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Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
I'm dead inside.
Anger and sadness follow hot on the heels of her outburst, but it would not stop there. No, it was a dam, broken and jagged her rib-cage had split asunder and everything she hid from the world was pouring out. Dripping, slowly, with agonizing ferocity so as to frighten the logical part of her mind. This girl, just barely larger than her was a nuisance, a pest that droned against the fur of her ears. They drew back against the dark leather of sweat-laced skin, black mane snapped as she threw up her head and widened her stance. She could not simply blow out her sides in reality, but the space in her mind exploded with confidence. "I am more than you will ever know, or that you will ever be and THAT, I do not think, I know." Lie. Twinges of pain scurry down a stiff spine and she knows that when this ends she will regret, but she is not finished. She inhales sharply "my manners? Says the cur that lets her bonded feast without mind nor matter, taking no account for her actions and having the gumption to speak larger than she is!"
Sialia would be appalled, she would be duly punished and for good reason. This is not the behavior graced upon her since the day of her birth, this was not the attitude the great Corporal ingrained into her youngest child. This was the raw face of pain and dismal loneliness, manifesting through anger and bitterness that this... this girl! Had so easily stolen out of her. It was impossible to withhold, there was no sense arguing. There was no chance to go back, she was furious, she was livid and fighting a losing battle. She would insult this filly and get hurt, she did not stand a chance and she knew it, yet still she goaded, still she spit fire and brimstone. Bathsheba lifted a single hind-leg, long, unusually long, pain ripped through her sides - she released it in a vicious strike against the water, sending a sharp, popping spray against both foals and the rocks.
@Oizys
Sialia would be appalled, she would be duly punished and for good reason. This is not the behavior graced upon her since the day of her birth, this was not the attitude the great Corporal ingrained into her youngest child. This was the raw face of pain and dismal loneliness, manifesting through anger and bitterness that this... this girl! Had so easily stolen out of her. It was impossible to withhold, there was no sense arguing. There was no chance to go back, she was furious, she was livid and fighting a losing battle. She would insult this filly and get hurt, she did not stand a chance and she knew it, yet still she goaded, still she spit fire and brimstone. Bathsheba lifted a single hind-leg, long, unusually long, pain ripped through her sides - she released it in a vicious strike against the water, sending a sharp, popping spray against both foals and the rocks.
@Oizys
