I find it extremely annoying that he has this cool indifferent voice. No one can be that apathetic. No one. Trust me I've tried being so apathetic to everyone ever since my parents died, but I am not ice cold and uncaring. My parents didn't raise me to be like that. I was raised to care. It is a blessing and a curse I think. I am not sure how I am supposed to take it with sitting on top of this guy in his lap. I know it is wrong, but I have to admit at least my butt is warm and not up against the cold steel bench. His poem and his interest in my answer does surprise me. I must admit I am not sure which answer is correct and which one he would approve of. So, I do my best to answer honestly, because well, that was just how I was raised. His response to my answer causes me to tilt my head slightly, bright blue eyes staring into his one exposed violet eye. That he does not believe that I would die of morals is quite funny to me. I mean, my parents died by their beliefs, their good moral values, and who is to say I wouldn't follow in their footsteps. Reluctantly I shrug my shoulders in a helpless manner, moving my arms to cross in front of me, a way to comfort myself.


"That's how anyone ever dies...moral values."

I turn my head away from his direction as I just stare at the trees within the woods. It is painful to think about my parents and their death. I still haven't really gotten used to it, and really, who would? Losing both parents at such a young age...it just sucks â€" really it does. The rhythmical pounding of his fingers tapping the steel bench seemed a bit appeasing, relaxing almost. My attention returns to him when he eats the apple and I simply take a bite in the same place, allowing the crunching sounds to attempt to block my thoughts about my parents. As he shifts below me I look down and my eyes widen slightly for noticing his hands wrapping around each of my wrists. His grip isn't painful, but it is firm. Frowning some I stay still waiting to see just what he had in mind. It did not occur to me that a magical horse man would have the capability of making me warm and cold. I listen quietly as feel his left hand tighten on my left wrist and feel the flaring sensation of warmth light up my arm. It is quite comforting. Yet when he grabs my right wrist and holds tightly I feel a bite more painful feeling of ice shoot up my arm and I cringe. Both are extreme and already I can feel my body spazz out as it attempts to correct this extreme bizarre error. His magic I find interesting and yet I am a bit wary about it. When he lets me go I instantly cross my arms as if to try to help my body return to its normal temperature. As he shifts to get from under me, I ease into the bench, my bright eyes lifting upwards as I give him a small smile.

"You answered it yourself...'too much of either is a bad thing perhaps, but just enough of both is significantly more life giving then destroying' â€" you can't be classified as good or bad â€" and that is dangerous."

His sexual comment causes me to roll my eyes as I snort with disgust. Really must he always make sexual comments with horses. I mean come on...cant he try something new to say. I simply look back down at the apple and take a bite, allowing his eyes to continue to be on me for a moment. I am not so bothered by it a bit. Yet I feel a familiar buzzing coming from my side pocket and I pull out the cellular phone, clicking the button to see many text messages coming from my handlers â€" informing me that sneaking out of the house was forbidden and I was grounded. With a heavy sigh I look back up at him with a small sad simper.

"Maybe we will...if I'm ever allowed out again."

Calliel Alosi

Now I'm Unbreakable, It's Unmistakable