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10-06-2015, 11:25 PM
He doesn't answer her, instead he stoically watches, pushing whatever sadness bubbles in his gut away. She, along with every other horse he had ever known, pushed him away. Couldn't they tell her didn't want to leave? The beast wanted to stay, yet no one would allow him to unless he learned to love. What was this world he had joined, and why was he so out of place, a siren in a land of soft, harmonious, music. He is the one off-key note in an otherwise beautiful lullaby.
As she accuses him of things that are certainly untrue, he grows withdrawn, slowly backing away, knowing she will tell him to leave, knowing that she will not care when he listens.
Breathlessly, he waits for the words that dismiss him. The world of sex and foals was no place for a two year old, it here he was, with a mare who hated him while looking over his first child's grave.
A deep, dark, perhaps satanic, chuckle vibrates from his jaw, it's broken, dejected sound eerie and disheartening at the same time. "Tell me I am a father, tell me my child is dead, accuse me in such a vulnerable state, then dismiss me like a child." After his deathly silent words are whispered from his lips, he pauses, eyes shifting to his daughter's grave momentarily. "Do you want me to say it?" He asks harshly. "Fine. I'm fucking scared. Is that what you wanted, Enna? To point out my flaws and attack me with them? You wouldn't like that to happen to you. Do you expect me to act normally after hearing that I am the father of a child that never took a breath? Is it normal for you to accuse me of being wanting to be in the center of the world when you act like I should bow down to the goddamn ground you walk on?" She made no sense. This made no sense. Why had he ever thought they'd be compatible? She was a fiery mare and he was a cold stallion. They are polar opposites, too opposite to function. If she grew colder, or he warmer, maybe then it would work, but not now.
Caleb turns away, wordlessly now. He begins walking home, a sort of march. Henrietta, for once, does not follow, but lingers around Enna. The Beast's beast is more supportive than the Beast himself. Ironic.
As she accuses him of things that are certainly untrue, he grows withdrawn, slowly backing away, knowing she will tell him to leave, knowing that she will not care when he listens.
Breathlessly, he waits for the words that dismiss him. The world of sex and foals was no place for a two year old, it here he was, with a mare who hated him while looking over his first child's grave.
A deep, dark, perhaps satanic, chuckle vibrates from his jaw, it's broken, dejected sound eerie and disheartening at the same time. "Tell me I am a father, tell me my child is dead, accuse me in such a vulnerable state, then dismiss me like a child." After his deathly silent words are whispered from his lips, he pauses, eyes shifting to his daughter's grave momentarily. "Do you want me to say it?" He asks harshly. "Fine. I'm fucking scared. Is that what you wanted, Enna? To point out my flaws and attack me with them? You wouldn't like that to happen to you. Do you expect me to act normally after hearing that I am the father of a child that never took a breath? Is it normal for you to accuse me of being wanting to be in the center of the world when you act like I should bow down to the goddamn ground you walk on?" She made no sense. This made no sense. Why had he ever thought they'd be compatible? She was a fiery mare and he was a cold stallion. They are polar opposites, too opposite to function. If she grew colder, or he warmer, maybe then it would work, but not now.
Caleb turns away, wordlessly now. He begins walking home, a sort of march. Henrietta, for once, does not follow, but lingers around Enna. The Beast's beast is more supportive than the Beast himself. Ironic.
![[Image: caleb_by_lovelyskylark-d995h4j.png]](http://orig10.deviantart.net/11e2/f/2015/253/1/d/caleb_by_lovelyskylark-d995h4j.png)
a cold-hearted man was once a man that once cared too much.
