[P] just a creature of a broken past

[Ipomoea]

so lay me down in golden dandelions  For just a moment, all Ipomoea can do is stop and stare at the stallion. A frown creases his face, and he has to shake his head (as if to shake water or cotton from his ears, because surely Mathias was not speaking as quietly as it sounded to him) before the words and the tone they were spoken in begin to process. And then, before he can stop himself or question the retort, he answers. ”Most people pay attention for me,” he says quickly, and only after does he stop to think how defensive it might sound. He was rarely the one to need to move around others - even walking down the hallway, or the gardens, or the courtyard, people tended to move before he had a chance to do so himself. He smiles, more to himself than to Mathias, realizing how accustomed he’s grown to it. The smile quickly turns apologetic, ”But you’re right. Please, call me Po.” He steps forward then, this time deliberately, affably, trying not to peer down at the book the stallion holds beside him but unable to help himself. ”Who are you?” He draws his eyes slowly upwards, trying to pretend he doesn’t see the rigidity in the stallion’s eyes. Trying to pretend that seeing it doesn’t make his own stomach begin to turn, and the monster in his own chest begins to growl. @Mathias

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