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11-03-2014, 08:16 PM
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"You spin me right round, baby." She hasn’t seen you? Yeah, you’ve been a little busy murdering things and then trying to act like you know what is going on and attempting to be in charge and now struggling to deal with the fact that you have no plants left and you’re going to have to deal with this all season. Does winter ever end? Why does it even have to start? All of these are questions, of course, that have no real answer. They’re just the kind of questions that plague you in your unrest, reminding you how vulnerable you are here in the snow. Some general, can’t even get by without his precious plants. At least Snowflake, as she walks up to you, is some small form of relief. If your mind was more coherent (or if you had more normal feelings) you might worry about whether or not she saw you harassing the trees, fumbling about, and other such chaotic motions. Except you’re Oxy, so you aren’t exactly coherent and you couldn’t care less if she saw you acting a fool anyways. She knew you were like this long before you stole her away in the darkness, long before she begged you not to leave her, long before you opened your heart to her and put your trust in the fact that she would not tear it to shreds. So today, as you’re feeling slightly sentimental and very alone, you accept her help, let her sidle up next to you and take her shoulder as support. As the obvious romantic you are, you disregard the fact that she probably doesn’t want a large, sweaty, smelly, dirty draft stallion leaning on her. Of course, back when you first met her at the Threshold she probably didn’t want a large, sweaty, smelly, dirt draft stallion telling her that she was crazy but… things seemed to work out okay between then and now. As she suggest that you stop- she’s so gentle the way she words it, perhaps knowing that you don’t take well to commands- your mind slowly churns through the words, trying to decide if you should agree or not. But you’re not given much choice as she angles in front of you. Half stopping, half kind of crashing into her, you halt your forward motion. “Sorry,” you sort of mumble, though your head never really stops moving. Gentle bobs and swinging back and forth give you something to do as your hooves spread wide beneath you, trying to keep you standing. “Snowflake,” you coo softly as you lower your nose, lipping at her mane when your swinging about brings your lips near to her neck. “What am I going to do?” The admittance of the fact that you are broken hangs in the air between you. It is an admittance for nobody but her. Nobody else needs to know how much you need your drugs. @[Elsa] |
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
