en natt så kall och månen den var klar

Catharsis. Like plunging a needle into an infected wound, and feeling the blackness roil out, slipping down your skin and disappearing in a wash of clear, red blood—like feeling your throat nearly yell out the anger and the frustration, and the softness of tears as you run yourself ragged. Empty, lighter, but tonight he furiously blinked back the tears, refusing to let the emotional chaos of his body take physical shape. She wouldn't understand, anyway. No one ever did.

Except Sarazheha, curse that horse. Once, Mauja had been able to stand on his own four feet, but now he just felt broken, like a ruined machine. Something was malfunctioning and just wanted to crawl back to his brother, and be fixed.

He was already swallowing the godsblood's bitter medicine. Honesty. Truth. And his breath stopped punching white clouds into the temperate night, the temperature of his body slowly rising back to normal.

It seems he can only ever be angry for so long before the peace of a gentle snowfall claims him again.

Mauja is no blizzard.

"The world was warped when I was born, Mauja. Don't you think I want to be like Kahlua? In her world, it seems to be a clear, sunny day, all the time. Don't you think If I was trying to be someone, I would be someone like her?" His eyes closed, mind moving to words he couldn't put into shape—when you've been happy for so long, when you've been.. functional, you realize that no one cares. No one gives a fuck about you when you're strong. No one even considers that you might be hurting inside, or if they do, they're too afraid to ask, because what could possibly be wrong with you?

So you start to let the walls down. Let the cracks show.

But it's already too late.

He doesn't say it, though. Haven't got the words, the time, just feels them roll in his mind like water. It's not meant to be defined.

But finally, finally a small piece of the truth settled in. His ears flickered forward, hope catching on to that single, tiny spark; flared, pale and blue in his opened eyes. "And maybe not everyone hates me, but a lot of horses do. Maybe you don't hate me, but I'm sure I've pissed you off again." The corners of his mouth titled up. If he was going to hold everyone accountable for pissing him off he'd have quite the crusade on his hooves—and it suddenly seemed such a pointless thing, because his yelling had paid off, and it always went as quickly as it came.

"See!" he said, brightly, not certain where his sudden light fervor came from, but it felt like angels singing in his head and church bells ringing. Maybe he was just clinging to the last thing that might save tonight from utter disaster, or maybe it was just a good distraction for his own darkness, but whatever the case he felt like prancing, or bouncing, or.. anything; but he remained grounded, solemn. He knew even this state of mind could wash away as easily as the anger had. "You finally got it. Not everyone hates you."

[ godsblood = Sarazheha ]

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