September 8, 2008 - 1:12pm — Anzel
As my treads slowed, I was very soon to notice that I was unfollowed, that none desired to tread behind me. So be it...Anzel thought, tongue lapping at the bitter puddle waters flowing into an indent in the earth.
None follow me. Not a single fae-stag, or stag, as so chosen by the bearing of antlers (and consequently, making them feel that they are strong and masculine; not realizing that we are genderless, and cannot have intercourse)...would ever walk behind me. Only would they follow me as entertainment. The ghost fae walks alone.
As the waters of the freshwater stream meet with ocean tides, so do I flow into troubling waters at the river delta. One might not clash only if one wanders a time upstream.
And so I shall, for only is my mind able to be spoken con* after departing that which troubles it.
I wonder if the kind stag-chosen remembers me, she speaks aloud, under her breath. She stares down at the pond at her face, flawed in only ways that the seer can ever see. If only time would speak...
* con = with (in spanish, pronounced "cone")
...;O <3 -- Dannii <3
<3
-- Dannii <3