The tears continue to flow from my eyes, and most would have given up on trying to wipe them away but Cera doesn't. It's as if, when I lean up against his touch he understands that I just need someone to get rid of these images. I don't care who. I don't care how. But it seems as if the past I'd been trying so hard to keep repressed was surfacing at greater speeds than before and covering me like tidal waves. I was going to drown in my own thoughts at this rate and I didn't know how to swim through my own images. I didn't think it was possible, not when each and every image simply was there because it wanted to drag me down.

His fluffy companion has curled up against my chest, allowing her tail to wrap around my right leg and the little chirrups break me from the images of the flaming bird screeching at death. My hawk was not a phoenix, he would not be able to rise from those ashes...

Slowly, carefully, my mind begins to drag itself from the depths of horrible images that it had been creating. Instead, the sweetness of the hum coming from the young lad's lips has caused my mind to spin, to finally place some of the good memories. And, as the memories of good times begin to keep my frame afloat I duck my head underneath his wing to press up against the little creature beside me. The calming noises from the pair is enough to keep me straight, even when the little creature allows her paws to start to wrap my around my face. Silently, I let out a soft breath, the tears managing to stop for a little bit as my mind evens out on one image.

The darkness I've created, both by closing my orbs and hiding underneath the wing that was offered to me, has made me feel like I was normal again. I was reliant on the vibrations again and it was a sweet thing. The images that danced in front of my eyes were ones from a birds-eye view. Long stretches of water curving around trees and rocks. A cliff and the wind blowing through my hair, trying to wrap the ribbons around my neck in lace-like patterns. And then, my hawk finally returning and curling up against my withers with a content squawk.

Good times. Times I hadn't had a chance to remember yet. And Cera is speaking again, causing my audits to perk up as a few tears slide down my cheeks from the joy of being able to remember something good instead of seeing images of death. He claims he isn't good with words, explaining how he could barely speak at one point. But, he offered more than someone that young could possibly understand. It surprised me, how mature this young lad was. Offering himself to hold me, to let me cry as needed without asking for anything in return. That took strength - strength far beyond what seemed to be a lot of equine's years here. His breath tickled my ear a little, but I didn't flinch. I didn't want to break something I didn't want to ruin the possibility of another relationship, another thing that would remind me maybe I wasn't alone.

Then, his head is tilting so it is also under the protection of his wing, reaching just enough so that it presses up against my forelock. And, then he begins to lip at it, twisting it around. There is comfort in that action. Something I had experienced plenty of times before. But, in a different manner. It had always been right after I'd been beaten. They would play with my forelock and tell me that it was okay, that they still loved me - I just had to learn how to behave and look, that they could fix me by punishing me every time I stepped out of line. And, somehow, I still connected it with love, with care, and my lips curled into a weak smile. I stayed like that, continuing to breathe in his companion and allow the good memories to fill my mind.

I wasn't sobbing anymore. My chest wasn't heaving in a panic, and the flames had leveled out. Yet tears were still falling as the rolls of good memories slowly began to form in my mind and a minuscule level of calm started to try and wash over my form.



[next post rasta'll get up and try and play with him ;3]