A long way from home [any]

the Rift

[OPEN] A long way from home [any]

Sheba Posts: 114

Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 hh :: 13 :: Frostfall HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE

Minou :: Ocelot :: Sing Shady

#15

12-06-2016, 05:07 PM (This post was last modified: 12-06-2016, 05:07 PM by Sheba.)

Sheba
another ticking bomb to bury deep and detonate

For a minute, the grove was silent. Then December spoke, an uncharacteristic hitch to her voice as she claimed that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. She would say that, thought Sheba sourly. Inner beauty always seemed to be the most important to those not fortunate enough to possess a pretty face. Given the choice between her old body back and a good heart, the latter became a consolation prize that she did not want. Nevertheless, she could not help but wonder how her companion found her to be beautiful (even with the modifier “in her own way” tacked on the end). “You’re still alive,” December was saying, “You are still fighting to survive…” You don’t know me, she wanted to tell her. What in a few hours’ acquaintance gave the giantess the assurance that she could pin down Sheba’s character, that she could lay out who she believed her to be with such conviction? The impudence!

And yet, a part of her wanted to listen. Part of her liked the light that December cast her in; for while she might not agree that stubbornness and survival were beauty, the idea of strength and noble suffering appealed to her vanity. Besides, whether or not December had characterized her accurately was beside the point, she supposed. It was the perception of her that mattered in the end, wasn’t it? She tried the description on for size: Sheba, Ugly Bag Who Gave No Fucks—it had a decent ring to it, she decided. If she had to look like this, at least she gave off the impression that she couldn’t be hurt by the world. That appealed to her most of all, and so she did not contradict the draft as she painted her into the heroine of her own sad story.

“Of course,” December concluded, as if she had only just now remembered that she had known the old mare for mere hours, “that’s all up for speculation.” True, the crone thought, but she threw the draft a bone for her troubles. “That’s very….generous…of you,” Sheba mumbled, bones creaking as she shifted her weight. Speculation perhaps, but complimentary nonetheless. Briefly, the older mare wondered why her companion was bothering. As she had learned, a good heart only got one so far—what could be December’s ulterior motive? But wrack her brains as she might, Sheba could come up with nothing solid. She had nothing to give the mare…not now, anyway, and there was very little evidence to suggest that she would be useful down the line when she looked as if she could die tomorrow. So why had December taken an interest in her? She was familiar with the notion of kindness, but she had never found the concept of genuine altruism viable until now. It was interesting, she mused with a touch of bitterness, that it was ugliness that had brought the possibility to light. While beauty might have helped one forget loneliness, it also had the effect of masking others’ true intentions. She had been comfortable for so long with the idea that they were all playing the same game on some level, but December’s words baffled her and the uncertainty made her uneasy.

She was grateful when the other mare changed the subject. “I have nothing to give him,” she replied gruffly, “just to make expectations clear. And I won’t be able to travel far in these drifts, which is why I’ve had to winter in the Grove in the first place. But if you bring him back to me,” she said, wondering if the draft would indeed return after they parted. “I will be here.”

"speech"

OOC: merp