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12-23-2013, 03:51 PM
Devoid of any care for the others who had arrived to gaze upon the Moon, she watches the movements of the night queen with apt attention, hearing the words she gave to those before her but giving little other mind to them. A jealous look is spared the painted Glazier, a face that seems to constantly reappear in her life. She wonders as to the point of such things, if there is any. Her eyes are torn away from the gifts bestowed upon Kahlua, however, as the Goddess’ attentions turn her way. Her mouth falls from a star struck grin into a line of displeasure with the questioning. The Moon should know why it is she is who she has become; a large portion of it is due entirely to that damn Glazier’s forest herd, the Goddess before them who consistently chose to bless Mirage with her gifts rather than the truly deserving. Bitterly, she tries to swallow her pride before she speaks, the quivering the traces along her frame at such insults to her ego. "Let the Father of Spark take no offense or think that I am ungrateful for his blessings, mistress," coolly replies the mare, proud of herself for maintaining such a steady tone and pitch – there is not a hint of needy squalor or chaotic rage, "but my heart has always been yours. Perhaps you have forgotten… but I was born beneath your light, and there I will always be." She ceases her explanation and begins to slip away from the gathering, taking her leave before the last of the gifts is extended to the group who has come to worship her appearance. Perhaps the aching of her heart at yet another rejection from the Goddess is evident upon her face; she does not care and does not try to hide her feelings of displacement and misunderstanding. It is possible, she thinks, that she has wasted her life loving something that could not even be bothered to know her at all. But why would the Goddess be bothered? She was, after all, a member of the most despicable association on the continent. Perhaps she deserved to be so ostracized by her own beloved deity. [ OOC: Assumed post order was a lie? :'D ] There was a river once, with many round stones enchanted by shallow hopes of embracing the ocean; water is peculiar this way, how its life is a line that cannot bend or change without the approval of its bed. |
