Posted on February 22, 2013 at 03:27:47 AM by dresden.
 Sarcasm, in Dresden’s mind, is the lowest form of insult. The mare is rarely found saying anything that isn’t what she means, or at least a semblance of what she means. She doesn’t like to beat around the bush… sometimes she just lacks the right words. Most of the time the right words don’t exist for the odd little champagne mare, and most of the time her brain just gets in the way. It’s from here that she comes with a desire to shut herself off. If she turns everything else off, her brain won’t have anything to get in the way of and she can think as she will. Neat little concept, right?
Dresden thinks so. Very few things fit into a neat little box. She’s learning it’s hard to compartmentalize everything, and that’s starting to get messy. Everything was a little bit messy in this place. It wasn’t the forest that was the problem. The problem rooted straight back to the mare’s head. Sometimes Dresden realized that she’d have to give up everything, including the worrying, to fix things. It was easier to ponder and wonder and worry. It was what she was doing right now… pondering. Worrying wasn’t worth it, just drove your blood pressure up. No, she would ponder. It was a ponderous thing, this Forest was. Her eyes swing to the man once more. The red dun that stands bold as brass in the odd, filtering light. His eyes are slightly distrustful, but she supposes they mirror her own. Trust is a strnage thing, and it’s one that she won’t really come into. It’s enough to turn her off of a day to day life with any one other being around her. She doesn’t like constant watching, constant conversation, constant companionship. She’s hardly enough of a constant in herself. The champagne mare’s eyes flicker over Vercingetorix’s face, studying only slightly. “Dresden.” The word hangs briefly in the air before her face before dissipating into the darkness. The mare’s posture doesn’t change, but she does shift. She is no more or less defiant than she is when she started, though she’s ready to get moving. The time in this standing still place has been too long… it’s time to move. Dresden’s head shakes slightly, mane splaying out over her neck. The day is warm, and she’s starting to get antsy. “Is there anything I need to know, or is this introduction over?” She stretches slightly, weight shifting between her back legs and trying to find a new, reasonable spot. mare. mature. sable champagne. walking disaster. |
Replies:
- "The crude mortality of man." - By vercingetorix February 23, 2013 at 07:22:14 AM
- x. - By russell February 23, 2013 at 07:22:39 AM
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