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Code:
Coding by Tamme
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Dröm
the Raconteur She was not standing there. She was on her side, her small frame laying on it's side. Her head faced the entrance, so she may see who enters. She was nervous, weary, but far too tired to stand. It'd been at least two days with no sleep, but she was on edge now. Constantly she worried about murderers and evil. Would they come for the small, golden, Arabian next? She had no one to cry to. She had no one to say "I love you" to. This wasn't all that was needed in life, but as everyone around her had a family and foals and love, but she felt as if she was too inadequate for anyone. No one went for scrappy seconds-- they went for their first choice. She was no one's first choice, thus she was left alone to fear for her life in solitude. Snow piled up by the entrance, and soon enough it would block the entrance, but she made no move to leave. She did not want to risk hiking through the blizzard that raged outside. She would stay still, waiting out the storm-- even if it meant being trapped in here. Would more horses join her, only to grow stuck? She thought of Lace, or Mr Silverthorn as she had called him. He had trapped her in the rotunda by using magic to force the earth to sprout a thorny rosebush by the entrance. But now, she willingly stayed. She allowed herself to grow prisoner in the warmth of the icy cave. She did not want to freeze out there. But only one question remained. Who would join the Storyteller? "talk talk talk" @[Bucephalus] |
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