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07-08-2016, 10:28 PM
I've never been a rich man
And that was how the west was won
And that was how the west was won
Magic, her? The very thought was enough to pull a small spurt of laughter from her lungs. Magic! No, Bathsheba was not designed for magic, her body was far too weak and her bones fragile from a disease nobody asked for. Yet there was no denying the sadness underlying her falsely spun amusement, it was difficult to avoid and even harder to hide. This was a skill the patchwork child had yet to master and it was no easy task, struggling daily to keep the dark webs away from the small blossom of joy in her heart.
"There will never be magic for me, not really." She finally replied, lips curling into the image of a smile while her chest heaved under an onslaught of depression. There was no reason to drag this creature into her dreary life, and it was also impossible without seeming rude. Where was that fine line Sialia tried to point at in their lessons? Where was the bridge she might gently try to cross without invading the other side? "I have a disease that makes me too weak, I can hardly stand most days let alone have magic." her nostrils flared and the painted child swung the length of her tail up and away from the waves. "But I like to see other people's magic, I like... dark things, shadows are nice. But so is the light?" Which was true both ways, distract. Do... something else! Do something! But what? She reached for something, the proper tactic to employ and found it slipping away. Far, far away and suddenly she looked at the mare in brief discomfort. Control, she needed control, there was no place for weakness and confusion in the world.
@Syrena
"There will never be magic for me, not really." She finally replied, lips curling into the image of a smile while her chest heaved under an onslaught of depression. There was no reason to drag this creature into her dreary life, and it was also impossible without seeming rude. Where was that fine line Sialia tried to point at in their lessons? Where was the bridge she might gently try to cross without invading the other side? "I have a disease that makes me too weak, I can hardly stand most days let alone have magic." her nostrils flared and the painted child swung the length of her tail up and away from the waves. "But I like to see other people's magic, I like... dark things, shadows are nice. But so is the light?" Which was true both ways, distract. Do... something else! Do something! But what? She reached for something, the proper tactic to employ and found it slipping away. Far, far away and suddenly she looked at the mare in brief discomfort. Control, she needed control, there was no place for weakness and confusion in the world.
@Syrena
