Post by rose on Aug 7, 2007 13:25:45 GMT -5
His journey is over.
This thought, repeating like a mantra inside his head, brings some measure of comfort to the world-weary stallion. There are many other thoughts in there too, thoughts that would frighten or anger rather than soothe, but he pushes these to the back of his mind for the moment and finds solace in inertia. Fresh grass makes a nice chance beneath his hooves, and the air is thick with the scent of life. There is no death here yet, not destruction and nothing is flawed. The place is perfect and he longs for perfection, longs for it just as surely as he knows that he will never truly attain it. He can always hope, though.
Hope and rest, because he is tired and the vegetation here is shady and welcoming. Sighing faintly into the breeze, he shifts the dark muscle of his body until it is shaded beneath protective branches, and only here does he finally allow himself to relax. He isn’t quite sure how far he has travelled, or even how long it has taken. Days tend to merge into one when you have nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. Mercy has had enough of his own thoughts; he would like to forget about them, just like he would like to forget about everything unpleasant in the world. It doesn’t occur to him that in the eyes of others, he is something that is unpleasant.
Foolishly, perhaps, he believes that there is still happiness out there waiting for him, if only he can catch up to it. True contentment is a flight temptress, he knows, and she always seem to evade him, but he will trap her somehow and then everything will be right. He’d like that. He’d like a lot of things that he won’t ever have, but somehow, resting quietly beneath his tree, he can’t help but feel a sense of peace steal over him.
He knows, deep down, that peace will never last long when he is around. Disorder is his constant companion, whether he invites her along for the ride or not, but for the moment all is well and Mercy can sleep.
This thought, repeating like a mantra inside his head, brings some measure of comfort to the world-weary stallion. There are many other thoughts in there too, thoughts that would frighten or anger rather than soothe, but he pushes these to the back of his mind for the moment and finds solace in inertia. Fresh grass makes a nice chance beneath his hooves, and the air is thick with the scent of life. There is no death here yet, not destruction and nothing is flawed. The place is perfect and he longs for perfection, longs for it just as surely as he knows that he will never truly attain it. He can always hope, though.
Hope and rest, because he is tired and the vegetation here is shady and welcoming. Sighing faintly into the breeze, he shifts the dark muscle of his body until it is shaded beneath protective branches, and only here does he finally allow himself to relax. He isn’t quite sure how far he has travelled, or even how long it has taken. Days tend to merge into one when you have nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. Mercy has had enough of his own thoughts; he would like to forget about them, just like he would like to forget about everything unpleasant in the world. It doesn’t occur to him that in the eyes of others, he is something that is unpleasant.
Foolishly, perhaps, he believes that there is still happiness out there waiting for him, if only he can catch up to it. True contentment is a flight temptress, he knows, and she always seem to evade him, but he will trap her somehow and then everything will be right. He’d like that. He’d like a lot of things that he won’t ever have, but somehow, resting quietly beneath his tree, he can’t help but feel a sense of peace steal over him.
He knows, deep down, that peace will never last long when he is around. Disorder is his constant companion, whether he invites her along for the ride or not, but for the moment all is well and Mercy can sleep.