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08-08-2016, 12:50 AM
Juggernauts screaming to a stop
Sound like devils are laughing
Scent tempt you more, the growing feeling of discomfort boiling in your chest. Quite possibly, it could be that you have stumbled upon the home of a large society, with their numbers spread but their body count high, littered across this place and maybe even further?
At this point in time, you don’t know the irony of your thoughts, or how true they are. There are many more bodies to this place than you expect, and in the future, there is the chance that if you ever come to grow the ability to chuckle out of humor(something that is still very foreign, the world has set emotions and humor is an odd one to you) to the current situation.
But that is far off in time, and you don’t ever think for the future. Your brain is set to the present and to what you know, things such as there are a thousand bodies that you cannot see but surely can smell. Your experience with herds and their complexes within them is bleak. You understand nothing else than that they are groupings of people, together for reasons they feel are right. It’s not your thing to question. What you know comes from your herd, and for that, you have gone ahead and accepted that this place doesn’t wish to welcome you. You’re already uneasy enough; it’s time to leave.
That is exactly what you’re doing when the child arrives. Hooves and legs are entangling themselves at your constant slow pace as you turn, batting your eyes once as you take a deep picture of the woods ahead of you. Should you fly, or should you walk? Which one will ease your burden more and with better speed. You and Vaphuine already know the answer to that question, but your wings have quenched themselves with a light sweat. The rest of your small frame has done the same. You don’t actually welcome the heat, but then again you tend to not to change your thoughts at all at the steep of the temperature.
The woods will have to welcome you whether they like to or not. You need to go, and that is simply the only way to flee.
Her voice is shrill, a vibrant, uproaring testament to the voice that you sometimes forget that you too own. It pipes out a greeting, but is it turned to you? Does she want something to do with you? Surely not, little Kiada’s mother must of noted her that some people are worth the words, and you are sure that is you, Skeyti.
But, she has captured you in the act of leaving and you were lonely. Or were you really? Is it just now fleeing you because someone has addressed your otherwise invisible existence?
You give her your head, moving your head around at the same, slow pace as you always have done, pushing petite black ears forward to show that she has your attention as snowflake lashes sweep downwards over midnight blue eyes. She is a pretty little thing, baring you a smile that you would have smiled back at if you were expressive. It seems to take up her entire face and body, beaming out in the golden hues of her body. There is even a bird wi-
It hurts to look at it, so you focus on the child and try not to think about it. Too soon since you messed up, another life you’ve unwillingly managed to take due to your cursed soul and string of bad luck. You don’t think about what it would have been like if it lived despite the want to. Would you be close? Would you fly toge-
Stop that.
She gives you something new to think over as a new body enters. This one is much like yourself: winged, small, feminine in the body, but there are indeed differences that separate you. You don’t take time on her like you do the child. Only a gracious nod and turned ears that you believe show little ill intention to their action.
The nature of the babe’s question makes you think that she believes you will stay here. You are nomadic, free, an ever moving body that crosses continents on four grey hooves and oceans with a pair of black wings. You cannot stay here. They wouldn’t want you here, now would they? Not if they knew what you were.
Puzzlement pulls over you, now having turned completely to face both of them. Your head draws inward and your ear drip slightly, lips tightening. There isn’t an exact response to this as your head begins to hurt due to the overwhelming action of thoughts. It pushes the inner walls of your skull and encourages you to leave even more, but you would like to keep your manners.
Children are odd, fickle things that you have no experience with other than the short amount of time spent with your withering wombmate whose name never met the world(if he had one), and the companionship of the colt that you had clung to so strongly, who in the end aided you in deciding upon this lifestyle. By some off chance that you are to cause this child to weep small, youthful tears, there is the possibility you will have to flee, and moving quickly is not your thing. The other one could easily follow you on their wings as well.
So, finally, after some odd moments of lack of exchange other than your short expression of bewilderment, you tilt your cranium to one side before ending on shaking it. “No, I’m not new. I’m not staying,” you attempt to physically display.
In the meantime, you have managed to let something coax you into this situation deeper. Something is not fully correct with this vocal filly. It draws you in like you know you shouldn’t, taking small, hesitant steps, the occasional glance at the girl’s companionship who is obviously not her mother by appearance’s sake, never grasping eye contact from either of them.
And what you find is, well, this child is on fire.
Vaphuine might as well tear through the white marking on your chest and leave you entirely. Your small hooves shrimper against the grass that you know notice is very dry and brittle beneath you, not worth the meal you had been previously craving and now completely forgotten.
Why is the child on fire? Is it my fault?
The bird doesn’t seem bothered, but you definitely are. You push upon your fellow sister in species an open mouth and sunken ears, drawn wings and tail tucked between your legs, asking for explanation and assistance because dear Viyrn, this child is on fucking fire.
“Help.” That is the first word that you have blurted in two full cycles of the moon and its changing of many bodies. Help because you don’t know if you should touch the bird and thrash the flames with your wings till they disperse but possibly burn yourself in the process. Help because you are scared, confused, glued to a child that happened upon you that could die and go to you for blame, because you have no idea what to do and why this is even happening in the first place.
Nallicus could also be here for Vaphuine though, playing a trick on you. What an embarrassment that would be, but there is that chance that you could fly away on the feeling and excuse of shame, and not have to look back.
Yes, please let it be Nallicus.
OOC: Apologies for such a wait! Things should go much quicker now as I'm starting to get a good grasp on her and have found good muse music for to make her easier to write.
somehow light up when I'm with you
