THE BLACK DOE
the infinite intimacy of her rage
She dives deep into the abyss of the forest-shadows and low-lit, no-paths. She dives with no regard; she dives without holding her breath.
When her ethereal company suddenly starts running fast ahead of her, she spends no time to think and follows suite. She follows like a chain is connecting them both; like their paths are entwined, like she's finally found something. Someone. She makes no attempt to be quiet, keeps her desperate pace while trying so hard not to lose the horse-form in front of her. Dark eyes set longing and needing as she follows... Ducks her head from a low-hanging branch, winces past as leaves and flowers and vines whip at her face and threaten to slow her down. She can't allow it. She can't let anything slow her down, now.
The forest suddenly opens to a field, and she stops at the cusp of it; suddenly very shy and uncertain of the opening, the way the sky loomed. She didn't have to strain to keep up with the spirit anymore; she can see just beyond the shadows the fields and what waits for her out there.
There are so many. And they are all looking at her.
Her steps are slow and reserved, even as grass and leaves cling to her uncouth pelt, turned up in random places and messy as she pants through a flared nose. She exits the safety of the night shadows of the trees and bushes and into the clearing. The moon is so, so bright, and the stars, and the black of space - it can see everything. Everything.
She enters the fog and watches it grow, then a whinny catches her attention among the light-horses' faces as she studies them. She turns just as the small mist-foal made of smokey moonlight and fireflies approaches her, quiet and slow. Her head bows and she can feel its breath like a cold, gentle breeze. There is something so oddly familiar about them... About... Her?
There is an innocence here that calls to her, no matter if she's wrong to feel that way. Lifting her head back just as the foal rears and begins to dance, she studies then the faces around them as they start to whisper. Faces. Faces she doesn't know yet seem so familiar.
They whisper so many meaningful things. Significant things. Some are distant shouts, but most are soft and inviting and familiar.
She gasps and tears finally spill like a threaded spool of silk. Her heart beats a thousand times a second it feels like, and she looks upon the dancing child, the dancing light-horses, in a new kind of understanding. They were, intentionally or not, peeling and bringing out a cascade of memories from her. Memories she had been unable to find for... As long as she can remember.
And it is such a large, huge feeling inside of her, she has no idea what to do with it.
So she walks among them. Brushes her fur with their gossamer skin, blinks gentle against the light of their silhouettes among the fog. Familiarizes herself. Welcomes herself into their ranks, into their game.
Without a care nor thought of the trail she'd come from. All there is now is fog and memories and heart-wrenching, bittersweet familiarization.
And in the depths of herself she speaks an intimate, innate truth. Soft, meaningful, personal: "I know you." Keep me here. Let me continue to learn; let me continue to know things I never knew outside of these trees, outside of this fog. Let me belong to this mist and let me belong to you.
She's never wanted for anything more than to simply stay here and nestle within this sense of security she has felt - like no other - like a hearthside.
࿑
@Official Dawn Account
Speech.
When her ethereal company suddenly starts running fast ahead of her, she spends no time to think and follows suite. She follows like a chain is connecting them both; like their paths are entwined, like she's finally found something. Someone. She makes no attempt to be quiet, keeps her desperate pace while trying so hard not to lose the horse-form in front of her. Dark eyes set longing and needing as she follows... Ducks her head from a low-hanging branch, winces past as leaves and flowers and vines whip at her face and threaten to slow her down. She can't allow it. She can't let anything slow her down, now.
The forest suddenly opens to a field, and she stops at the cusp of it; suddenly very shy and uncertain of the opening, the way the sky loomed. She didn't have to strain to keep up with the spirit anymore; she can see just beyond the shadows the fields and what waits for her out there.
There are so many. And they are all looking at her.
Her steps are slow and reserved, even as grass and leaves cling to her uncouth pelt, turned up in random places and messy as she pants through a flared nose. She exits the safety of the night shadows of the trees and bushes and into the clearing. The moon is so, so bright, and the stars, and the black of space - it can see everything. Everything.
She enters the fog and watches it grow, then a whinny catches her attention among the light-horses' faces as she studies them. She turns just as the small mist-foal made of smokey moonlight and fireflies approaches her, quiet and slow. Her head bows and she can feel its breath like a cold, gentle breeze. There is something so oddly familiar about them... About... Her?
There is an innocence here that calls to her, no matter if she's wrong to feel that way. Lifting her head back just as the foal rears and begins to dance, she studies then the faces around them as they start to whisper. Faces. Faces she doesn't know yet seem so familiar.
They whisper so many meaningful things. Significant things. Some are distant shouts, but most are soft and inviting and familiar.
Welcome home.
Shakti.
Meree betee... Tumane kya kiya hai?
My little fighter.
Vah samaan nahin hai.
She isn't the same. She might never be.
You idiot!
Fa'ih.
She gasps and tears finally spill like a threaded spool of silk. Her heart beats a thousand times a second it feels like, and she looks upon the dancing child, the dancing light-horses, in a new kind of understanding. They were, intentionally or not, peeling and bringing out a cascade of memories from her. Memories she had been unable to find for... As long as she can remember.
And it is such a large, huge feeling inside of her, she has no idea what to do with it.
So she walks among them. Brushes her fur with their gossamer skin, blinks gentle against the light of their silhouettes among the fog. Familiarizes herself. Welcomes herself into their ranks, into their game.
Without a care nor thought of the trail she'd come from. All there is now is fog and memories and heart-wrenching, bittersweet familiarization.
And in the depths of herself she speaks an intimate, innate truth. Soft, meaningful, personal: "I know you." Keep me here. Let me continue to learn; let me continue to know things I never knew outside of these trees, outside of this fog. Let me belong to this mist and let me belong to you.
She's never wanted for anything more than to simply stay here and nestle within this sense of security she has felt - like no other - like a hearthside.
@Official Dawn Account
Speech.
