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Grief is like sinking, like being buried. It's as if she's in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt, struggling to breath, nostrils just below the surface. Every breath is full of choking and the world fighting to keep air out. There is nothing to push herself upwards, no sides, no way to claw herself up. There is nothing to do but let go, to let the water engulf, drown, save her from this horrible life. Feel the weight all around her almost crush her frail body, feel the squeezing of her lungs, each inhale through a sandpaper jugular a fight, the steady pressure building and building like a stopped up hose, seconds from exploding from the lack of release. There is nothing but the bottom, a dark and endless bottom. There is nothing but the taste of blood, a putrid metallic taste, and the echoes of old things in a mind once healthy. The days that once looked vibrant with colors, now look like the darkness, shadows of what used to be glorious.
The darkest shadow of all speaks to her in words that fall to her ears like a useless chain of mumbles. There is no response from the girl who know stares blankly at him, at the dark shadow, a source of her pain, but not the only one. Her body is sore, bitterly throbbing. A breath that had been held too long is released from her ivory nostrils in the form of a hot gust and she breathes in deeply, an attempt to soothe the desperate ache. Still, her body is throbbing, desperate for air. No matter how much she breaths, it is not enough.
His words cut through her groggy mind sharply, like knives. His reasoning for her to eat more and stay healthy is just so it will be impossible to claim ill-treatment? The last flicker of anything good dies. Why would she truly believed he cared for her wellbeing? Her captor only cares for his image and his herd's image. Dröm just stands, a waste of space and oxygen.
At night, the headland is silent, no echoes of the sounds of coughing, heaving, feverish chatter: noises of disease, which run over the land and fill everyone all with dread. No, no sickness because Dröm's captor, the king, won't allow it. "Healers," he'll say, "go find one." He whose name she does not know, he whom she'll refer to as the Shadow, he whom refuses illness. He is everything she doesn't not want to be. If she knew not better, she would claim that He is only a shadow of what He used to be, therefore will be known as the Shadow, a man draped in a facade of glory and righteousness. Even if the gold mare knew His name was Kaj, she'd still only refer to the tawny colored brute as the Shadow.
Another horse joins. He is dressed in the night, a body of the darkest obsidian. He speaks not a word, yet it is clear he is loyal to the Shadow. Does he know what has happened here? Is the vile smell of blood and sweat from a recent invasion not enough to warn the black horse away? Ink, his name is suiting, but she knows not his name and does not wish to know it. He who sides with an enemy is an enemy.
Hunger gnaws at her like a dog with a rawhide bone. Soon, she would be oblivion, a thin skeleton lifeless on the ground. The image of a golden corpse is not displeasing to the short Arab. Death would be a fine pleasure. Death was a Christmas present, unwrapping a chocolate kiss, rereading a favorite book for the fiftieth time and still knowing you will love it as much as the first time. Death is an inexplicable array of emotions that leads to the divine numbness of lifelessness.
When she first arrived, she slept, dreaming of a time before. She dreamed of what used to be, who she used to call Czar. She dreamed of dark, brooding, stallions that thrilled and excited her. She also dreamed of playing with her snowflake-marked friend. Yet when she wakes up, tears would be evident. The pleasant escape from reality shattering away as she wakes, stirs. And now? She is faced with the harsh reality of the Shadow and his loyal black stallion. They say when death comes, it's a sleep you never wake up from. Does this mean there will still be dreams? Is heaven just our never-ending afterlife dream?
Caramel eyes fall to the ground as she receives the final lecture he gives for now. She refrains from attacking him with words. It was frstrating he had to talk endlessly when all she had wanted to truly do was walk silently towards the prisons. Why did he have to question everything? She wanted someone who would just listen. Someone who would let her open up when she felt she wanted to, when it was time. There was no one like that, not anymore. She'd never met a Helovian that could shut the fuck up, listen, and be patient. In Helovia, everything was rushed and forced, an infuriating combination that had more than once made her angry. Her temper was cool now, though. No fight left. The Shadow cared not about her, not about her feelings or emotions. He wanted answers. She didn't have them. He wanted a reason. She didn't have one. He wanted her to realize that this was all her fault. But she couldn't. The fact that his side had three times the amount of horses her side had was startling. Even if she fought one horse and won, she'd still have to go through two more. Dröm had been bold and fiery, but her body and mind would never last past the second fight. By the end of the invasion, many, many, many horses from the Shadow's side had not really fought. They may have gotten one or two kicks in, but as each fight became 1v1, many horses stood still, waiting for an opponent.
"Nevermind, I'm sorry for asking." Her voice was quiet and soft, kind and gentle. Dröm is a nurturing soul, her voice only proves that point further. Each word is similar to a lullaby, with sweet and relaxing tones. Her face has managed to stay rather blank, showing barely any emotion. If either of the stallions that stood in her company had wits, they'd see that she had built a sort of wall around herself and her emotions, a way for them not to see how she truly felt and a way for her not to be hurt further by any cocky and arrogant horses. Her eyes flicker towards the sky, finding a dark bird circling overhead. Sorry you can't eat me, I'm not dead yet... Despite what it looks like, she thinks sadly before her gaze is once more focused on the brittle grass beneath her hooves.
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I got like... random muse for her and this is what happened xD
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