Embarrassment coursed through my veins, and I fought the urge to run, ashamed, from the stallion. Of course, this was precisely why I refused to tell others of my illness - it was unthinkable. The could not empathize, and they would not sympathize. Too often I had seen perfectly good meetings take a downhill turn for just this reason - I could feel a fit coming on and had to warn them. Most of them came up with an excuse to leave before I went under; those who didn't were gone by the time I awoke. I never saw any of them again, at any rate. And I truly liked Thor. He seemed to have a kind, gentle disposition, and I felt myself drawn to him. I ached to glance up into his orbs, to be reassured by the soul I would see behind them, but I couldn't. I stared at the ground.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I haven't found a way to control it, and believe me, I've tried." My voice was small, resigned. He questioned the actions of friends and family, and I shut my eyes tightly. My inability to ward off the memories only made my distress worse, and I gave in to the past, images flashing over my closed lids. "I wouldn't know how my herd would react, as I have not told them of my affliction as of yet. But I fear that they would cast me out." As my family once did. I longed to say it, to speak the words, to complete my story, but the words failed me, and I was left with nothing but a ragged breath. It would be soon, now, and I doubted I would get to hear the steed's response. "I'm very sorry..." I whispered, as my vision began to fade.

As the change begins, the fae's eyes turn dull, glassy, as though they are unable to focus. The tension that rolled off her in waves reaches its peak, then breaks, her muscles relaxing in a sudden and unexpected way. A new look comes into her eyes, almost as though a new being is unfolding from its complex box, stored deep in the recesses of the mind. A slow smile curls across the lips, almost feline in nature. It's a coy look, one that speaks of deadly humor and biting wit.

My, my, how long has it been since I have been released from my prison? It feels like ages since I have been allowed outside the walls of my mind. It is most unpleasant to be trapped behind a wall of glass, able to look out, to hear the goings on of my weaker self, and be rendered unable to do anything. And this stallion was simply delicious to look at. I'd been clamoring to get out, of course, and that had caused the weakling's headache, but when she had come across this fine specimen, I was practically dying to emerge. Just the right amount of push and, well, here I was!

The flirtatious smile that plays across my maw is suddenly accompanied my batting lashes. He is sure to notice the difference, but how can he resist my charm? And how wonderfully funny would it be if I could have him completely smitten with me? Or, better yet, to coax him into siring a foal. How confused would the weakling be then? I was practically brimming with mirth, pleased both with the circumstances and my freedom. I know that I would only be allowed to remain in control for a short time - my weaker half was annoyingly good at control - and decided I'd best get moving. "Do you know," I simpered, a sweet tone flowing into my tones, "that you are quite the handsome fellow?" What was the point in playing hard to get? There was so much more fun to be had by just taking what you wanted. If only the weakling could see that.

[W/C | 665]