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Sheba
You are surprised when he scolds you, in a voice so paternal it aches. Not that you would know the love of a father if it turned into a serpent and bit you on the nose, though you’ve hungered for it all your life. Still, his reprimand silences you for a moment as it catches you off guard, and it is then that you finally receive a name to put to the face that has plagued your nightmares for the past three seasons. “The god of the sun?” you rasp, half-doubtfully…yet half-wondering. “God of the sun, my—” Another coughing fit interrupts your would-be unladylike outburst. Could it be? You’ve never been much of one to believe in gods (or kings either, for that matter), but these are strange lands with strong magic. “What did he do to me?” you finally wheeze when the coughing has subsided. “This, monsieur, this!” you hiss, gesturing at your own emaciated body in disgust. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me, but I was a great beauty once.” Your tone grows bitter again at the revelation, for by now the truth seems far-fetched even to you. How long has it been since your pale hide was soft and smooth, your hollowed ribs full with the skin stretched beautifully over your slim barrel? How long since your hair was luxurious, weighed down by heavy braids and delicate ornaments? In truth, the ornaments are all that remain, and they only serve to make a mockery of you with their ethereal beauty so out of place in your ratted mane. And it seems that the pegasus mare has noticed them. At first, she looks confused when you mention Dragomir’s name, but soon enough, your meaning becomes apparent to her. From the ground, you watch impatiently as the thought dawns on her and recognition sets her wide eyes alight. “He’s a friend,” Aly tells you, in a tone so sickeningly soothing that it actually comforts you. “I live in the Edge with him.” Dragomir, you think with a strange touch of fondness. If only you weren’t so terribly ugly, you would have liked to see him again. However, Aly’s affirmation mollifies you, and you decide that you might as well let this pair help you. By now you are sure that they are no threat to you, and quite truthfully, you’re rather beginning to enjoy their attentions. “Well,” you mutter begrudgingly, “If you’re going to help me, you might as well get on with it. I can’t get up on my own, you know.” Painstakingly, you stretch your neck out and try to shift your weight. If they can help you roll onto your belly, perhaps you can get your legs under you, and with their assistance, rise. You suppose that you can put off dying for another day. "talk talk talk" Not to be obnoxious, just tagging @[Alysanne] since it's been a bit and it's easy to lose track! OOC: Sorry she's such a poop xD |
Please tag Sheba in all posts!
