Name Disciplined breakdown
date 9/18/99
author Stana

Disciplined Breakdown:

I never ever can remember
All the things that go bump in the night
quietness uncovers
betrayal now hovers
and my comfort levels not quite right
Id love to stay and evaluate
but my torture cant wait
It seems I'm losing ground
Welcome all to my disciplined breakdown

The caverns grew increasingly claustrophobic as the group moved in and
through the mountains. All around echoing were the sounds of breathing
and muted whispers. Teri's Stallion and the dappled the General rode
were fidgeting within the confines.  Teri ducked something quickly as
the group proceeded further in.

Clip watched them with disgust. Even without the Alicorn aloft his brow
he would be distinguishable by the way he carried himself and the
uncanny wealth of knowledge in the ageless eyes.  These fidgeting
beasts were hardly a mockery of true equine nature.

From his back he felt the weight of the girl, but other than the wound
fingers in his mane, her contact was as minimal as possible, given the
circumstances. She didn't try at all to guide, but let him have his own
way.   Her attentions were bordering on indifferent.

He would have been in a state of jealousy had he not been so completely
disquieted by her complete behavioral turnaround.  Even for a mortal
it seemed largely unnatural. The Earth girl Teri had thought so
too...but was undeniably alienated from his Chosen.

Clip indulged in a purely equine sigh, his sides barely heaving with
the effort, and his expressive eyes conveying his annoyance more
eloquently then anything else would have. He cast his thoughts back
over the previous months to when they had first met. She had been tart,
but fairly cheerful. Obnoxiously so at times. Even when they had been
to the Healers hut she had been at least predictable.

Clip's own memories were hampered during the time immediately following
leaving the hut. He remembered that their group had been attacked in
the forest, the girl hit...but little else. There was the time in the
underground caverns surrounded by the stench of mortality, and the
wizards ilk. Stana had found the key to release the Princess...and was
given the Amulet in token.

Clip veered this thoughts from that path. He would not acknowledge that
her attitude change had anything to do with the emblem around her neck.
The stories told about the last mortal to wear that Amulet was a tale
to frighten children. Clip was no longer a sprawl legged colt to be
frightened by such myths.

But a nagging worry continued to gnaw on his mind. The time of her
gaining the pendant, and her veer from normalcy juxtaposed. Shortly
after leaving the princess her silences grew longer, desire for
companionship waned. Her presence was accompanied by chilled word
with a colder emotion...if there was any emotion at all.

And there were the bad dreams she refused to admit to.

More than one night she had thrashed her way out of an uneasy slumber,
wakening him with the violence of her struggles. Other times quiet
sobbing and implausible denials greeted his terse inquiries. Sometimes
she refused to answer at all.

It was the lying that was the most disturbing. She seemed to know how
flimsy her words were, and cared not at all that everyone saw through
them to the dishonesty therein.

And yet within the confines of the Aethyr she had seemed to be
progressing back to her original personality...as if the darkness had
been unable to reach her unfettered dreams. At least not until later
on. He would bet she had not had a single nights undisturbed rest since
the battle in the Nachtmer.

So this then was what it would be like dealing with mortals. Subject to
their strange and alien whims, victimized by their doubts and petty
hatreds. Bound to their fear of death. He could no more understand them
then he could understand the inane babble of the horses ahead. His
regard for them was no more than the regard that the trees would have
for the shadows blasted away by the rising sun. Nothing that was
temporal had real substance. Nothing so fleeting as mortal life could
be considered worthy of effort or care. There was no point in it.

He felt again the light touch of her fingers knotted in his mane and
wanted nothing more than to run from this all--and not look back.