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Privately, Snö often thinks of Mauja and Psyche. Of how Psyche did little more than nurse her before leaving her; and how Mauja somehow attributed to Monster's death, to Thais' death. Of how Monster, who had been, maybe, little more than a simple beast in mind, but her closest, dearest friend, had turned into a dog. From enlightened unicorn to brutal beast. The mare, so often her words crass and uncaring, had, too, left the burden of society behind, allowing herself to romp and roam, although she did not romp, persay. Her tail flicked, a full creamy silver in color sweetly complimented by warm chestnut, as she moved carelessly across the undulating landscape of snow hardening to a rough crust as the coolness of night fell.
Beside her varnished chestnut form, the metal wolf clicked and whirred, moving seamlessly and smoothly, yet even less than Thais in mind. For a moment Snö contemplated it's rugged golden metal contours. What had she told the crafter Ulrik? Something about... oh yes. A wolf for the lady, he had said, or something much like it; so one day she could become the wolf.
A grim smile made its way across her delicately sculpted face, a face so beautifully made it was as if the ones who had given her form were afraid to do wrong, as if knowing her future persona and her erratic bouts of fathomless cruelty. It would've been quite the miracle, after all, if the fine lady named Snö was to turn out as a peace-keeper and hippie, a lover of trees and plants. With parents devoid of less than tolerance, more frequently than not, for equines without a sword upon their brows, it was of course that she would turn the same way.
<font style="font-size: 130px;">Snö</font>
<font size="7px"><font color="#b1d3d3"><i>and when you see me, you will freeze</i></font></font></center>
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<font color="#313239">Privately, Snö often thinks of Mauja and Psyche. Of how Psyche did little more than nurse her before leaving her; and how Mauja somehow attributed to Monster's death, to Thais' death. Of how Monster, who had been, maybe, little more than a simple beast in mind, but her closest, dearest friend, had turned into a <i>dog</i>. From enlightened unicorn to brutal beast. The mare, so often her words crass and uncaring, had, too, left the burden of society behind, allowing herself to romp and roam, although she did not romp, persay. Her tail flicked, a full creamy silver in color sweetly complimented by warm chestnut, as she moved carelessly across the undulating landscape of snow hardening to a rough crust as the coolness of night fell.
Beside her varnished chestnut form, the metal wolf clicked and whirred, moving seamlessly and smoothly, yet even less than Thais in mind. For a moment Snö contemplated it's rugged golden metal contours. What had she told the crafter Ulrik? Something about... oh yes. A wolf for the lady, he had said, or something much like it; so one day she could become the wolf.
A grim smile made its way across her delicately sculpted face, a face so beautifully made it was as if the ones who had given her form were afraid to do wrong, as if knowing her future persona and her erratic bouts of fathomless cruelty. It would've been quite the miracle, after all, if the fine lady named Snö was to turn out as a peace-keeper and hippie, a lover of trees and plants. With parents devoid of less than tolerance, more frequently than not, for equines without a sword upon their brows, it was of course that she would turn the same way.