Solitude has never been her true friend, nor has it been her enemy, a middle ground, an acquaintance she tolerated. The haze of a veil sheer placed against her face, at first perhaps, she had balked at the looming suffocation speechlessness was capable of. Unknown things tend to have that effect when one finds themselves faced with them for the first time, initial reaction to things that are new. Eventually, Reckitt found ease in the company of herself, most of the time she was content with it, able to withstand the long silences that grew like shadows in the night- elongating and seeking purchase on her soft heart. That’s the thing though, isn’t it, she wasn’t faced with true silence, always the thump of her heart or the steady sound of her own breathing. The world was never truly overtaken with reticence, not so long as she was still a living thing.
Then, in contrast, she was just as comfortably finding satisfaction with social interactions, perhaps that is where she thrived, if we are to make plain her bubbly resonance. The way she pressed herself into friendships, without doubt wrapped herself around another, braiding such pure light on each soul she came into contact with. Gabriel’s horn manifested some might have cause to believe.
It was her way, when circumstances were in her favor, today, she didn’t feel as if that was so.
Hope was a simplistic notion to the pale mare, but since the changes had taken her form, she was struggling with finding the beacon she once bore. Not that she wasn’t capable of it, it was strained now, it was taking more effort and it made her worrisome; she felt like she was failing somehow, maybe failing herself, but mostly, failing all others. In mere hours of waking, she was questioning herself, finding that she was filled with uncertainty, leaning against the strength of her rock. This mass of a man, so gentle, comforting, even in his nocturnal splendor, with wings like stretched and worn leather. Kitt was close enough to focus on his breathing, allowing that sound to fill her head, while the malignant creatures of apprehension continued her inner turmoil, biting the soft flesh of her cheek.
“Before, I may have delighted in this, if I had been given a say,” her words are tainted with bitterness, hungrily wanting to make itself known, a thing most unlike the old Kitt, she stomped a hoof in distaste. Her very thoughts made her a stranger to herself, she looked sidelong at the river, catching the pale monstrosity of her reflection against Rou’s rust. It is his cloak that keeps her from nearing the water’s edge, the one he forms from a single great wing, she is thankful for that barrier now, even if she does not make it known. Even if it is meant to comfort her, to guide her, it was the blockade she needed before she even realized she did.
A protector, a leader. Qualities of her own, from before , from there. It brought a knife to her thoughts if she allowed the name to creep in, much the same as the absence of her self-made pack did.
“What is safe?” she asks, that same acidity prevalent, it is enough to make her stop, wobbling to a halt.
“I’m sorry,” an apology, she was not feeling herself yet, she was pained and humiliated, but most of all Kitt was afraid. “I do not know that I am ready, or willing, but I can see I do not have a choice. I have to be a horse, whether I choose it or not,” sadness now, that’s the emotion that fills her tone, the cherub vocals that do not often do much but bring light, bleed happiness to the world.
“Do your kind fear Wolves here, will I be afraid of my own?” Another blow, the cosmos berated her with closed fists this day, and she could do nothing but absorb each jab- like she had each ivory fang as an Omega.
@Rouge hooray for words!
