newtella

✹Sea Smoke✹ — The ocean breathes. —

“ Every morning, when I wake, I’m not greeted by the safety of the morning light or the warmth and gentle fragrance of my sun city. Instead, I face an endless, all consuming fog and choke on the obtrusive scent of foreign docks beneath my hooves. As if I've been reduced to a child, I cower in the mist and race down the lanes as I did in those creaking corridors of my old home with a lantern – trusty companion, my pocket sun – slung forward like a guide or perhaps an offering to the dark. Despite how alien this place feels to me, I still hold onto hope that one day the sight of the sea will bring me some familiarity. Unlike Paramoor, though, the ocean here is dark and if the certainty of a bottom exists, I cannot find it. I cannot find anything. Only my lone reflection in the water. …Once, however, I thought I saw eyes other than my own beneath the waves. I do not know if I preferred them belonging to a figment of my imagination – an indication of my fraying mind – or a body. And if it belonged to a body, I do not know whether to prefer it belonging to a live one or one long passed. “