there are no markings on her country roads
no signs that show the way back home
It was the odd necklace buried beneath Otem's tangled auburn mane that answered the golden stallion's question. The voice was that of Isopia, but of course you don't know who that is, do you? Otem does, and the sound of her mother's academic tone resonating outwards makes her body stiffen.
"Giving up has its own obligations and difficulties." The necklace began, "Why should anyone think that it is easier? One can find assistance typically, if they are going on, but not if they are giving up."
Otem holds her breath, wondering if the necklace would continue. But it falls silent, and Otem can feel her heart wanting to pine for all the lost moments between mother and child. "It does that sometimes." Otem forces herself to say, unconsciously trying to mimic the academic cadence of the now-silent necklace. She doesn't bother giving a name to the voice, for as she turns on awkwardly long limbs to face the stallion, she does not recognize his face.
Not a Helovian then.
"I'm not sure I know how to give up." The girl begins, bi-coloured eyes moving up and then away, finding it hard to stare into the stranger's eyes for more than a few moments at once. "It doesn't seem like there's anyway back.." Her voice trails off, and it doesn't occur to her that if this man is not from Helovia, then he probably does not know about the portal that once appeared here. Instead, she merely unconsciously accepts that he must have some sort of sight, for instead of offering her a bed (the literally meaning of being tired), he instead interpreted her as being mentally tired (quite correctly too).
And so, instead of elaborating further, the tribrid allows her shoulders to rise and fall, bearing the weight of the words that are too hard to say.
The Portal
