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I, as sexist as I was, loved to flirt. I- correction, liked- to play with stallions, my little boy-toys. Cute, handsome, or horrendous- my blue-of-ice eyes gave even the most humble stallions a long look, so even they would blush inside their pelts. Nothing could divert me from a goal when I wanted it. Nothing. When they did fall into my trap, a steel bear trap woven out of whispered words of love and sweet kisses, woven out of honeyed lies and a soothing balm for a stallion's fear, I would kill them. Not necessarily kill, but drive them out, reveling in their crushed expressions. To some, such a drastic action would be horribly cruel, but to me, it was part of my ethical code, just as racism was. I couldn't help it- I was racist. Not so much anymore, but enough that I had a little more distrust, a little more annoyance, for any stallion or mare who didn't bear a horn. I had been raised in a land where unicorns were worshiped, and humanoids lavished me with jewels, grooming my satin coat when I allowed them into my godly presence, spoke in hushed whispers as they prayed to my power and strength. Pegasi had been a rare commodity, but the humans had never liked them as much as me and my pearly horn. Horses, on the other hand, were brutes for carrying, plowing the fields, a mean to get to one place to another.
Silver-of-the-moonlight hooves-cloven touch the snow kissed ground. It is chilly this morning, with a heavy snow blanketing the world. I love fresh snow, how it blanketed the ground, it drowned out everything. Even the crunch of snow under my hooves was muffled, as was the occasional pile of snow dropping off the green of pines. I wished there was something to catch my attention. Despite my ambition, my haughty strength, I was a leader without followers. Neither was I necessarily cruel- I would not kill the red fox that bounded across my path to please myself. Cool air rushed in and out of my nostrils, spiking my lungs with sharp-cold-crystallized-air. I picked up a trot, floating across the ground, wishing to warm myself. My white-of-the-moon-satin-smooth coat rippled over lean muscle, and I tilted my head, sparkling light gleaming and splitting into a thousand reflections of my pearl horn. Ahh, how I loved my beauty. I would not lie about that.
"speech"
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