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Zandora's ears settled in a relaxed stance, the chill of the night brushing across her ebonite coat. The purple locks in her hair delicately swirling with the breath of the Wind. It was such a strange day, night, week, everything that was paused in her life only days ago had quickly come back to life and honestly Zandora was heavily burdened by this weight upon her shoulders. There was so much more behind her cold facade, so much more to the mysterious mare with the purple horn and hooves. She had created the supernova of inner turmoil inside herself and it was slowly consuming her. She was so used to using her default- ignoring the pain and pushing it away, that when she arrived to a new world and new everything, she felt as if she had to face it and Zandora simply, didn't know how.

Her eyes reflected this sadness, this deep depression that was laced within her soul. Some part of her -the part unaffected by the growing nova inside- thanked the young cloven hoofed stallion. He was somehow inadvertently drawing something out of her, bringing her to face herself in ways that she cowered at before. There was no quick fix for her, she was still going to be blunt, be rude, and try to become the top, but Ashamin deserved to see a softer side of her, after all, he was the source of this sudden and unexpected change in herself.

Ashamin begun speaking and her violet eyes fell upon his face with a softness(still rather emotionless, but still softer then usual) that had never been seen before (well not after the day) and she listened as he spoke, his voice slowly exposing the insecurity of speaking about such a topic. A thing they had in common, speaking about her past was something that she was so closed off to and uncomfortable about. To the point she regretted asking him such a question, because she knew she'd be asked the same. And knowing that she tired to be above cowardly and shy, she would speak of something she vowed not long ago, never to talk about.

She paused for a moment after Ashamin had finished his story, she felt like there was more to his story, her answer didn't satisfy her much, but as Zandora reminded herself, satisfaction was not to be judged by the eyes of herself, when the story is in the eyes of another. Her ears flicked back and twitched has he spoke the dreaded words "what is your story, Zandora?" Her eyes searched the landscape around her, as if for a moment, she was looking for a way out. Then Zandora came back to herself and shook her black cloaked head, as if she was disowning herself for showing fret and nervousness. "Your story is interesting...I suppose. I do wish to know more, but I will save you the misery." She said with a low chuckle, as if everything was suddenly fine.

Was it? Was everything truly fine?

"My story is one of abandonment, pain, isolation, and horror. My story is one that you tell the children to scare them into safety." She said with a tone slowly sliding down from deep and beautiful to pained and scared. Her eyes looked almost freakishly still, as she felt herself become consumed in memories, it was grasping her heart and clawing with metallic blades of misery. She continued to speak, or at least she thought she was, Zandora could not be sure. "I was kidnapped----little child, heir to t-t-throne." Her words were spilt and strange, as if she was playing a film and the connection to herself and reality was breaking. "Sold off---to to-demons, tortured and-" Zandora didn't finish for she felt the slip, the great slip, that she had only felt once before. Everything around her became dark and she felt alone, and words of the brutes who had killed her and revived her everyday until she became nothing but a mindless slave, boomed in her ears.

She said nothing, she did nothing, she was nothing. She felt the heat of her consciousness as she snapped at herself. Wasn't she the Zandora? Wasn't she a mare who could never be touched by fear and laughed when it came near? No, she wasn't the anything. She was nothing.

Zandora's eyes blinked as she found herself looking around in a world where the wind was cool and the crickets played a melody of love. Everything seemed larger then before and she realized she had fallen, and slowly it all came back to her. 'What the hell had happened to her? Who the hell was this mare flooded by emotions and fear?' She thought confusedly. She raised her eyes to a cloven hoofed Ashamin, in what reflected within them was a pure

broken,

Zandora.


No longer could she hide. The devil had found the crack in her armor and oh how he would take his pence of revenge. There would be no more shadows to hide under, she was fully exposed, and fully unaware on how to save herself. Her time had come, and there was no way out.

OCC: I don't even know what to think about this. It's a lllll over the place, and I'm sorry if you have a hard time reading this. I think I finally settled into her character and know how I'm going to play her from here on out. I hope this is okay, I know it's very dramatic, but it sort of happened and I just went with it.
Tag: @[Ashamin]
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