A chronic numbness hummed persistently through the star scattered mare's body. Her golden eyes, once lively, were dull and clouded - she had lost everything. Evers, and the Grey, and the Hills (now the Falls, but it was different nonetheless), no friends, no family, nothing. Irrydae found herself a lot standing among the bristly purple flowers, some nearly the color of her own purple that painted her hide. The weather improved her mood, even though just by the slightest, as Tallsun always did. The skies were clear and the sun lay it's rays over her like a protective blanket. The light lasted longer which meant she could hide from the nightmares longer, as well. There were often times Irrydae did not, could not, sleep and she was content at watching the stars or flying along with them.

A light breeze tugged at the creamy trendils that ran in waves away from her, and she let her body move along with it, and it tugged her along. Sometimes she lost herself within the simple things such as the wind or stars, and she could almost forget for a few seconds, but of course the grippling pain and ache of numbness latched back on to her. It was as if someone had knocked her breath out of her, as if the wind had stolen that as well. Irrydae's own thoughts were her problem, whether it was lingering on her past with Evers, or thinking where he was now, or what happened to him. Scenarios would build themselves in her head, seemingly so realistic, only for them to become devastatingly broken when it got too good to be true. It will never happen, she will remind herself.

Irrydae wanted to give up each time her lashes fluttered open and she awoke, not next to her pool, not next to Evers, and with no one to go to, yet she found herself trudging along each day for an unknown reason. Something in the very wedge of her mind encouraging her to take that step forward. She ate despite the appearance of hunger never showing up because she knew she had to. Despite this, she had still lost weight and struggled with it. Her muscles were not as strong, and it broke her heart to not be able to fly, and especially to not be able to fly with the stars. For this, she tried so damn hard.

It never worked.

Irrydae swings her head back to look at the knobby appearance of bones underneath her coat - she was not emaciated, but skinnier than what she probably should have been. I guess fighting a war in your mind every living, aching moment was a bit detrimental. Irrydae knew the fake look of pity in their eyes when they saw her. The same fake pity or sorrow she got when she told the truth - that she might not be as good as she so simply says because no one ever actually cares when they ask how you are; it's just small talk, and you're supposed to say "good." It's quite simple, really. They don't want to hear anything different, and if they do then the fake pity is pasted into their eyes and features, and they grind their teeth trying to decide if they should be nice and ask what's wrong, but have to endure your troubles, or whether they should just pretend to be sorry and move along before they have to cope with you any longer. Irrydae saw it, she always saw it, so she just started saying that she was good to please them. She went upon her day and fought the constant urge to give up, give up, give up.

As it turns out, time does not actually heal.

It is just another empty saying driven from fake pity. Another lie.


talk talk talk
@[Argen]