"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
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
For the first time in his young immortal life, Ob was at a crossroads.
When he had awoken, he had been certain it was all a dream. Just another bad trip, another overly vivid hallucination from one too many red-petaled flowers. Except the nauseating smell of blood and shit and roasted crab lingered in his nostrils. Because he could see the smoke fading around him. Because a smattering of golden stars were now burned along his pristine chest. A reminder of the last thing he had seen before he had been glitched back into the reality of which he belonged.
He stood on the cliff by the sea and he thought. Retreating slowly into himself as he brooded over the brackish waves. His mood as dark as the monsoons of summer. Everything in that world had been real. As real as he was. As real as the thing slithering in the darkest parts of him. That dragon, all those deaths… the fire snake. All of it. He understands now. He understands. That thing he can’t control inside of him, that thing that is a part of him but not. It will consume him. Like he had once warned his niece, it would consume him and then consume the world. It started with flares of emotion, emotions that even he cannot deny any longer. It would surpass that, not even needing an emotion to spark its ascent. Until he would become lost inside it, the mind of a hungry senseless beast taking over everything that he was.
It wasn’t a matter of soon, it was only a matter of when.
It is his turn to avoid his partner, his deviously deceptive Seneschal, to stay out of reach of what she might sense in him and manipulate in turn. The ghost of the Pampas avoids him in turn, when he thinks he might seek her out. But it’s all just a distraction, a procrastination. To figure out what he was going to do about it. And he can’t. He can’t find the answer. So he turns back to an old favorite, sinks into the farthest state of inebriation he can reach and still be standing. It’s all he knows, after all. And he wanders.
He wanders from the idyllic wildflower fields and explores regions he hasn’t seen before with only Light as his companion. He wanders back to old haunts and faces even older ghosts. He almost steps into Tephra, into his birth-land, and then thinks better of it. Finally he finds himself in a familiar place. What had been home long before he claimed the Pampas.
Where he had first met her.
It always comes back to her. That annoyingly grating tone of her voice, the pretentious jeweled princess of the South, taken under the Queen’s own wing. Pampered and precocious, as always. She was everything that he hated in others, everything he hated about himself. And yet he can never get too far from her image, of that memory when she had once been pressed against his chest. The kiss that he still thinks of even after the most satisfying of nights with Aela.
Her silence is deafening and he cannot forget.
Perhaps she had cursed him that day in the Meadow. Yes, he must be bewitched. When he had seemed to be summoned by a storm and she was there with doe eyes and a heart that seemed to open entirely before him. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand a lie. She was so easy to pierce with a few simple words. It was so easy to make her hate him. Too easy. It was for the best after all. That’s what he still told himself, even now. To keep everyone out and just in arms reach. Not too close. Especially not an open heart like hers.
He had told her something once, here where he is standing. A truth amongst his lies in that night they had sheltered from the storm.
(“Fae do not control death.” He states, just loud enough to be heard over the continued crashing above them. “They tell riddles, they trick unsuspecting ignorant horses, they play with magic as if it’s nothing but they do not control the whims of death.” He pauses, continuing to keep his gaze elsewhere. “Fae cannot lie. Ask them if you don’t believe me.”)
He broods, a dark figure in the lush open hills with a small glowing orb hovering above his head, and he wonders. And the thing inside of him stills and waits.
She remembered going to look for Targaryen six months ago.
Turned out he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Cheri had teleported herself to the River (purely by accident, and that had led to a few other discoveries afterward) early on into her search, and that was the closest she’d ever felt to him. Since then her journey had turned into more of an adventure.
When she was a foal, Cheri had always dreamed of living her life that way. Nomadic, hard to pin down to any one place or thing, always flying away when she felt close to being tethered, the hero of her own storyline. These past six months had been fulfilling in that way, providing her with a sense of accomplishment while the duties of Loess waited ever patiently for her return…
So she gave up the search and returned in due time; not exactly the same mare who’d walked into the woods those many months ago.
From where he stood in the Meadow, Obscene would be able to lift his proud head and spy a thundercloud. It hung patiently in the distance, casting shade over everything living or inanimate beneath it. Certainly it appeared dangerous - it sat like a dreamer’s ship on the horizon of an otherwise blue and happy ocean of sky - but no rain fell out from the bottom of its bulbous underside and no sound of pealing thunder rang out as a warning. It simply rolled from the distance to the forefront, ominous and quiet.
Until light sparkled in its depths. Heat lighting, soft and quiet as a cat on the prowl, arced through the imaginably soft pillows of mist with a noticeably green tinge. Upon inspection one might narrow their eyes and see something coming in and out of focus at the center of the activity, but unless they knew her a horse might misplace Cheri as just some mythical lightning bird. There seemed to be plenty of those around, among other impossible things.
The thundercloud - Cheri’s own creation - dissipated quickly. It couldn’t stand up to the elation she felt while trying to conjure it, and so the mist and green static evaporated away to leave her bathed in the weak light of an afternoon sun. Ten minutes total, maybe. That’s how long the false thundercloud had lasted. Ten minutes of weak control, but for all that it was obvious Cheri was totally and completely elated with herself for it. She was a madwoman up above, whirling in tight spirals with her wings of vibrant green light tucked close beside her, dipping backwards into a dive when her eyes were clearly closed. She looked peaceful in the midst of chaos, plummeting down from the sky like some midday star.
Her landing garnered a few appreciative whinnies from a clustered group of aviad-equines who’d stood by watching, so she gave them a dip of her head and then meandered closer to chat with them. Their voices mingled incoherently for a minute or two while the Meadow quickly forgot the display and just when it felt like she would never notice him, Cheri’s mouth closed and her sly, lovely head turned sideways to pick him out where he stood. Across the gently sloping hills she met Obscene’s gaze. She smiled, hoping it would surprise him, and then she left the band of other pegasus to their conversation so that she might intercept him before he got any other ideas.
08-02-2021, 05:17 PM (This post was last modified: 08-02-2021, 05:18 PM by Obscene.)
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
He smells the rainclouds on the horizon and lifts his proud head, bleary red eyes finding her amongst the dark ominous clouds. Smells her storm scent and smirks that smug smile of his. Others might be mistaken by what’s flashing in the smoke she pulls around herself but he has always watched the storms and thought of her. Thinks of her too often that it can only be her that he sees. It’s the one secret he has kept to himself, why he often enjoyed watching them off the coast of the Pampas. As he has always done, as he always will.
She is as privileged and attention seeking as always, he thinks. Oceane did her no favors by elevating her so high, he tells himself. The flare of his familiar hatred spreads around him, casting even more dark scales along his backside. And yet he can’t help that small twinge of relief in his gut. That after six long months she was still around. That the thing in Hyaline hadn’t gotten its claws in her.
That she was here of all places.
The clouds roll away and she makes a huge spectacle of herself as she whirls in the air and lands, much to the delight of others. He keeps his mask of indifference, that smugness only deepening as she flutters her wings and acts as if she hasn’t seen him. He simply watches and waits as she joins a small group of winged horses. When she finally looks at him, looks at him and smiles, his own expression smoothes into blank nothingness. As the realization of her coming towards him makes the snake within him writhe with new ferocity. “Queen Cheri.” He drawls, slurs really, as she comes closer. And takes a step backward, as if to keep her at a distance. “If you expect me to bow you’ll be sorely disappointed.” He finds his smirk again but something flashes in the depths of red that turn from a bright hue to something darker. Something uncertain and feral and wild.
A biting remark comes to mind, something to do with Prayers, but instead of saying it…He swallows it down. She is beautiful and striking and all the things she has always been, all the things that infuriate him and drive him mad. And despite all that, all those things that make him hate her, he looks at her and sees himself wrapping around her neck until the light dies in those beautiful eyes and he takes another step back as he submerges once more beneath the dark mood of his brooding.
He was a monster, just as she had always thought he was.
She had known it long before he had.
And now that he was face to face with her again, despite the strange longing to know she was alive, he finds he can’t bare to look at her, as if merely his stare might be enough to end her life. “Get away from me Cheri.” He finally says and takes another step back, stumbles slightly, keeping his gaze on the group of horses she had just left as the scales swarm over his body, feeding off the intensity of the emotions he can no longer pretend he doesn’t have.
She’s certainly not a minder reader (not yet, anyways) but the six months she put between herself and the Prince of the Pampas did very little to erase the coy micro-expressions Cheri remembered. For someone who claimed to care very little about any one such thing, he certainly had a way about him when it came to open disgust. Obscene had always been that way to her though: contradictory. One minute scathing and the next laughing, spitting at her hooves but then warning her to get away - to leave him before something terrible really did happen.
She’d loathed him for so long it hardly seemed possible that she could tap into the things she admired about him, but since her commune with Reave in Nerine Cheri had been shocked at her own ability to see the clarity and connection between his two opposing natures.
Still, she’s happy to see that he seemed perfectly content to act the same way he always had whenever she’d come onto the scene. It was almost comforting. He managed to get a single, genuine laugh out of her and for a moment the air between them is filled with the sound of her unique and pretty voice, not tension or bitter resentment, but the moment passes as all must. To his credit Cheri waited, fully expecting another retort on the heels of the first, and her eyes - those gleaming, intricate green eyes that would lose a special spark if the light in them were to ever burn out - hold his own red, simmering ones.
The change in his demeanor does not go unchecked. Not this time.
She heeds it by keeping her distance, allowing him the space he desired even if it caused him to lose a step and fumble, but otherwise the threat washes over her without much consideration. Cheri looked down the instant light played over his skin, noticing how his svelte fur shifted and changed into scales. They reminded her of that day in the forest when she’d come across him belittling another mare. “So we’re doing this again?” She thought.
“No.” The appaloosa with vibrant green hair declared softly. “No, I don’t think so. Not today.”
He - Obscene - had told her once to make the hard decision, and even if that Obscene had not been entirely her Obscene, she’d realized then (just as much as she realized now) that she would prefer things to be that way. So she was doing exactly what he might someday ask her to do, even if that made very little to no sense at all.
“Obscene we need to talk.” Cheri took a step closer now, reaching for him. “Please...” She begged him without shame or regret, knowing it might be the one thing to keep him still for just a moment longer. Just a moment longer and then she could touch him for the first time in nearly a year, no games or gimmicks attached. Just touch him and keep him here, make him listen for a while before everything spun out of their control again.
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
He doesn’t remember what had happened that day by the River. He never does when he changes. Washes of color, sounds, and smell will come over him but he never understands their placement or what they mean. Sometimes he is violently sick, as if the things he had consumed as the snake don’t agree with his equine stomach. Sometimes nothing happens at all. That day after the river had been like a hangover, like the snake had pushed past even its own limits that time. He doesn’t want a repeat of it.
He doesn’t want to harm her despite how much he hates her.
She seems intent on pushing him there.
No. She says and he hisses. She stands her ground and he feels a thrill of anticipation. If this had happened a year ago he would have thrived on it, would have taken it as an invitation for cruel banter, would have jumped on the opportunity. But things had changed. They had both changed, it seemed. She presses him, insists they need to talk and he snorts in disbelief. What could they possibly have to talk about? The scales shimmer as they take hold, his eyes contract and narrow, and he’s about to tell her to fuck off in an even less friendly way when she reaches for him.
Her muzzle finds its way to rest on the slickness beneath the long ribboned threads of his gold and black mane and he shudders. And stills beneath her touch as the scales seem to snap back beneath the fur and the snake stops moving. The look of surprise he gives her is real and probably the most honest expression he’s ever given her this far.
Obscene had come to have many epiphanies in the last few days and it seems he’s about to have another one. One that would settle just as badly as the others. Something in him had hated Cheri when he had been mortal, had hated most if not all things in a world that had not exactly been kind to him. He had thought the snake was simply a cunning joke when he had become Fae, a trick as faeries liked to do. A price he had to pay. But now he understands. He truly understands what exactly the serpent was. It was a part of himself that had morphed into something else. Something hungry and dark and angry all the time. Something that wanted to crush the world entirerly. The serpent hated Cheri… and feared her.
And when it comes down to it… he didn’t really hate Cheri as much as he thought he had.
Not anymore.
For a moment he simply breathes her in, so close to him, as his crimson pupils dilate and become normal again. Perhaps it was her magic that had somehow charmed the creature within him and he feels the flare of anger again, sick of all the powers that were constantly being pressed on and inside him. His feelings regarding the green and onyx mare before him become a tangled web of confusion (mixed with the sudden surge of guilt he feels regarding the golden mare back home) and so he falls back into what he knows best, clutching to the belief that as long as she hated him, she would at least be safe from him.
“You always have to be so infuriatingly perfect don’t you? Always have to fling your magic at me.” He sneers at her, a flicker of something strange in the depths of red. “You may have been handed a kingdom and you may think you deserve to be Queen but I’ll warn you of this, just once. This world is a bitter place and the sooner you recognize it the better off you’ll be. You called me a monster once but you’ll soon come to find that true monsters are all around you and they’re wearing the faces of those you love most. They are waiting Cheri, waiting for you to fuck up so they can benefit from it.” An old wound begins festering as he remembers the way Offsprings shoulders always seemed to sag and the sadness that had always lingered in the gold of his dam’s eyes despite the smile on her face.
And then there’s the Curse in Hyaline. Was she ready for that? To have her chest ripped and that open heart eaten? He doubts it. He thinks of the starry mare and her broken legs but its Cheri’s face the mare wears now and he is suddenly overwhelmed by all it. “Damn it Cheri.” He snarls and turns his face from her, rage in his eyes but it’s not directed at her. Not this time.
Not once in all of that does he realize that he hasn’t moved away from her touch.
Obscene was a pure distraction where Cheri was concerned. She knew well enough by now how he seemed to draw her attention whenever they were around one another. In the beginning that acrid attraction drew them together, and she’d danced along those electric lines of fate right up until she’d got her ass burnt for doing so. Any sane mare with a sense of self-preservation and pride would’ve let the feelings she had about him die where they lay, wishing the next one to come along better luck than she.
Cheri though… she hears him hiss and bites her lip instead, surprised by the thrill of excited fear pulsing in her chest. Experience could change her physically, mentally, but some things about Cheri just seemed impossible to break.
“Better luck in my next life, then.” She wishes for her future self, able to make contact with his skin by way of her nose. Obscene reacted as she hoped he might: the black Fae stallion calmed. She hadn’t used her healing, hadn’t thought about changing the weather in order to keep him in the Meadow (however, now that she was thinking about it that didn’t seem like such a bad idea for a last resort option.) All she’d done was connect them physically.
Obscene feels otherwise.
She doesn’t blame him. He must’ve passed the seasons in the company of horses who liked to play their little games, as most did. In fact he sounded rather paranoid - for himself or for her she can’t decide. Just what had happened to the Prince of the Pampas in her absence, she wonders? Who could possibly have hurt or confused him more than he already seemed to be? His warning, nay threat of her impending doom furrows Cheri’s naturally smooth and attractive brow.
“...You’re right.” Cheri capitulated, her voice soft but firm. “Partially.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “But I know you’re right, for the most part. I can be foolish - anyone can. I can be too trusting. The world is full of monsters and bitterness.”
Where to begin? This felt like the best way, giving in to him in order to have him listen
“But if you think that’s going to stop me from doing better, from gaining more, then perhaps you - and nearly everyone else - highly underestimate me.” Cheri's smile hovered just above his shoulder, where the golden specks of fae markings sparkled over Obscene’s skin with bright flashes of twinkling light. She was implying that she didn’t mind being counted out, maybe she even preferred it that way. In the end Oceane had given her one-half of the crown and Cheri had gotten more than she’d ever wanted… except for one thing.
“I am sick and tired of doing this with you though. I know that much.” Cheri’s face lifted so that she could peer up at him from among the wry tangle of her green forelock. “Aren’t you?”
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
When he had told her that he was undone by her, he had meant it even though he had been able to lie. He had recognized it the moment he had laid eyes on her, that she could destroy him in ways that no other could. Just as his father had done when he had disappeared and left his mother. He had long ago thought having a hard heart, one made of unyielding rock, would protect him from such things. That the more he could make himself not care, the less hurt he could become. Then when he had felt the fire of his hatred, he had found that more comforting and wrapped himself in the flames of their bickering which was warmer than the cold bite of the protective armor he had made with his words. He hadn't expected that neglected thing in his chest to actually feel anything for anyone. But it had. It cared for Aela, despite whatever resentment he held towards her, and had loved her. As a friend and then some but he knew he would never hold the place in her heart that his Champion did. It cared for Revelrie and Skandar and Wherewolf and whatever other band of misfits had ended up amongst the wildflowers. That's what the Pampas had really become, a court for those that didn't really belong anywhere else. Misunderstood, dangerous, wonderful.
Cheri was perilous in ways one wouldn’t expect, ways she couldn’t even see herself. It’s what had drawn him to her to begin with, that unapologetic boldness. The silent strength that she radiates even when he had been his most cruel to her, even when he had made her cry. Part of him would never get tired of annoying her but he finds he no longer wants to be the reason behind her tears.
Her breath is warm against his glittering neck and he finds he cannot break this spell beneath her lingering touch. As if he was wearing the golden bridle again in that other world, snared by her. The dark Fae had always hated the idea of being held in any sort of captivity and even now he champs his teeth in agitation. But he still can’t seem to move away from her, he can’t find the desire to place any distance between them.
Her voice is gentle but firm after his rant (she even laughs) and his pointed ears flick backward, annoyed. He remains quiet, reluctantly listening even as his glittering gaze remains on the group behind her only to flash back to her as she speaks of being underestimated and the cool look he gives her is one of disappointment. Is that what she thought, that he underestimated her? Perhaps at times, he had.
He had certainly wanted to bring her low. It had made him feel better to bring her down where he was, to place himself higher than her. There had been times when he had certainly enjoyed frightening her, seeing her anger flash in those bright green eyes. So when had it changed? When did he start looking for her smile instead of her frown? He finds it now as she stares up at him, lifting her delicate head so that the crystals along her forehead sparkle with the light of the sun. Achingly beautiful, so much so that it brings the smug smirk back to his lips as he becomes more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life.
He was tired of it. All of it.
But he didn’t see how it could be any different. Or what she could possibly want from him. His Fae curiosity flickers though until he finally, gruffly, asks. “And what would you suggest?”
She’d thought that her calm demeanor had been a literal thing. One smug smirk from Obscene made her realize otherwise. A tension she’d been unconsciously holding onto disappeared, lifting a weight over her and allowing the smaller mare to finally breath. He was giving her a chance. She could work with that.
She glanced once at the orb hovering near to Obscene, almost as if she could sense an entity there despite the fact that it was just a glowing orb. She reminded herself that he was fae: mythical, immortal, as unbound to the natural laws of this world as she was discovering herself to be. She blinked once at the odd bedfellow and tried not to concern herself with the idea that it might be a connection to another horse, some other being who would be privy to this discussion.
She wanted things between them private for now. Just them: herself and Obscene. “The way it should be.” Her nagging thoughts offered without her asking. She bit back the irritation at herself, in case Obscene picked up on it and misconstrued the expression as something directed at him.
“Nothing radical. A truce.” She pursued the idea smoothly, no hint of inner worry or concern evident on her face. Ledger’s instructions had served her well, it would seem. “I know the idea of trust between us is laughable, everything considered.” Cheri moved steadily from his shoulder to reposition herself beside him, just the edges of her wing brushing against his barrel and shoulder. From here they could glance at one another when they liked, but for the most part they could observe the world around them as a friendly-looking pair.
“I want to radicalize this world. Shake it awake from its slumber, change it if possible.” Cheri expressed with the gust of a sigh, unable to tear away the wild smile lighting up her otherwise dark and intense features. Beqanna was stagnant, and that had worked well for their predecessors, but she could sense a desire growing in herself and others like her - an intense curiosity to stir the stagnant waters. To push boundaries. Obscene was a poster child for that change, something she admired and (begrudgingly) respected. “But that’s made all the more difficult with someone like you pushing back at me. One day I will succeed Oceane.” Cheri stated this fact, confident of its eventual passing.
“When that happens I’ll need you. You may come to find that you need me as well. I only think it’s best that we both admit this now, before that happens.” Cheri’s smile set itself into a firm grin. The sun, gleaming high on her throne in the sky, warmed the black fur of their pelts. That was what it was to be alive, she thought. To feel the sun on her back and her greatest enemy, subdued for a moment at her side. This was her idea of living.
08-03-2021, 01:50 PM (This post was last modified: 08-03-2021, 04:07 PM by Obscene.)
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
He had forgotten Light was present but is reminded of his glowing companion as she glances towards it. The Wisp was quiet, glowing thoughtfully above him, during the exchange. It had always watched their banter with a knowing gleefulness, as if it held a secret and had thus far been unwilling to share. Now it dances provocatively between his ears at Cheri and if it had a tongue it would surely be sticking it out at her. He thinks he catches a moment of irritation cross her features but it smooths before he can process it. Much like he does now, letting the mask of indifference settle across his own gold lined skill as she finally pulls away and comes to stand beside him.
A few scales begin to shimmer back to the surface but they are few as her wing comes to brush soothingly along his barrel and he can feel the snake within him moving in agitation before disappearing somewhere within him. Avoiding her for now. Her suggestion of a truce is indeed laughable and he snorts with dark amusement but remains quiet as she continues, a single tipped ear turned in her direction. He glances at her from the corner of a red eye, watches the intensity sweeping over her features as she builds on her words, as if she truly believes them. “You sound like Aela.” He snorts again but the Fae is curious, despite it all.
This is surely a trap. His suspicious nature can’t see it as anything else. But even he can’t deny the truth in her words. He is quiet for a moment, considering everything she had said. It went against everything that they had become, everything that they were. “Trust between us is laughable. Why would you trust me now?” He finally asks, looking at her with open curiosity and that roguish smile. The Fae in him is still looking for the trick, the trap, that must lay somewhere in her words. Did she know that Oceane had already come to him, requesting his support for her? Why did they need his approval so badly, he wonders? And did the Genie Queen know about Cheri’s radical ideas that didn’t seem to match the peace that Oceane had always so clearly wanted. Curiouser and curiouser… It makes sense to an extent though, he thinks, teaming up with his nemesis if only for a little while with what was brewing around them.
It still doesn’t answer why she would need him of all horses though.
He feels Light’s presence then who suddenly moves further down to hover just above his nose. “My Prince.” “My Light.” He begrudgingly acknowledges aloud, annoyed at being interrupted and distracted. “If I may be so bold, you’re not asking the right questions.” The Wisp says simply before moving back to his place between his long ears. Obscene is quiet for a moment, considering the advice. He glances down at the gold stars patterned along his chest, looks up, and thinks.
“You would willingly align yourself with someone you hate?” He finally asks after a pregnant pause, the dark rubies of his eyes trained back on the small crowds gathered before them, looking anywhere but at her. He hadn’t minded hearing her say it, wouldn’t mind hearing her remind him of it now. That safety net they always fell back into, the familiar embrace of their mutual dislike. He needs to hear her say it if only to remind himself that she could lie. That despite the words she may say at least the loathing in her eyes had always spoken volumes, had let him know exactly where he stood.
After all this time Obscene could still surprise her. His mention of her being like Aela amused the pegasus with green wings, so much so that Cheri didn’t even try to bite back the sarcastic laugh that followed such a ridiculous phrase. If Aela were here, she might have actually laughed along with her. She wouldn’t know - Obscene seemed to, and maybe that’s what really irritated her. She shifted, the chime of stones tinkling together accompanying every step of her hooves, and thought of a concise answer to his question.
Why would she trust him? The answer (though she knew it, had literally thought of it a minute ago) wasn’t as clear as he’d like it to be... Which made things difficult. Cheri couldn’t exactly say, “Well, because you told me to.” That would take far too much time and would probably leave Obscene as frustrated as he’d ever been with her.
Luckily, fate intervened and gave her an excuse to say nothing. Obscene’s glowing orb of light trickled down his nose like a dancing star, oddly bright for the middle of day and catching Cheri’s attention. She heard nothing, but apparently Obscene had. He answered the ball cordially, calling it “my light.” His light? Cheri kept her expression unbothered, mostly curious.
Whoever his ‘light’ was, they must’ve said something to redirect Obscene. His pause didn’t go unnoticed, or the way that he glanced down at himself before looking up to pose a similar, yet cleverly pointed question. Cheri’s face smoothed out into mild surprise, happy that whoever was in that little ball of energy between his ears seemed to be a consultant and not an informant. She was still slightly bothered at the fact of it being able to hear them both, while her involvement seemed muted. She sighed deeply, collecting herself. That was Beqanna for you: always tipping the scales.
“The thing is... I don’t hate you, Obscene.” Cheri admitted with an airy, feminine sigh. Even despondency suited her; She looked equal parts striking and regal, as if her seriousness was painted over her features instead of felt. The amount of desire and hope she harbored made the latter impossible. Cheri simply couldn’t be sad - she refused it. Not with Obscene so near to her, not while they were slowly building a moment together. Her gut felt pleasantly warm at the thought.
She kept her eyes strictly on the others, in case their wildfyre green betrayed her thoughts. “Maybe once upon a time I did, but I’ve come to see that I hated a version of you - something of my own creation. When in reality you were… good. Damn good.” Cheri smirked, flicking her ears back petulantly. “You came into my home and spit at my hooves, remember?” She laughed, not in the least bitter for a hard lesson learned.
Yea, it sucked. She’d probably never let him live that down. “But I would be history’s biggest, silliest, most narcissistic fool to think that keeping someone like you, a stallion who defies the norm and does what he wants, on my bad side.” Cheri detailed. All this time and she’d never forgotten their first meeting, where she’d been so insufferable and confused. Obscene had a gift for exploiting weaknesses. She knew that better than anyone else. If she was planning on being greater than the sum of all her predecessors, then Cheri would have to learn to redirect that gift somewhere else… before it was the death of her.
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}
