you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh
with your bones and your flesh
His breath leaves his lungs in a shuddery sigh, the kind that comes just before a storm of tears, but his eyes are strangely dry despite the sadness that dwells deep in his chest. He learned young not to cry, that tears only made the anger worse somehow, would twist his father’s lips into a sneer every time the tears fell.
Crying during one of the punishments only made things worse.
Crying was weak.
His laugh this time is shaky, just as choked as the first but not half as bitter, and somehow the stallion’s words echo as both truth and lie in his mind, some sort of twisted mockery of everything his father had once tried to teach him and what he has come to understand since then.
His eyes widen, rounded ears tucking back along his head and he’s a child again with the bitter tone of Toro’s voice, shying back and away from the larger stallion until his rump hits the wall. The snarl is all-too-familiar, so close to his memories that for a moment his father’s face hovers before him instead of Toro. He makes himself smaller by habit, holds his breath and tries to disappear into the wall behind him.
@El Toro
you were only a boy,
when you were thrown into a war.
when you were thrown into a war.
