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Apparently sheep and rocks have some thing in common; counting my pebbles sends me off to sleep. I tumble head over heels into the deep abyss of slumber. My lips part in the whisper of a snore and from my color stained maw the pebble slips. It tumbles and rolls; it flops and bounces. Never in all of time has a single pebble made such a clatter. My eyes flash open and in not a breaths span clamp shut in pain.
"Mitte vero." Da mihi in quietem.
It is dreadful to be so sensitive to the light of day and the vibrance it brings. I can vaguely remember my time as a foal. I remember the fiery sunsets and the benevolent spring skies, the memories of brilliant green grasses kissing pastel sky never left my mind. Elivian is a land of no color, all in it exists in various shades of grey to be seen.My faint memory of colors taunted me whilst I had been away from this realm, they had eaten at me with an intense longing. Now in a cruel twist of fate I am once more surrounded by color, but it brings me intense headaches.
My head throbs as I settle a seething look upon the now settled pebble. I almost expect it to hop up and proceed into a tap dance as an encore for its earlier hit of a racket. If anyone was near my tuck away corner behind a cluster of willows has been given away. Warily I watch to see if any approach. Brows furrowed I do my best to formulate some sort of greeting. Possibly along with some sort of explanation for why I am acting like a recluse. My scrambling about for words frustrates me; why afterall, do I owe anyone an explanation?
@[Tilney] sorry for the wait!
Translation:
"Mitte vero"||"Give it a rest."
Da mihi.. || Give me a rest