Losing Grip
05-07-2014, 05:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-07-2014, 05:49 PM by Othello I.)
A steady walk was easy, just needing to focus on one step at a time. One paw after another, breath in, breath out. Her body was numb, although not from the bite in the wind that whipped her cream fur about. Her curly tail billowed out behind her like a banner, single strands dancing in the wind. The creature needed to focus on something, on anything else. No facade was present, just her raw, emotional self. It was dangerous, but a risk she just had to take right now. If she thought too much, the pain was too much to move. It froze her bodice, making her into a statue instead of a true living being. She was a shell of her true shelf, a hollowed out core of the real Othello. The dame slowly became aware of her surroundings, just noticing that a lake was spreading out before her. Her dull purple eyes took in the vast pool of liquid, memories came rushing back. Soft touches, private caresses and whispered words of praise. Then arguing, harsh words and flinching bodies. Sad eyes and tears. Shaking her head, she scattered the thoughts an erased the memories to her minds eye. They would not haunt her on this day. Othello slowly moved up to the edge of the water, looking down at her reflection. Her black streaks down her muzzle looks like staining of tears, evidence of her emotional streak. Her eyes looked almost lifeless, devoid of all feelings. Out of an act of rage, she reached out and struck her watery face, ripples scattering it about the surface of the lake. She backed up, not wanting to see it any more. She was the reason for everyone's downfall. She should not be able to walk these lands without punishment. Looking up at the sky, she searched for the gods that resided there. "Just strike me down." She growled. |
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