//Everybody's Fool

[Black Thorns]

Song was so very frightened when they didn't return. They were gone, and she was alone. It was a scary thought- even though, of course, she didn't like them one little bit. Her heart pounded. It was her fault, everything was her fault. Though she really wouldn't take it back, she missed company. Her head fell against the shore, her shoulder entirely numb. She couldn't feel. Of course that wasn't a good thing, but without the pain she could rest with much more ease. She was so tired, and surely she would wake up. Just let her rest, even if just for a moment... Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing beginning to slow. SHe was at peace. It was quiet, and she could just sleep until she was no longer tired... until she was so rested she would never have to sleep again. So very tired... Her body began to slip into sleep just as she heard the splashing of hooves, sending her to the waking world once again. "Uhmmm, you're back..." she murmured, still half-asleep, "And, uhhh...Hi..." She closed her eyes again, drifting somewhere between awake and asleep.


--behind the post--
Stupid short post. Not even 200 words. Because it's a reply to TWG.... which was moved for some reason I don't know. -.- SHADY YOU BETTER REPLY OR I'LL SMACK YOU IN THE FACE. O.O

[lady shady]

Song's reaction caught him off guard. What?? Where was the angry mare he expected to be spitting in his face?? This was definitely NOT what he had been expecting.

"So. You drifted off." he said drily, suspicious of the sudden change in behavior. But her sleepy eyes and flopped ears softened him and made him smile. Without realizing he was doing it, he reached down and lightly brushed her forelock out of her eyes so that it wouldn't get in the way of her closing them. Her mane was coarse, but it was enticingly long, and so beautiful...no. He snapped himself out of it again, not knowing whether it was good or bad that he was learning to recognize and ignore these feelings so quickly. "Come on now, don't you think you'll be more comfortable on the shore? It isn't that far away."

He spoke brusquely, though gently, and tugged lightly at her mane, trying to coax her out of the freezing water. She was so stubborn; it's be just his luck if she didn't move. "Come on, come on now, Song..."He used her name for the first time, hoping it would spark at least a bit of a reaction. "Let's get you to the shore..."

--behind the post--
224
super mini short one xP

[Black Thorns]

Song murmured something intelligible as he brushed her forelock aside, sighing happily and leaning into his touch. Oh, he was warm... and she was so cold, so tired... He moved away, suddenly, and Song whimpered. SHe wanted him back! Why was she leaving? Her jaws opened in a long yawn, to tired to remember that she shouldn't like him. SHe was to tired to remember much of anything at the moment. "Don't leave..." she muttered, her words slurred and hard to distinguish.
"Come on now, don't you think you'll be more comfortable on the shore? It isn't that far away." Gentle voice and quick. Masculine. He was warm... She felt a light tugging at her mane and snorted stubbornly, not wanting to move. He should just stay here and be warm, 'cause she was cold, but she wasn't hurting so it was good. Yes. She remembered that she was hurting but she didn't care about why. She just wanted to sleep... and be warm...
"Come on now, Song...Let's get you to the shore..." Ah. He knew her name so he was good. The only people who knew who she was were the people that she trusted, so she must trust him. Her mostly-asleep self was nodding slightly in agreement, body limp with exhaustion. Her back legs struggled to push her body out of the water, front legs hardly doing much to help. Numb. She couldn't feel what she was doing until the water was no longer around her, as she lay on the shore. Sharp, stinging feelings went through her body, needle-like things that weren't quite pain until they were at her shoulder. She cried out as feeling returned to her shoulder and rib, shocking her back to the waking world. Oser. Oser was here, and he knew her name. He had touched her, touched her and she had liked it!
"How do you know my name?" she questioned warily.

[lady shady]

To his surprise, she actually started moving like he had told her to, rising slowly despite the obvious pain she had been feeling and emerging from the water. Droplets clung to her mane like translucent pearls, and he reached out his nose to watch one slide down a strand of her hair. When she wasn't being so stubborn, she really was quite an elegant mare.

As she lay down, he stretched slowly and shook out his mane, letting the thick hair hang in his eyes. Glancing at her through the fringe, he bobbed his head in acknowledgement as she spoke. Even though it shouldn't have, her suspicious tone caught him off guard. "How do you know my name?" she asked fiercely, eyeing him.

"I make it my business to learn the names of the pretty ladies I meet," he answered immediately, arching his neck and continuing his stretch. As soon as the words were out, he wanted to bite them back. This wasn't something he'd say to this mare! This was for charming! She was not to be charmed! He'd have to watch himself.

Arching and flexing finished, he shook himself off a final time before walking over to where she lay. He felt stiff; he could really go for a roll right now, but he felt it would be undignified to throw himself to the ground in front of her and wriggle around on his back like a three month old wolf pup.

So, he settled for standing still in front of her, nearly over her, close enough so that if she reached up she could rake her teeth along his belly. Let her just try. She wouldn't dare. And why would she want to anyway, after all he had tried to help her? He snorted softly. Mares were unpredictable that way. One minute they were all soft and doe-eyed, and the next, they were spitting mad. He didn't understand it. He understood fighting, and conquering, and winning, but not the complex emotions of female creatures.

Oser lowered his head, ready to doze himself. However, he had forgotten that Song's face was right beneath him, and his muzzle brushed hers accidentally on the way down. Jerking his head back up, he rotated his body so that it wouldn't happen again and closed his eyes. This mare had better heal soon, the sooner she did, the sooner he could stop worrying about her.

--behind the post--
417 word redo
smooth...riiiiight.

[Black Thorns]

Oser shook his long, pale mane before her, his forelock draping over his eyes. He nodded at her as she spoke, before returning with his own words- though there weren't the biting retort she expected.
"I make it my business to learn the name of the pretty ladies I meet," he answered as his neck curved in an alluring arch, muscles rippling under a shining, unmarred pelt. Charming... He was charming her! She snorted in response, lifting her head to look back up at him. He moved over to her, close enough that he seemed to loom over her. She sighed in defeat, letting him stay there. She couldn't fight, and it was better if she didn't. She needed to heal. Her eyes closed for a moment, just a moment, and she felt the soft brush of a muzzle against her own.
Surprisingly, she returned the gesture before falling asleep on the shore. She would heal, and then she would see what would happen.

***********

So she did. Two seasons passed and the land of Forma Silvestris lived in glorious autumn, lands sprawling with vibrant reds and golds. Her rib no longer gave her pain, having fused back to its regular position rather quickly. Her shoulder took much longer- it was taking much longer. Too long, she thought, but as Oser had told her it took time for wounds like that to heal. Baby steps. First she could stand alone, then she could walk a very short distance. They began to increase that distance until she was fine with walking, then she had started to get back into a trot. Sure, the beat was slightly off, but she was trotting. It was as fast as she could move for the moment safely. Fighting she could do, though she would likely re-injure her fragile shoulder and lose the fight. She was healing. She healed in many ways those two seasons, trust gradually building between the pair of horses as one depended absolutely upon the other and the other gave all the care and attention she needed. Trust. He was the one person she trusted at the moment. They were... well, she didn't know what they were. They seemed friends, but in the dark as they lay together to sleep, he would caress her just a bit and she would back. What were they?
It was no matter, not this morning. This morning would be fine, and she wouldn't let herself be confused.
"Good morning, Oser," she greeted the stag, her shoulder still aching as she made her slow way over to him. God, she hated being this slow. She wanted nothing but to run nd feel the wind in her mane... but she knew that there was a possibility that it would never happen, or at least never happen without pain.
Yet she was healing.

[lady shady]

"Good morning, Oser"

He opened an eye lazily from where he had been dozing in the sun before straightening and returning the greeting. "Good morning." She was being oddly friendly today. Well, not odd, exactly, but odd for her. Over the past few months they had developed an interesting relationship. The first few weeks had been hard, but definitely the least confusing. They had gotten under each other's skin constantly; he knew she hated not being able to take care of her herself and she had taken it out on him. It had taken all of his patience not to strike back at her in irritation. He knew he could never really hit her though, only brutes did that sort of thing. Their feelings towards each other seemed to be mutual, and they only stayed together out of necessity. She, though she despised it, needed someone there to help her, and he needed to stay out of duty. He was the Alpha, and it was time that he started taking responsibility for his kingdom. Not that Song knew. She seemed to regard him suspiciously, not understanding why he stayed nor why he cared. In a way, he envied her, not having to care about anyone else or be responsible for them. Responsibility was a heavy thing indeed.

After a while though, she developed sort of an uneasy trust with him. She'd let him a little closer, but never as close as he had been that night when he'd coaxed her half-asleep from the water. And the more trusting she grew, the more confused he became. She was drawing something from deep inside him; it was stirring in his hollow chest, and he didn't know if he liked the sensation. He felt more...aware of himself and his surroundings, he felt pain and pleasure, joy and sorrow more acutely. Though he didn't know it, he was learning to live again, but thawing was a painful process.

And then. And then, she did something that made him most confused. It was a late summer evening, and they were wading in the water together. He was helping her walk, staying by her side in case she fell, with the open river on the other side to catch her. She did well, taking tiny yet controlled steps, and the joy at regaining movement was clear on her face. He was satisfied as well; she was healing. She was defying the odds and living. Keanu would be happy to know. He was thinking along this track when she turned to him, and uttered those two words. "Thank you." Thank you? What? From this mare? The fiery little thing that snubbed him when she had the chance and clearly wished that he would leave her be? Song was being...gracious? Friendly? What was that all about? He had been stunned into speechlessness.

From that point on, his emotions towards her were as bipolar as the mare herself seemed to be. He did his best to stay cool and detached, to retreat back into that comfortable old hard shell, but he couldn't seem to do it. Oser, master of the West lands, was losing control. The one in charge of a quarter of the island couldn't even keep his own feelings in check. How was he supposed to rule a kingdom if he couldn't keep it together in front of a single mare?
He managed to maintain the image of control though. He did his best to stay patient, cool, responsible...how long could he keep it up though?

Finally, he broke one cool autumn night. Song had shed her baby bird image for the most part; she definitely was too free-spirited and headstrong to be such a thing. He would occasionally catch little glimpses of it, but she looked much different to him now. Her wound made her appear tougher, not so young and fragile. He began to notice how she walked with that certain type of attractive elegance, a light sway that defied her injured shoulder. The way she smelled, that windblown scent that never seemed to leave her though she could no longer run. The way she looked, so different, yet so...captivating. There was one more thing to learn. The way she felt. He wanted, no, needed to know. That night, he waited until her breathing had grown steady, indicating that she was asleep. Tentatively, he reached out, stretching his velvet muzzle closer and closer...there. His nose made contact with her warm hide. He pressed a little harder, tracing little circles on her back and neck. All right. He knew now. He knew. But he couldn't stop. He was tracing the contours of her shoulder muscles, the lines of her long neck. He was...he froze. She was awake.

The cloud-colored stag was about to snatch his muzzle away, when she did something that surprised him. Twisting around, she reached for him and returned with a caress of her own. His eyes opened in surprise. But he didn't move away. Instead, he stayed still, letting her run her muzzle over his own shoulders and back. Snorting softly, he leaned slightly into her, brushing against her side under the starry canopy that was the night sky. Neither of them said a word, just nuzzled each other for a good hour until one of them drifted off. By day, they never spoke of it, but by night, they would do it again. And again. And again, until they must have memorized every line of each other's neck and shoulders.

So here she was now, in the morning light, greeting him in a way that implied a different feeling toward him. Did he feel differently about her? It didn't matter. He was to stay away from her and all the pain she brought. Every day he spent with her, that pain in his chest came back and grew stronger. He wouldn't let her hurt him. He wouldn't let her distract him.

--behind the post--
about 1500...whaaa??
ONE OF MY LONGEST EVER!
O.O

[Black Thorns]

I've made up my mind
Don't need to think it over
If I'm wrong I am right

His relaxed stance startled her somewhat, differentiating greatly from his usual calm, calculated, cold manner. It was in that moment that he nearly seemed alive to her, more alive than he really had ever been save for when she angered him. Perhaps that was why she liked to anger him; it made him do something, it made him less of a robot that made her get better. She really didn't know if he cared for her, and perhaps she didn't care for him; but she wanted him to feel, never the less. If she was to be stuck with him for a year or so, let it at least be something she could... tolerate. Not enjoy, but tolerate. There were a few moments scattered here and there during the daytime, but overall it was that awkwardly tense forced-to-be-together- type of thing.

"Good morning," Oser murmured, likely still half-asleep after dozing off. Sleep. Oh, she remembered every single moment of the time they spent supposedly sleeping. Should she step close enough, she could tell exactly where she was in relation to him y simply touching his body; she had no need to see to know it was him. Somehow, without telling each other, they knew it was taboo to speak of or acknowledge during the daytime. They acted as if it never happened, as if she still hated him as much as she hated every other stag. He was an exception in the night, when the air was so cold they huddled for warmth. He was an exception when he ran his muzzle over her neck in slow, massaging little movements that she returned with just as much pleasure. It wasn't real in the daytime, but during the night it was as real as the air she breathed.

When was it that she began to walk? The early autumn, when the trees began to sprinkle little reds and oranges, never at the vibrant tones that the trees trembled with now. She remembered it, the loss of support as she tried to move her legs. She felt as if she were a dumb foal, unable to walk by itself. Her first step happened then, wobbling and very, very unsteady. He caught her before she fell, helping to keep her steady on her feet. He always did that, now, as she healed. He always helped her. Normally that was met with a biting retort about how she could do it herself, yet he still stayed no matter how immensely rude she was to him. He stepped away, Song taking one step, then another. She hardly moved with each one of her footfalls, each one tiny as to minimize the amount of movement in her muscles. It was nothing but joy when she found herself able to move- though, admittedly, it was no more than fifteen feet that first time with no help- and she didn't know what to do with it. There had never been a time that she had felt to much happiness as she did in that moment, that realization that she would be able to move again. No matter how much she tried to prevent it, the hopes of being able to run as she once did ran untamed in her mind. It was then that she thanked him, a mindless thing, some grasp of manners she had managed to hold on to. Yet Oser took it with wordless shock, and that surprised her. She had thanked him for helping her walk, and maybe learn to run.

Run. She used to run, she would run faster than every horse she had met. It was in her genes to be quick, to have that need to move and keep moving. He had liked that in her, He had liked that she ran. He was fast just like she was; He was stronger, though. He made her stay. He was power, then, a thing that couldn't be controlled but could control everything within His grasp. He wanted her to say His name and so she did, and He wanted her to touch Him and so she did. He made her move her tail and so she did. Again. And again. And again. He found her when she ran, no matter how far she ran. He would find her.

Oser frightened her, at times, in his similarity. Not in his actions, but in his looks. He looked like Keanu, and Keanu had looked like Him. At times she would wake, and there He would be; but he would move and Oser would be back. Some days she found it the most tempting to try and leave, to try and escape these feelings that haunted her. Her own morals collided with her emotions, and it was a rather tricky thing to figure out. So she settled for sharing it, nighttime for what she wanted and daytime for what she believed. Maybe it wasn't the best of arrangements, but it worked for now. As long as one didn't leak into the other, it was all safe. It was all good.

She stopped at his side, resting her bad leg to avoid putting weight on it when she didn't need to. "Do you know what day it is?" she asked quietly, looking down at the ground, "Or, well, what time it is. Oddly enough I was born around this time in the autumn; I do assume I've turned a year older or am turning a year older. Happy five years of life to me, I guess." She tore at the grass, trying to avoid looking at him. It became harder and harder to look as time went on, instead of easier. Birthdays. Song wondered when Oser's birthday was, how old he was. He seemed young, not much older than she was, but he spoke as if he was older than the lands... Yet the lands had always been this way, for as long as Song was in the world. It was always divided into four, and the war was something she had heard of, but never knew why. She knew that there were alphas, though she had never seen one nor known who they were.

Perhaps when she healed, Oser might take her to see them. She'd always wanted to, hearing stories; horses with powers she couldn't imagine, horses that would never age and never die. There were ones close to them, too, ones with coats of marvelous colours and patterns impossible to imagine, ones that could heal anyone with a mere touch. Those were the alphas, magical and ones to be worshipped.

You know, if she ever found out who they even were.



--behind the post--
A little over 1,100 words. Blehhh.
Oh Song, he's right there. xD

[lady shady]

"Do you know what day it is?"

Song asked the question as if it were a statement. Did he know what day it was? Was he supposed to? Time didn't mean much to him, days flew by, seasons changed, but it never seemed to really matter. Time was nothing, he had plenty of it and always would, it seemed. He didn't believe he would ever die, after he had reached the prime point in his maturity, he seemed to have stopped aging. Would his body be forever young? She interrupted his early-morning musing though as she continued.

"...Or, well, what time it is. Oddly enough I was born around this time in the autumn; I do assume I've turned a year older or am turning a year older. Happy five years of life to me, I guess." Happy five years to her indeed. As if he should be wrapped up in her life story. He gave a polite nod and watched absentmindedly as she began to graze, avoiding his eyes. Five years, she said? Five years...it had been five years since the war had ended. Five years since he had felt flesh give way beneath his hooves, five years since he had commanded troops and rejoiced in victories. Five years since the land had first been split, five years since he had lost zoet, five years since the herds had first mourned their dead. Five years.

And Song knew nothing of it. She was young, had never known the thrill and pain of war. Had never seen the troops marching in formation before him, had never seen the blood make a battlefield go slick and terrible. How strange it must be, to not know all of that. Perhaps it was nice though, not to know. Not to remember.

He cleared his throat with a soft whinny that came out sounding more like a nicker. A nicker? He tried again, this time, to his satisfaction, succeeding with a loud trumpet. He walked a little ways a way from her into the forest, circling, bugling and trumpeting loudly mostly for the sake of hearing his own voice. Good. He sounded strong. Masculine. Powerful. Oser kept walking. Suddenly, he came across a little clearing at the edge of the trees, barely there, but there all the same. He burst into a canter, exploding into a few bucks and rears when he reached the center, then wheeling and galloping off in a different direction. This too, was good. Away from Song, his head was a little more clear. His lungs pumped air in and out, his sides heaving, as he lifted himself onto his back legs and struck out with the most elegant of motions, a beautiful yet deadly move. His hooves moved for him, weaving themselves into the intricate routine of his war dance. It had been so long.

His hooves beat faster and harder, pounding the ground into submission beneath them, recalling the days of fighting. His forelegs struck out in time, and he snaked his head, tossing his mane and sending his forelock flying. He must move. Must remember. Suddenly, his hooves grew as light as a butterfly's touch, and he was back on the ground. Back in the woods. Back with Song and his empty shell. Oser snorted and headed back towards the mare at a steady trot.

A trot. The mare must relearn the trot if she was to travel. The trot was the traveler's gait. She had already managed it a few times, but perhaps more practice would do her good. It would do him good. He needed to move again, move freely, suck air into his lungs and expel it from his nostrils in puffs that showed in the cool autumn air. Moving helped him remember what it felt like to live.

Oser found her where he had left her, still pulling up grass. He approached, hooves thudding softly on the ground, fallen needles deadening his step, dry leaves crunching occasionally beneath his hooves. "Shall we try a trot today?" he suggested, hoping she would say yes. Of course she would though, she was impatient, always wanting to move, to go, to run, even though she couldn't. Maybe she was scared too. Maybe that's why she had to keep moving. Maybe, like him, she was scared that she's forget something if she stopped.

Or maybe she was scared that she would remember.

--behind the post--
745 words
I really need to make this boy an image. This coding is bugging me!

[Black Thorns]

I've been taught to hold back my tears
And avoid them
But you make pain into somthing
I could touch...

If there was ever the chance to take a risk, to dive headfirst with every ounce of will behind whatever move was made, Song would take that risk. The terrifying threat of failure seemed to drive her harder, to make her push herself more. Each risk seemed to tie into that event, that chapter in the book of her life, a story so complexly woven that to sever one thread severed them all. She wove them tighter with each risk, made sure to remind herself of that time and to fuel her fury with every breath of her living days. It took those risks to keep her alive; and yet here she was, playing it safe. Here he was, everything she could want and loathe in one package, and she dared not to take a risk either way. She dared not to strike out when he slept, dared not to feel the cracking and breaking of bones that didn't belong to her. She dared not to love him- at least, she thought she wouldn't.

So life moved on, a half-dead state only feeling the spark of life in the bliss of their spats, the soft brush of his touch in the midst of the night. She was dead in the body of the living; dead in a place where she forced herself deeper and deeper into a personal hell of her own; forced herself to remember and relive each and every moment of the horrible time of her youth. She was still so young, yet she felt as if she was aged years beyond what she truly lived, as if that time had forced her to grow older than she ever would dream of being. She remembered that time, remembered the absolute terror; the sheer power he held over her. Oser held power, too, a different power; a power she fought but always found herself bowing under. The softest of touches compelled her to obey, as if she were a trained servant. Of course, a servant of that which she dared not speak of; the obedience disappeared with the night.

Just as he disappeared as soon as she had spoken. He cleared his throat, nickering softly as her ears swiveled to try and make herself sure she heard him make that sound. He didn't make little noises; he made sure that whatever he did was easy for anyone to hear. It confused her, at first, until he let out a trumpeting whinny. He left her, then, making sounds only for the sake of hearing himself it seemed. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, filling her stomach with dying grasses. Five years. Supposedly she had been born just as the war ended, never hearing for herself the sound of the dying, never seeing the blood of thousands spill over the lust of being king. She never saw the absolute devastation of a mother as her child never rose. She never saw these things, never remembered them. She never had to hide in the underbrush, only galloping about with the other foals. Herds were small, never large and sprawling herds of alphas; the lands had always been divided.

It seemed that whenever Oser was gone, when he was quiet, she could think. Perhaps that was the problem, she thought to much. Thinking kept Oser from confusing her, though; when Oser was there she only jumbled her emotions into a ball of confusion. Yet when he was gone, He creeped into her mind. He never left; he was always there. It was He who guided her to the edge of the cliff. It was Him who laughed as she fought to balance on the tip of a knife. He made her everything, and He never left. He angered with her moments of peace, and He reveled in her moments of pain. He made it into something tangible, He made pain into something she could touch. She closed her eyes, trying to focus again on the grass below her. He whispered to her; she felt His body sliding along her, felt the tickle of His hot breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force Him away.

He would never leave...

Her thoughts were interrupted by another stallion's voice. "Shall we try a trot today?" he asked, voice hopeful. Hopeful for what? Hopeful that the sooner she learned the more she would want to leave? He knew she wanted nothing but to be free.

"Yes, of course," she replied, lifting her head and nodding with open eyes. The sooner she could learn to trot, the sooner she could run.

And if she could run, she could escape Him.

She could be free.

[lady shady]

"Yes, of course."

Her words were steeped in longing, a wild longing that plucked a chord in his icy heart. He looked at her, standing there, leaning forward into the light breeze. She had made it clear to him that she wanted her freedom, and the sooner she could move, the sooner she could leave. The longing in her voice was almost tangible. The wind floated past his nostrils and he inhaled, remembering that first day when he had found her, wounded and bleeding. She had been soaked in the sticky crimson liquid, yet when he had touched her for the first time, when he had tried to move her, her had been able to smell the wind in her mane. Song was wild. Beautifully wild. Her spirit defined her in every way. She was uncontrollable.

Oser shook his head softly, sending his forelock tumbling over his deep brown eyes. He approached, briskly saying, "Well, there's no time like the present. Let's go." Moving quickly, he positioned himself beside her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Well, not catch her exactly, but maybe break her fall. She got the message, and after giving him a tiny glare for interrupting her meal, she drew out a long, dramatic swallow and began to walk away from him, as if she were proving that she didn't need his help. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her retreating figure and followed.

As she heard him approaching, she laid back her ears and quickened her pace just the tiniest bit. He lengthened his strides, mildly irritated at her snub. The ground was crisscrossed with tree roots, and if she tripped...
Just as he was about to come alongside her,he himself tripped over a root in his haste, sending his muzzle forward and down as he fought to keep his balance. It brushed along Song's side, from her hip to her belly, and in the split second that they made contact, he could feel her tense and inhale sharply. Just as he regained his footing, she rocketed away from him at a speed he had not thought possible in her present condition. She was galloping, and for a second, he saw her streamlined body and windswept mane, dappled by the shadows of the trees, as she was meant to be seen: free. But there was no joy on her face, only fear and anger. After a moment, she slowed to a lurching canter, and then into a stiff trot. She shook her head as if she had made a decision and slowed to face him, dark eyes blazing with fury. What had he done?

"Song?" he asked, voice tinged with confusion. He took a step forward. She took one back.

"Don't. You. EVER." she hissed, ears pinned and neck snaked toward him. She looked as if she would attack him were she not injured. "You try anything like that again, and I'll rip you to pieces. Even if it kills me." Her voice was low and deadly, her words soft and threatening. She proceeded to call him a long list of unpleasant names, most of them expletives, all the while tense and aggressive. He cocked his head, confused. If she hadn't been so angry, he would've been irritated with her behavior. But it seemed that something--and she behaved as if HE was the something--had triggered this deep anger.

"Song."

It was a statement. No emotion behind it. No anger, no confusion, mustn't let them show, mustn't let her see the swirling emotions. Come back Oser. Back in control. Come back, Song. Come back to earth. Come back, come back. He waited there stupidly, eyes dead behind his blank mask. Answer, please, answer.

But her only response was to turn and stalk away. She didn't look back.

He swung into his speedwalk again, following her. He would make her answer him. Never mind the fact that he hadn't actually asked her a question; she would answer him. She was not going to walk away from him like this. He was getting angry now, angry at her anger, and a bit frightened by it too. Her anger frightened him and his fright angered him. He did not like such strong emotion without reason. He did not like not knowing. He did not like being afraid. He did not like feeling.

"Song."

It was no longer a statement, but a command. He drew himself and stood tall, the king and captain that he was. Or that he had been. His eyes flashed, daring her to keep walking after he had called her. It wasn't a call to come towards him, simply one to stop. For the tiniest instant, she kept walking, then her body stiffened and she halted. She did not turn towards him but called venomously over her shoulder, "Don't get any ideas. It's not because YOU told me to, Mr. Macho, but because I needed a rest."

Oser snorted."Fine." Good. Cool. Calm. In control. "At least give me an explanation, though, as to why you suddenly seem to find my company so disagreeable."

She flattened her ears and walked on in frigid silence. He narrowed his eyes. Two could play at this game.

--behind the post--
889. Song's fun, Thorny, especially when she's mad!