the Rift


[PRIVATE] SN: what have I done

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#1
I’m already in too deep

I hadn’t really understood what I had signed up for; everyone seemed to be doing it, and I didn’t want to draw attention by refusing an invitation to their event. I suppose I had thought I could breeze by just enough to not be noticed, and then slip away as quietly as I had come. I just wanted to seem normal (not like I had a burning, writhing ball in my chest at the very mention of a social event, like holding a regular conversation didn’t leave me mentally gasping for air).

Unfortunately, I’m one of the first to arrive, it would seem. With my head lowered, I look around from beneath my lashes, wordlessly admiring the beauty of the decorations and acknowledging the time someone obviously put into this (even if I don’t care to appreciate it myself). Eventually my eyes find the list—a list and a name tag. Suddenly I feel my heart leap into my throat, pounding and screaming and thrashing. So...someone is actually looking for me? For me? Someone with know if I leave? All of a sudden I’m warring between the facade of politeness and my innate desire to run.

Trying to swallow past the tightness of my throat while my breath hitches like a gasp in my throat, I try not to think too much. Ignoring the trembling of my legs, I snatch my ‘name tag’ and shuffle into a dark corner, lowering my head so that my hair falls like a curtain between me and other wandering eyes. I can feel them (ignore it, ignore it). I try counting my breaths as a distraction.


“Speech.”
We build it up, we tear it down
We leave our pieces on the ground

image credits
@December
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Myrrine Posts: 179
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 3 (Orangemoon) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Watermel0nBob
#2
Myrrine

She was slow in her approach, quiet among them all as she slowly slipped past the group and up to the main group, looking up at the hosts before swiftly grabbing her name tag and managing to place it on her chest. She blinked, looking to see who she was matched with, before turning her head and beginning to read every tag that was on there. As she walked among the crowd of happy singles, she couldn't help but continue to have trouble finding the one she was paired with. She was about to give up until she saw a pretty girl in the corner, keeping to herself and seeming not at all confident about this.

She smiled sweetly, slowly making her approach with a kindness in her eyes,"Are you perchance Mihtal? My name is Myrrine, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her eyes roamed over the beautiful mare, seeing that she obviously wasn't comfortable. Keeping her distance she stood next to her at a safe distance, hazel eyes filled with warmth as she continued,"May I stand here? I certainly don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable. What would you like to talk about?" She waited patiently, wings fluttering delicately along her back as she kept her curious gaze on the fellow mare.

"Talk."

the butterfly is proof that great darkness
can create great beauty

@Mihtal - forgive the delay!
Any force is permitted aside from death or maiming
PLEASE TAG ME IN POSTS! :3

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#3
If life were kind, then I would be able to slip away...I would be able to melt into the shadows and flee far away from here (from reality) and become lost in the wildness of my own mind. Of course, if life were truly just that kind, then there would be a lot of things different (I would never have put myself in this situation in the first place, I wouldn’t have the scars of hungry men carved across my back, and I would still have the one thing that has ever given me true happiness). No—life is not kind. It is not fair, and it is certainly not predictable.

I focus on my breaths, trying not to pay attention to the tightness in my throat, and how it hitches every inhale like a gasp (a soundless, tearless sob). I can hear the pounding of my heart, feel it against my ribs, and if it were possible for me to throw up, then I would already be gagging. I’m in too deep. I lament, crying pity for myself among the hum of pleasant conversations and this sweet, fanciful atmosphere.

The sudden arrival of someone else startles me. I hadn’t noticed her among the other crowd of bodies, too preoccupied with trying to disappear, and shoulder the weight that twists painfully in my chest. I gasp with a shudder that shivers down my spine, the curtain of my forelock surging to the side as I lift my head in a quick and graceless motion. She asks if I’m Mihtal (and I can tell by her cheery demeanor that she does not know my language, does not know the title of disgrace and shame that I have been branded with).

“Yes,” I nearly stutter, resisting the urge to lie. “Myrrine, isn’t it?” I ask her with a quick tone that perhaps can be perceived as cold, but I really just want to get it over with—already I feel my head swirling dizzyingly, her next words almost lost against the barricades I’ve built. “Umm...” I can feel my breaths becoming quicker, more urgent, and I try to quell the panic in an effort of normalcy. “Where are you from?” I barely register what it is I’ve said...I just want the attention off of me.


notes; I know I went a little over the word count, I'm sorry!<33 I'll try to be better.
“Speech.”
We build it up, we tear it down
We leave our pieces on the ground

image credits
@Myrrine
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Myrrine Posts: 179
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 3 (Orangemoon) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Watermel0nBob
#4
Myrrine

She had startled her, but instead of mirroring the feeling she remained motionless, smiling as the mare tried to sort out her feelings. She understood it, could recognize the signs of insecurity and fear. She was the same way sometimes, it made her sad to think about, but it was true. Instead she lowered her head, eyes looking kindly to her and flicking away every so often so as not to intimidate her. As she sputtered out her words Myrrine only nodded, showing she was listening and cared, before smiling and continuing in a more hushed tone,"I'm from the Dragon's Throat. And you Miss Mihtal?"

As she silently waited for the question, her eyes scanned the area, making sure no other horses got too close for this mare's comfort. She needed space and time, and it seemed that the longer the focus was on her the worst it was. She began to breathe slowly and deeply, keeping a relaxed yet casual expression while waiting, hoping that this mare would instinctively match her rhythm of breathing. She didn't want to yet address her panic, because it might make it worse, but she would do what she could, and so with her hazel eyes filled with kindness she waited patiently for an answer to her question.

"Talk."

the butterfly is proof that great darkness
can create great beauty

image


@Mihtal
Any force is permitted aside from death or maiming
PLEASE TAG ME IN POSTS! :3

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#5
I don’t make eye contact with the butterfly-winged mare, instead preferring to occasionally glance her way through the corner of my eye, wishing that I could disappear behind the curtain of my hair again—or disappear completely. This is so silly, I chide myself, it’s just a casual, normal conversation. But of course, it’s been too long since I’ve been comfortable enough to withstand an interaction without it leaving me both mentally and emotionally drained. I could say that I can’t remember the last time—but that would be a lie.

Much to my despair, there is little that I have forgotten.

Myrrine seems nice enough, at least. Maybe even a little bit too nice. You might argue that there could be no such thing, but I suspect with the way she glances at me occasionally—as though I’m a wounded bird—she has noticed my distress (I haven’t been very modest about it), and is trying her very best to put me at ease. I’ve seen it before. I would rather her treat me as she would anyone else, like normal, as though she hasn’t noticed anything amiss.

But I know that the mare is only doing it out of the goodness of her heart, and I cannot fault her for that, as bitter as my caged heart is. So I try to swallow this warped, broken sense of pride that I have, and attempt to straighten my posture so that I don’t seem quite as fragile (nevermind the mess of splinters that my glass heart has become).

“The Dragon’s Throat as well,” I answer Myrrine plainly, trying to offer her some semblance of a smile—but it feels hollow and out of place, wrong on my lips. I allow it to drop before it wilts into a scowl, briefly tucking my head into my chest as I clear my throat (my breath is hot and shuddering against my skin). Awkwardly I force myself to look at the other mare, perhaps too intense with my eye contact now. “I just came to Helovia, actually. I haven’t been here for very long,” I shift my weight, exhaling heavily from my nostrils.

“Speech.”
We build it up, we tear it down
We leave our pieces on the ground

image credits
@Myrrine
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.


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