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09-23-2013, 10:09 PM
OOC| No worries, I can see he's a handful to write. I love him already!
You're chewing, mulling, staring. It will take many minutes for the plant's effects to overtake you. It seems like hours already. You wish you had thought to do this earlier, to take your drug and let the world dissolve around you. What happens in your mind when you eat the plants? Even you can hardly say. They make everything disappear. And isn't that what you want? To just disappear? It's what you thought. But now you're not so certain.
Lace-face has crawled into your mind. You haven't spent that much time with her. But something about her is alluring. Its only lust, you think, but lust is hard to ignore- especially when experiencing that lust requires being present and using your brain. You never had that problem before. Nobody in your homeland was even understanding enough to deserve your attention. Something in lace-face's demeanor has struck a chord with you, though. She said you belonged, she said you were wanted. It's weird, but you've never heard those words before and they make you feel... special.
Unfortunately, they don't make you feel special enough. Not yet. Even lace-face can't make you drop this drug habit you've so innocuously picked up. That's why you left the herd meeting. That's why you're taking solace in the comfort of the plants and not the comfort of a woman. Herd. You snort at the idea, the word sarcastic in your mind. Lace-face led you to your plants and you stupidly said you stay with her group. You're more than a little upset that you said you would. Unfortunately, lust and addiction uphold your promise for now.
As you stand there, staring out at the endless sea, watching the waves crash onto the sands (and onto you), you see movement. A stallion. He stands on the beach and stares and you, his look is strange but your sure yours is too. You turn to face him and for a while, you just stare back at him. You've never been much of a conversationalist. In your staring, you notice a wound on his neck- huge and gaping, dripping blood. It almost makes you smile, though the sentiment only turns your lips from a frown into a straight line. You're not sure what to make of the stallion yet. Perhaps you present a similar picture, you decide. If the staring stallion has made something of you, he has not said it yet.
You and this other must present a strange picture, standing here staring at one another so uselessly. As you do, though, a thought begins to brew in your mind. Herd, you think again, a little less sarcastically. You're tired of being looked at as the scum of the earth. There is nothing wrong with you. You have a habit. Who doesn't. Some are habitually rude, some are habitually cold and distant. Some are just habitually high on plants. So, if just being is not good enough, you will force them to respect you. Yes, you think to yourself, rather pleased. You'll play their game, you'll be in their herd. You're not going to stand idly by, though. You're going to make yourself a general, if they want one or not.
“Who looks worse?” Your words are short as you speak finally, referring to the festering wound he must have gained from someone or something. Your words are sometimes hard to follow. It might be a side-effect of the plants, but maybe you always speak this way. You stare at him then, waiting for an answer, swaying slightly in the waves. If you're being rude, you don't care. You're not on this earth to make friends. You never have been. Besides, you've already decided this stallion is going to be a part of your plan. If he fits in with the fools you're supposed to call family (and isn't so much of a weakling that he let his opponent get away without any damage), you're going to drag him home- “prove” your worth. Yes, a little bit of a proof and a lot of fighting goes a long way; and, now that you've decided what you're going to do with your future, you're determined.
You're chewing, mulling, staring. It will take many minutes for the plant's effects to overtake you. It seems like hours already. You wish you had thought to do this earlier, to take your drug and let the world dissolve around you. What happens in your mind when you eat the plants? Even you can hardly say. They make everything disappear. And isn't that what you want? To just disappear? It's what you thought. But now you're not so certain.
Lace-face has crawled into your mind. You haven't spent that much time with her. But something about her is alluring. Its only lust, you think, but lust is hard to ignore- especially when experiencing that lust requires being present and using your brain. You never had that problem before. Nobody in your homeland was even understanding enough to deserve your attention. Something in lace-face's demeanor has struck a chord with you, though. She said you belonged, she said you were wanted. It's weird, but you've never heard those words before and they make you feel... special.
Unfortunately, they don't make you feel special enough. Not yet. Even lace-face can't make you drop this drug habit you've so innocuously picked up. That's why you left the herd meeting. That's why you're taking solace in the comfort of the plants and not the comfort of a woman. Herd. You snort at the idea, the word sarcastic in your mind. Lace-face led you to your plants and you stupidly said you stay with her group. You're more than a little upset that you said you would. Unfortunately, lust and addiction uphold your promise for now.
As you stand there, staring out at the endless sea, watching the waves crash onto the sands (and onto you), you see movement. A stallion. He stands on the beach and stares and you, his look is strange but your sure yours is too. You turn to face him and for a while, you just stare back at him. You've never been much of a conversationalist. In your staring, you notice a wound on his neck- huge and gaping, dripping blood. It almost makes you smile, though the sentiment only turns your lips from a frown into a straight line. You're not sure what to make of the stallion yet. Perhaps you present a similar picture, you decide. If the staring stallion has made something of you, he has not said it yet.
You and this other must present a strange picture, standing here staring at one another so uselessly. As you do, though, a thought begins to brew in your mind. Herd, you think again, a little less sarcastically. You're tired of being looked at as the scum of the earth. There is nothing wrong with you. You have a habit. Who doesn't. Some are habitually rude, some are habitually cold and distant. Some are just habitually high on plants. So, if just being is not good enough, you will force them to respect you. Yes, you think to yourself, rather pleased. You'll play their game, you'll be in their herd. You're not going to stand idly by, though. You're going to make yourself a general, if they want one or not.
“Who looks worse?” Your words are short as you speak finally, referring to the festering wound he must have gained from someone or something. Your words are sometimes hard to follow. It might be a side-effect of the plants, but maybe you always speak this way. You stare at him then, waiting for an answer, swaying slightly in the waves. If you're being rude, you don't care. You're not on this earth to make friends. You never have been. Besides, you've already decided this stallion is going to be a part of your plan. If he fits in with the fools you're supposed to call family (and isn't so much of a weakling that he let his opponent get away without any damage), you're going to drag him home- “prove” your worth. Yes, a little bit of a proof and a lot of fighting goes a long way; and, now that you've decided what you're going to do with your future, you're determined.
we all look for ways to make the pain go away
