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02-26-2016, 12:44 AM
all of the jewels in the crown would never make you happy,
but damn,
they're worth trying
Fatigue settles in her bones as the shadows lengthen, drawing thick bodies into slender, long and narrow masses that catch and mingle within one another, fading with the hours of time. Snow has caught itself up in the tangled mess of golden strands, cradled in curls that barely hold themselves into place, hanging with their fingers lazily strung into the body of gold. They drape their wounded and broken bodies across her lovely back, wanting to so desperately kiss the skin buried beneath a winter coat that is quite possibly too thick for this winter.
Her travels were forced southbound, moving away from things, listening to the sounds of birds and other animals change as she fled a home that couldn’t possibly define itself as home anymore. Back there, she had been a thing of beauty, a symbol of whatever people could make those with blood made of hope that was forced into the veins, never by choice but need, never stopping to think that of what was the brain of such people.
She claimed herself better than them, better than all of their naive minds and worthless hopes, looking for something greater, and here it had gone ahead and blown up in her face. She walks alone, bringing shallow but quick breaths from her nostrils with name sake know living up to what it is meant to be, carrying the guilt of all the souls that she has ruined.
Winter birds mock her as she stops, dragging the remains of her beauty behind her, tail knotted and mane threatening her with dreadlocks. Her forelock doesn’t even move with the same grace that it had once done in the past as her crown moves, small, delicate ears twirling as if they dance when she tries to find the silence, wishing for once that there would more silence in the woods that are now bathing themselves in the dying orange hues of sunset, descending to the lightly blanketed ground as it gripped wispy fingers over dead, empty black branches that reach for the sky like desperate fingers.
A stamp hushes the birds only briefly, listening with ears held as far forward as they will allow themselves to go their laughter turns to cries of terror and fear, abandoning the dirty and worn mare until she is left to stand alone in her small opening in the trees, leaving her with her thoughts that tell her it’s time to keep moving and to not look back.
OOC: Asking to just keep it as her and @Colt for plot reasons.
