Re: And how does that make you feel?
Posted: Sun Aug 22, 2010 5:21 pm
She glanced up as the look of surprise she'd seen in his face showed in his words, making him speak in an arrested voice. A knowing sadness radiated from her eyes as she looked at him, wishing desperately that she could somehow spare him this fumbling pain. He had a good heart, or at the least he seemed to.
"I suppose it would be a little blasphemous to have something so large happen only to forget about it in the end."
She looked passed him to the bush as the ladybug again took flight, landing this time on Avalanche's cheek. It was an interesting looking plant, but if you looked - if you really looked, you could see the pain of it all, still there and lingering. It was a survivor; there would never be any getting rid of what happened. It wouldn't leave, the pain would never fade entirely. And more than growing uniquely, the bush would always bear a mark from what had happened, even if the tree were moved now. It was branded, something that had been broken and refused to die from it.
It was a sad truth, for her eyes. But the bush couldn't hold her gaze. She looked again to the pale stallion, enjoying the cool air he hugged to himself even as he realized that it had seeped in to poison his mind, to strangle the life from his essence.
But did he realize it now, really? Could he see a true depth of it within him, or would this moment, like so many others, be lost within the cold confines of distance? She understood her bonded better, now, understood why the strange creature gently pushed and demanded that she and all the others be honest with themselves at the least.
How deeply had his thoughts, his realizations, touched him? Had he let down all the cold distance that shielded him, let it strike true and deep, let himself be fully honest in his own mind and heart? Had she? She thought she had, that she'd stopped running from herself, but she was so exhausted inside, so numb from all of it, that it was hard to tell. Would it still bear the same weight in the morning?
The tree weighed just as heavy on the bush now as it had the day before. But that didn't mean that the bush would allow itself to be as aware of it as it had been then.
"I'm done," she proclaimed, her voice flat and final as she turned to stare up at the sky, holding in a few lingering tears that shimmered in her eyes. "No more distance for me. No more trying to run from parts of myself, no more fooling myself and splintering because of it. No more." She shook her head, taking a shaky breath as her eyes slid closed, almost as if preparing for some great feat. "No more," she murmured.
She, at least, would finally be strong enough to face off with it - all of it, no picking what she should be, where she should go. She had to face herself, be honest with herself, if nothing else. It was clear now, rather unexpectedly, why her bonded insisted on it from her, all of them. She was gentle about it, but insist she did, with an occasional smack upside the head for those who wanted to try and sneer down at her for it. Flint, she had heard, had needed several of these smacks, before she earned his respect as well, made him face off with himself and prove he was strong enough to stand against the truth inside him.
No more acting strong. Time to be strong. Time to be honest with herself.
"That's where you start," she whispered, looking again at this stallion that blanketed her in the cool touch that made her all the more aware of moisture in the air. "You start with one step, and from there you just.. Keep moving. I can't think of where, I can't choose. Just move. Grow. For me, this is the first step. I was running from it, distancing myself from.. Myself, trying to choose a single option, one piece. But no more. I swear it."
Her voice shook slightly as she said as much, but her eyes blazed fiercely. She was scared, beyond scared. One of her bonded's favorite sayings was that we fool ourselves so much we could make a living of it; or at least, most do. She was done fooling herself and knew exactly what that meant. She would find out just how often she had been fooling herself, would be forcing herself to see how much of a change it was, how many things would be different as she ripped the blindfold off her heart and eyes. A frolic in the flowers under a spring drizzle would no longer be as simple or innocent, not with such brutal honesty within her.
But it would mean more, because of it. And she was determined not to fail.
She hoped Avalanche would find a similar strength, eventually. She hoped he'd reach towards others, allow them to help him make sense of what he saw within him as he stopped hiding in that distance. She hoped this weak trembling in her heart as hope took root again after so long of being gone or bringing nothing but pain would only be the first in a very long run of changes that helped guide her back to living. Back to the light.
She had run out of words and let the silence spin out, her eyes soft and unfocused. Taking a breath, she tensed and swallowed hard, feeling her throat work nervously as she scrambled to her feet, crossing the starting point of the rest of her life. Frolic was strong, inside and out, and would get through it, but in no way would it be easy. She could accept that. Shaking the grasses from her coat, she looked towards the stallion and offered a small, bright smile - the first real smile to cross her face, one that wasn't an empty shadow, in so long she couldn't remember the last.
"I know of a good fruit tree not far from here. Getting my life back on track has made me hungry beyond all reason. Want to walk with me, my friend?"
It would take a while to settle comfortably into this new change, into living once again. But she would manage. Right now here eyes stung terribly from the tears she'd shed and her throat was dry and tight from fear, pain and crying. Soon, when she felt recovered enough, she'd examine the little pieces with the harsh and blunt eye of truth. And she'd keep moving, would grow through the pain with what she had, with all that she was and all that had happened. With a cruel and unfiltered truth of her own self. Now that the decision was made it seemed absurd that she had ever been so torn, that she had ever tried to distance herself in such a way. The thought of hiding was purely laughable; and really, what was this distance, the kind that had ripped her or the kind that had smothered the stallion, other than sheer hiding? Hiding from the very truths they carried with them always.
She was through hiding.
No more.
"I suppose it would be a little blasphemous to have something so large happen only to forget about it in the end."
She looked passed him to the bush as the ladybug again took flight, landing this time on Avalanche's cheek. It was an interesting looking plant, but if you looked - if you really looked, you could see the pain of it all, still there and lingering. It was a survivor; there would never be any getting rid of what happened. It wouldn't leave, the pain would never fade entirely. And more than growing uniquely, the bush would always bear a mark from what had happened, even if the tree were moved now. It was branded, something that had been broken and refused to die from it.
It was a sad truth, for her eyes. But the bush couldn't hold her gaze. She looked again to the pale stallion, enjoying the cool air he hugged to himself even as he realized that it had seeped in to poison his mind, to strangle the life from his essence.
But did he realize it now, really? Could he see a true depth of it within him, or would this moment, like so many others, be lost within the cold confines of distance? She understood her bonded better, now, understood why the strange creature gently pushed and demanded that she and all the others be honest with themselves at the least.
How deeply had his thoughts, his realizations, touched him? Had he let down all the cold distance that shielded him, let it strike true and deep, let himself be fully honest in his own mind and heart? Had she? She thought she had, that she'd stopped running from herself, but she was so exhausted inside, so numb from all of it, that it was hard to tell. Would it still bear the same weight in the morning?
The tree weighed just as heavy on the bush now as it had the day before. But that didn't mean that the bush would allow itself to be as aware of it as it had been then.
"I'm done," she proclaimed, her voice flat and final as she turned to stare up at the sky, holding in a few lingering tears that shimmered in her eyes. "No more distance for me. No more trying to run from parts of myself, no more fooling myself and splintering because of it. No more." She shook her head, taking a shaky breath as her eyes slid closed, almost as if preparing for some great feat. "No more," she murmured.
She, at least, would finally be strong enough to face off with it - all of it, no picking what she should be, where she should go. She had to face herself, be honest with herself, if nothing else. It was clear now, rather unexpectedly, why her bonded insisted on it from her, all of them. She was gentle about it, but insist she did, with an occasional smack upside the head for those who wanted to try and sneer down at her for it. Flint, she had heard, had needed several of these smacks, before she earned his respect as well, made him face off with himself and prove he was strong enough to stand against the truth inside him.
No more acting strong. Time to be strong. Time to be honest with herself.
"That's where you start," she whispered, looking again at this stallion that blanketed her in the cool touch that made her all the more aware of moisture in the air. "You start with one step, and from there you just.. Keep moving. I can't think of where, I can't choose. Just move. Grow. For me, this is the first step. I was running from it, distancing myself from.. Myself, trying to choose a single option, one piece. But no more. I swear it."
Her voice shook slightly as she said as much, but her eyes blazed fiercely. She was scared, beyond scared. One of her bonded's favorite sayings was that we fool ourselves so much we could make a living of it; or at least, most do. She was done fooling herself and knew exactly what that meant. She would find out just how often she had been fooling herself, would be forcing herself to see how much of a change it was, how many things would be different as she ripped the blindfold off her heart and eyes. A frolic in the flowers under a spring drizzle would no longer be as simple or innocent, not with such brutal honesty within her.
But it would mean more, because of it. And she was determined not to fail.
She hoped Avalanche would find a similar strength, eventually. She hoped he'd reach towards others, allow them to help him make sense of what he saw within him as he stopped hiding in that distance. She hoped this weak trembling in her heart as hope took root again after so long of being gone or bringing nothing but pain would only be the first in a very long run of changes that helped guide her back to living. Back to the light.
She had run out of words and let the silence spin out, her eyes soft and unfocused. Taking a breath, she tensed and swallowed hard, feeling her throat work nervously as she scrambled to her feet, crossing the starting point of the rest of her life. Frolic was strong, inside and out, and would get through it, but in no way would it be easy. She could accept that. Shaking the grasses from her coat, she looked towards the stallion and offered a small, bright smile - the first real smile to cross her face, one that wasn't an empty shadow, in so long she couldn't remember the last.
"I know of a good fruit tree not far from here. Getting my life back on track has made me hungry beyond all reason. Want to walk with me, my friend?"
It would take a while to settle comfortably into this new change, into living once again. But she would manage. Right now here eyes stung terribly from the tears she'd shed and her throat was dry and tight from fear, pain and crying. Soon, when she felt recovered enough, she'd examine the little pieces with the harsh and blunt eye of truth. And she'd keep moving, would grow through the pain with what she had, with all that she was and all that had happened. With a cruel and unfiltered truth of her own self. Now that the decision was made it seemed absurd that she had ever been so torn, that she had ever tried to distance herself in such a way. The thought of hiding was purely laughable; and really, what was this distance, the kind that had ripped her or the kind that had smothered the stallion, other than sheer hiding? Hiding from the very truths they carried with them always.
She was through hiding.
No more.