Mr. Silverthorn seems more interested in her sister than her. It was always like that, Dröm was used to it. She had always been ignored. A middle sibling, a forgotten flax girl who was nothing special. Nothing, but average. Has that changed? She is not very different from other horses, a stereotypical nice girl with a brain. Wasn't everyone like that? She wondered how to be different, but Mr. Silverthorn's problems outdid hers. She listened to his words. His voice carrying her in a gentle lull, despite his words not being the most pleasant. He asked what she expected him to do. His question disappointed her slightly, however she did not let him know that. Her expression stayed pleasant as she began to answer. "No, I do not expect you to do that. How can you ..." Her words had grown quiet until her voice was not audible. His voice immediately bursts into the air. "It's not offensive. I think it's strange, eerie. Why call a stranger beautiful and make her think you are happy, if you truly aren't? You don't need to tell me your answer. It is not something I wish to know." She paused for a moment, attempting to figure out what to say how to say it. Once she believes she knows what to say, she breathes in and begins, her voice unfaltering as each word spills from her lips in a confident way, but not cocky. "A liar once said, 'At a certain point in our rather short lives, we loose control of what happens to us or what we do to others and fate takes over.' But that is untruthful, Lace. Fate is cannot make anyone unhappy. That is something horses do to themselves. Fate is merely a mirage." She spoke, the possibility of making him either extremely upset or indifferent grows. "However, if you wish to no longer be bitter, go fix the problem instead of putting a facade of dull happiness on." Would her words make sense to the stallion that was clearly older than her. They say that with age comes wisdom, and to a degree, the golden babe believes that. Yet, she's also met some really stupid elders. "Basically saying, go fix the damn problem yourself and stop sitting on your ass waiting for something to happen." A condensed summary of her drawn out explanation might make more sense to Mr. Silverthorn than her actual explanation. And yes, Dröm did just curse. She is both surprised such words came out of her mouth, but she feels he needed it instead of her dainty insults like meanie.
"Perhaps I should go, Lace." She reached her muzzle towards his shoulder. A goodbye gesture? Perhaps the option of leaving was thrown out there so she could let the stallion just think. It seemed that was what he needed, to be honest. Dröm waited to see if he would agree that she should leave. Despite the ravenous thunder and cracks of lightning, if it pleased Lace for her to leave, she would. Dröm would not fight back, her small form would not even last a light kick.
"blah blah blah."
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[P] Silver trinkets and golden leather
![[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/photo/action/view_image/photo_link/53d6f2ea9010d)
