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 Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2014 12:22 am
The swamp flower. Uh huh, she thought. Pull the other one. "I think you have spent too long in this swamp, there is clearly as much muck in your ears as between them," she crooned at him, a vice that would have disturbed her had she ever heard Mary use it, for it was so close to the croon the dark one used. "I believe we already established that while you talk a good shtick, and your act might be sufficient to con the weak of mind, that you misstepped with me. "I know nothing of my mother, nor of hate and fear." At least, not hate and fear towards some silly filly she had never met. "Given that, I think that perhaps your swamp flower, your unpickable flower with thorns... is a cactus. Good day then," she said a mocking sneer in her voice what the words that might have been polite, had they been said by any save her.
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2014 8:37 pm
He watched the mare retreating, knew that she would try to escape her fate as though she could. "You can't run nor hide from destiny 'chile. You will find out soon enough."
She would come back when she found the flower, he knew that much. Perhaps she wanted to believe it wasn't true, wanted to tell herself that she was the only person in charge of her life, but he had seen too much. He knew that destiny or fate, sometimes was inevitable and sometimes it was what saved you.
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Nyx Queen of Darkness Crew
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2014 10:12 pm
She shook her head, her hair moving against her neck as she denied his words. "I run from nothing. I do, however, walk away from fools." And, she thought, from boredom. Though anyone who bored her, was clearly a fool. She considered ripping him open and feeding him his own entrails, but decided against it, ultimately. The ground was too soft for her to roll him properly, and he was clearly more used to the terrain than she was. Leaving was not cowardice, it was wisdom.
She turned on her hoof and stalked off. Unfortunately she had been very correct when she presumed that he had the home field advantage. The swamp... was not her friend, and she did not know it. Odd expression that, it implied she ever had friends, ever would. She hadn't, and she wouldn't. So she supposed that it made sense that the swamp was not her friend; however, acknowledging that did not get her any less lost.
Too stubborn to go back the way she came, back towards him, she got herself further and further into the murk and gloom. "How big could this stinking place be anyway?" she muttered. There had to be a point when she was heading out, rather than further in. How far could she run into the swamp? Half way. But... where was that halfway point? She didn't know how to hunt in a swamp, and she was getting hungry; which of course meant she was getting grouchy. Well, grouchier.
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