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10-24-2012, 01:24 PM
Invading. Close. Too close. The mare stared at the creatures around her, coming closer and closer. These were not spirits. They were made of flesh and blood. Like her. The red stallion and another - colored like sand - talked about digging her a grave or leaving her in the cold. Why? Oh yeah, she deserved to die. She was crazy. Unwanted. That's right, unwanted. A black equine in the background tried to participate in the crowd as well, but his silent shadow stayed back there in the woods. Suddenly, the others came. Two pegasus mares, both fully unknown to the mare just like the stallions. She looked at them - no, stared at them. Why so many? Why around her? Never around her. Always away. The silver one with black wings layed down beside her, covering the mare's body with one wing. What was she doing? Was she crazy as well? No one could be crazy. Not like her. The mare. She had almost forgotten her name by now. "Keep the grip of sanity. Fight the demons with all your strength. Please mare, stay your mind. I am a friend." The mare slung her head and watched the silver mare. "S-sanity? D-demons? No demo-o-ons." She couldn't pronounce the words right, thus her stuttering. If only they spoke her language. The language of the lost souls. "Frie-iend?" A questioning look came over the mare's dual colored eyes, and she laughed. The laugh she voiced was rasping and dark, coming from the bottom of her throat. Friends? She didn't have friends. She'd never had friends. "No friends. Alone. Spirrrrits.", the mare mumbled and looked down. Then she turned her gaze towards the buckskin pegasus. She didn't make any noises. Good. The mare looked at the red stallion again, as he answered and asked a question. "I am Cyrus of the Foothills. And uh, who you?" The mare looked at him. Cyrus... What a strange name. But, these were strange creatures after all. She tried to remember as the red one asked for her name, probably her home as well. She had no home no more. "Verenia. Name is Verenia Rinta, birthed in the Valea de vrăjitoare." She couldn't translate the name of the place she had been born in, since she had never learned the true name of her h-home. No home. There was no such thing as a home. Word count: 400-ish OOC: Finally squeezed out a post >.> This will probably be my only one... Walk, walk, walk. "Talk, talk, talk." 'Think, think, think.' | ||
