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31_days2010-03-20 11:35 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2010-03-20 11:35 pm
[March 21] [Last Unicorn]Change of Heart
Title: Change of Heart
Day/Theme: 21. Tired of the always puzzle of living and doing
Series: Last Unicorn
Character/Pairing: Amalthea
Rating: PG
She couldn’t begin to comprehend all the noisy clumsy ways of the new world she found herself in. All her old grace, all her old certainty, was crippled and imprisoned by this horrible, perishable body. Her beauty was not, but only if the man could be believed.
He told her many things, nothing useful or meaningful. He only told her about herself, as if he would know better than she did, and maybe in this place, in this form, he did. It still meant nothing. It had never mattered that she was beautiful, why should it matter now? He went on about noble blood, as if the pedigrees of kings mattered any more to her than the nesting habits of songbirds.
He brought her fabric he promised was fine, though it would never compare to her own silvery hide. He strung words together like dewdrops on a spiderweb to flatter her. She tuned it out with the rest of his chatter. He went out looking for her brother and sister legends to destroy and presented her with their carcasses as if she was the one to blame for it.
It was hard to bear, but she had no choice. She stared down at the sea, let the constants of it soothe her immortal senses. The sound of it drowned out the human buzz around her. The neverending shift of color and light and darkness filled up her eyes, gave her something to stare at that wasn’t him. The smell of it kept her from noticing his.
She couldn’t pretend. She was helpless, trapped, like the poor collared creatures in the tapestries. She refused to take any joy in this exile or acknowledge that for the first time in her long, long life, her own heart was changing.
Day/Theme: 21. Tired of the always puzzle of living and doing
Series: Last Unicorn
Character/Pairing: Amalthea
Rating: PG
She couldn’t begin to comprehend all the noisy clumsy ways of the new world she found herself in. All her old grace, all her old certainty, was crippled and imprisoned by this horrible, perishable body. Her beauty was not, but only if the man could be believed.
He told her many things, nothing useful or meaningful. He only told her about herself, as if he would know better than she did, and maybe in this place, in this form, he did. It still meant nothing. It had never mattered that she was beautiful, why should it matter now? He went on about noble blood, as if the pedigrees of kings mattered any more to her than the nesting habits of songbirds.
He brought her fabric he promised was fine, though it would never compare to her own silvery hide. He strung words together like dewdrops on a spiderweb to flatter her. She tuned it out with the rest of his chatter. He went out looking for her brother and sister legends to destroy and presented her with their carcasses as if she was the one to blame for it.
It was hard to bear, but she had no choice. She stared down at the sea, let the constants of it soothe her immortal senses. The sound of it drowned out the human buzz around her. The neverending shift of color and light and darkness filled up her eyes, gave her something to stare at that wasn’t him. The smell of it kept her from noticing his.
She couldn’t pretend. She was helpless, trapped, like the poor collared creatures in the tapestries. She refused to take any joy in this exile or acknowledge that for the first time in her long, long life, her own heart was changing.