wounded is the deer that leaps highest

wounded is the deer that leaps highest

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE

RayoDeSoleil

01-11-2013, 07:27 PM

"I miss you," she had said, and a part of her hated herself for the futile weakness that she had portrayed, even here. And yet in her weakness she had found release. A soft sigh drifted through the darkness, and even such a quiet noise threatened to overwhelm her. The silence that had been so daunting but a moment ago was her refuge now. What would he say, her dream-King? Would he bend to her will, as her dreams so often threatened to do, or would he diverge from the norm, act as his real self might?

It was difficult to tell what was real and what was not, which direction was up and which was down. If she swam with this current, would she drown under its weight? Or would she emerge, strong and whole, newly reborn and ready to return? And still she waited, watched in a breathless silence, fearing that he would disappear, fearing that he would move, fearing that he would speak... but she wanted him, too, wanted him to say something, anything. What did she want him to say, really? Perhaps whatever came next would be truth, for even in her wildest fantasies, she hadn't experienced this, nor given it much thought. What would happen now that she had shown weakness?

"Oh god, Psyche." His words were a groan, laden with longing. He had taken a step forward, mirroring her own movements, but her, too, stopped. They were balanced on the edge of a vast precipice; one misstep and they would plunge to their deaths below, become lost in the darkness. Would that be so bad? she wondered. Wouldn't it be easier to just... stop... fighting...? She was ashamed, then, that such a thought would cross her mind, even in sleep. She had always been a fighter, always would be. But what was she so damn determined to fight? Surely not the stallion that would have stood beside her, helped her attain her goals. What did she stand to gain from fighting him?

She was angry, suddenly, furious at herself. She had pushed him away, no, ran from him, when he could only serve to better her cause - when he could only make her stronger. When she wanted him to help her. But wanting had been foreign, and so she had sought escape. It was stupid, she realized. I was stupid. It was a revelation for she who was so sure of her actions. She was dimly aware that she was afraid as she forced herself forward, took a few shuffling steps, halted again. She was much nearer - had she really covered such a distance? - close enough that she could almost reach out and touch him. If she tried, would he be there? Or would she only shatter the illusion? She dared not try.

She drew a deep breath. "What I wouldn't give to return..." Was that defeat in his voice? Don't give up, she wanted to say. Come back to us. Back to... me. The words stuck in her throat. "But I cannot find the way." She yearned to go to him, to press her muzzle against his skin, to breath in his scent. She longed to lead him from the darkness, to awake with him beside her. Would it be an illusion to wake up and be granted the only thing she wanted? Was it be folly to think that she could admit to her weakness in her waking life? "If I could lead you home..." Her voice trailed off. If she could lead him home, then what? Would it even make a difference?