Laughter shattered the pony’s smug reverie, ending her good-natured amusement at her own antics as quickly as it had begun. Moniz was happy for the company, but there was no way anyone else would ever know that. But the dark and gloomy caves managed to be desperately lonely despite their overcrowding, and hearing a voice directed at her was momentarily pleasant. Afraid of giving herself away and letting the feelings bubble to the surface, Moniz kept her back turned to the voice that overflowed with unsure but unrestrained giggles. She focused intensely on the wall in front of her, locking her dark eyes on an indecipherable cluster of squiggles.
The feminine voice introduced itself as Elsa while Moniz gathered her self-control. She was blabbering some apology now, and the more she talked, the easier it was for Moniz to let go of her initial short-lived desire for some amiable presence. Meanwhile, the light and shadows continued to play amongst themselves on the wall, oblivious to the bodies that hovered in their chamber.
Moniz thought she would have to fight to hold a monotone, but it came to her naturally as she spoke, muttering in a voice that was surprisingly sinister for such a little creature, “Oh dear, Elsa – what a jaded life you lead. Have you never heard someone fart?” She hovered delightedly on that last word, pleased with how one vulgar little syllable could so easily make others squirm. Comfort with a natural bodily function made her different. The word filled her mouth, sitting on her tongue protectively. With one crass word, she could separate herself from the dull masses who made up the so-called respectable society.
No, she would never join the ranks of those who clung to common decency like a threadbare old security blanket. And it was because she could say fart.
“Moniz,” she rumbled by way of introduction, before finally twisting her neck and catching a glimpse of the intruder in her peripheral vision.
She could not halt herself before she spun about on her haunches, turning to stare openly at Elsa. Her peripheries had not lied: it was no trick of the light. Two extra appendages rose from the mare’s shoulders, large and feathered. They overwhelmed every other feature of her attractive, pale body – Moniz did not see a cremello horse, but a pair of eerie white wings. Everything else seemed blurred and indistinct and utterly unmemorable compared to those surreal wings. Moniz cocked her head curiously, unable to disguise her intrigue. When she spoke again, her voice had cracked, allowing the various hints of confusion and uncertainty to ooze up and fill the spaces between the words.
“What are those…? You…?”
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[O] Serenade me with rocks, love (Elsa)
