocks her. She sounds childlike, so far from the calm, assured Queen she knew herself to be. She doesn't know this stallion, not from Adam - why on earth would he know where she should go? But she can't think. It hurts to think.
He explains about the magic and she feels it again, the lack of warmth on her skin, her bond with the sunlight torn asunder. It feels stupid now, thinking back. At the very beginning, as little more than a yearling filly she'd met a horse with wings. She'd fixated upon the idea, the idea that she could be more than a mere mortal, more than her mother and her siblings. She could be special. Turns out, being special wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Just because you can bend an element to your will, just because you can live forever, - hell, even possessing magic, it doesn't solve the everyday problems she tried to escape. It doesn't make love, it doesn't feel family, it doesn't stop hurt and pain. She knows that now, a lesson only age and experience can accommodate.
“I haven't been able to feel the sun since I woke up... it would caress me, bend to my figure, dance to my will. It doesn't feel me any-more and I don't feel it. I feel like only half of myself,” she sighs, speaking out loud, not specifically to the stallion beside her.
What a pair we must make, all sadness and gloom – and we've only just met. She ponder to herself, shaking her head in some sort of futile effort to lift the heavy, darker thoughts. She knows it won't work, but it's worth trying, right?
“Everything...” she repeats. It feels distasteful, like the sting of iron on your tongue when you bleed into your mouth. If only she could spit the blood out and that would make it better. It takes a moment for her to digest the magnitude of his revelation. “I... I was Queen of the Deserts. Before that, I was raised in the Falls. Where do I go now?” she asks, hearing the pain and anguish in her own voice shocks her. She sounds childlike, so far from the calm, assured Queen she knew herself to be. She doesn't know this stallion, not from Adam - why on earth would he know where she should go? But she can't think. It hurts to think.
Pevensie
mirror my soul