Sure, she could have done everything she wanted to. She could have easily have spelled that snoozing hart nearby, make him her pretty little peacock, if only for a second. She could have completely ignored the butterfly doe next to him, as she protested the snowflake's playfully malicious act. She could have stepped on the Mini nearby, with all the intent of being grating, annoying.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have easily have been an ass the night before, and gave that poor Nightfall stag a hard time, with a flash of sugar brown, and a flurry of feathers right beside her. She could have told off the large chocolate stag nearby, telling him that fighting got no one anywhere. She could have really jumped in on the fighting, the Kabuki pelted stag swinging wildly this way and that. She was convinced he was Bi Polar, and could have easily have told him off hours before, when he circled her, sniffed her, thinking about it, and oh yes, he was thinking about that coat of snow, so pure in its presentation, so tainted underneath.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have been running and jumping with them the whole time, ribbons of red, black, blue, gold, white, colliding, meshing like they were one. She could have been the prankster that trumpet antlered the largest one, the leader, as he snorted and bellowed at her, and oh, she would just laugh it off.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have done everything in-between, white fur shedding its way off of her, her back to the world, wind sneaking through her helm. She could have taken her helm off, said "Fuck you all," and exposed that ugly -though everyone said "Beautiful"- face, hints of red gathering at her cheeks. She could have been the one that everyone loved, that danced with them all, waltzing and swinging. She could have jumped in the Pond, knowing what it would do to her, but she wouldn't care. She'd just skinny dip her way around the Pond, give them all something to really look at, as she giggled at their foolishness.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

Truth be told, she preferred to sit. She only had rare inclinations to play, and even then, it was rather brief. She balked at those who were strangers to her, her side stepping and empty glance unwelcome at best. She clung to those she knew like lovers in Mid Summer, them being oh-so precious to her; she wouldn't know what to do if she lost them.

She always said it was because she was lazy; one told her that she wasn't lazy; that she was simply saving her energy for when she really needed to run. She sincerely hoped that day would never come.

But maybe, she was just conflicting with herself. That desire for company, yet feeling so restricted, so recluse. She wanted to be left alone, and yet she always felt that tugging at her chest, that building whirlwind of emotion that dragged her to everyone she knew. And even if they didn't want company - or at least, when she thought they didn't want it - she wandered to them anyway, her head hung low, her body parallel to them, submissive, "Please don't hurt me, I just want some company..."

The sun peeks through the trees like children in a game of tag. The hart is still sleeping, the butterfly doe is still there. The white doe sits perfectly still, lost in thoughts thought time and time again, music fluttering through her head, making her feel distant and oh-so melancholy. She dreams of being a human, living in a cottage all by herself, the walls blue, the furniture grey, stale, yet simply sublime at the same time. She lays herself on the bed, the moonlight just peeking through. She's tired yet restless, and she hates that feeling, that feeling of wanting to sleep, but not quite even having the energy for that, which was pathetic at best. A part of her hates the melancholy, and yet, she gravitates to it, feeling like she's in another world entirely. Forget the mortals that were here; they were nothing, just objects in a stale, cruel world.

A shifting noise jerks her out of her security blanket, and she turns her head to see the hart waking up, greeting the butterfly doe before walking to greet her. She rises and greets, the side of her helm rubbing gently against the stag's neck, a nuzzle of friendship and trials stomped flat.

She watches him bound in circles around them, the butterfly doe joining in. She watches the way their bodies skirt so close to each other, almost crashing, but dancing out of the way last minute. They stop a moment to look at her, each one inviting her in their own ways.

She could have played with them, her white body mixing with brown sugar and monarch swirls. She could have laughed and teased playfully, as one of them tripped and fell on their face. She could have been the ultimate playmate, that insecurity vanishing in an instant.

But no.

She sits perfectly still.