s w a h i l i
take a drunk girl home
let her sleep all alone
leave her keys on the counter
your number by the phone
pick up her life she threw on the floor
She must be doing something right . . . of that she was beginning to suspect. The ability to come and go from House Atraer hadn't been so easy prior to her recent escapades to present herself in a more favorable light to her father. Not that he ever seemed to be looking, watching, acknowledging her. But she was trying - to show she was just as good of a daughter of Atraer as her siblings, her sisters. Just as worthy of love, affection . . . attention. What she wouldn't give to feel his muzzle between her ears, praising her for a job well done. Just . . . just once in her life. So, in recent days she'd been trying harder to be presentable, a proper lady . . . and while the restrictions felt looser . . . where they really looser, or did he just not care as much as she had originally hoped? Was it easier walking out of the manor now, because she wasn't trying to be sneaky about it? Had his disinterest really been so severe that even her presence as she would come and go would be ignored?
It was a massacre of her self-esteem, as her limbs carried her further, and further from her father's properties. Was it so wrong for her to crave acceptance, care, and the feeling of being liked? Sure, she had Addy - her brother never failed to make her feel important. But . . . but ever since her mother left her to her father's care and tutelage when she was just a couple of months old . . . the feeling of love, support, home that her mother's people had instilled in her had faded to the dismal mess that had her constantly searching out acceptance from other sources. She'd never be able to thank the downtrodden of the alleyways enough for the safety, and acceptance they had offered her when she was still a young foal and had stumbled into their shadows during an attempt to run from home and return to her mother's caravan.
She hadn't even known if the Caravan was still in Solterra, let alone Novus at all. But she'd been young, desperate; and they had showered her in affection. Something as simple as a welcoming touch that soothed her mane back had her returning to those dark alleys. But, would her father ever truly be aware of the distance he had created between him, and her? She, and the rest of the family. Outside of Addy, the rest of the Atraer's saw her as nothing more than a vile outsider. Filthy blood. Unkept, uncivilized, soiled by her mother's bloodlines . . . or was that simply how she read into it, so desperate for any sort of attention, she'd even make up negative attention. Was the negativity all in her head, so she wouldn't have to acknowledge that the entire family (beyond her elder brother) wouldn't even notice if she failed to return home one night?
These thoughts were what carried her now, beyond the walls of the Day Court buildings, and into the desert beyond. Carried her even through the desert, to the lands in between the courts. She was heading west. What a silly concept, to head west - wasn't that the idea when you were to start a new life, a new chance. Go west, young man; haven't you been told? She wasn't after the whiskey, the gold; and certainly not the women, however. But a new start, oh how often that had made headlines in her dreams. Dancing beneath the stars, their brilliance reflected in her eyes, as a bonfire would throw light around. Caravans of vibrant colors pulled into a circle for the night, laughter and merriment as far as the eye could see, the ear could hear. Singing, dancing; freedom.
Her gaze turned away, further to the west, as if imagining it all coming into existence before. But mirages never last long in the desert. She kicks up her heels, painting the sky with her dark tail, the pale creams and ivory of her mane - carrying her further, and further, from Solterra's center, the heart of the Court. Away from the confinement, the perfect daughter who would never be seen, never be acknowledged. The empty, cold hallways of her wing in the manner. The second-hand furniture in her room, because she was an afterthought. A future of captivity behind the fake smile of an 'upper-class' woman. Just for a little while, she could escape it all, right? And so she continued her run, the sand giving way to dry grasses, and brush, her breath leaving her in a slight pant as she just let herself be, to be in that moment, wild and free with the wind.
It made her gypsy heart sing, but not even she could run forever, and slowly her pace slowed from a run to a canter, to a trot, and finally to a walk, her breath still leaving her in small puffs of air, her eyes half-closed as she heads deeper into the plains that would eventually merge with Viride Forest, Dawn Court - she'd been there once before. For the Spring Festival . . . The sound of heavy steps draws her attention up, and emerald eyes turn towards the sound, to the giant that trudged the brush and grass a ways away, dirt piled onto his hindquarters, flaking off with each step. How the rest of it stayed centered there; she'd assume it could only be magic - but it was his actions that confused her . . . She approached with some hesitation, her steps cautious to the unfamiliar, large behemoth (though not as large as Jarek, she had to admit), "Uhm, excuse me - but are you looking for something? Do . . . do you need some help?" She offered with a shy, but friendly smile, tilting her head curiously at him, "I do apologize if I'm bothering you - I mean; but it looks like you're searching the grass . . . and, if you needed, or wanted any help . . . ." Her words fail her, and she has to bury the embarrassment that threatens to emerge, "Uhm, My name is Swahili, Swahili Atraer, of Solterra." She added after that momentary pause as if that would validate her offer any - as if it would keep the odd stallion from dismissing her . . .
Not that it would upset her too much if he did, she was rather used to being ignored and dismissed after all - it's why she'd wandered away from home.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Ogden
Notes: <3
