Username: Manx
Name: Menagerie : I chose this name based on the play "The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams. One of the main characters, a young adult by the name of Laura, is rather broken. Physically, she walks with a slight limp due to a childhood illness, and although this has little impact on her mobility, it more so affects her mentally. Faced with crippling anxiety, she has a hard time fitting in with others, and things that other poeple can do with ease, she has a hard time doing. To help her anxiety, Laura had a glass menagerie; a collection of little glass animals that were as fragile as her. When I first saw the 'broken' quipping, this was the very first thing that came to mind. c:
Age: 4 years
Height: 12.2hh
Why is she "Broken"?
The silence of the cool night was broken only by the soft hoot of a lone owl, and the uneven plods of a lone equid mare. Exhaustion pounded through her limbs, and each step brought her forward shakily. Her mind was in no better shape, with the anxieties and doubts of the day spinning dizzily through her head. The primal urge to run still filled her, yet she knew that doing so was beyond her capacity. She knew it was no true threat that caused her instinct of flight, but rather the threat imagined in her own mind. Menagerie wobbled nauseously as the thought filled her mind, almost causing her to slip on the rocky slope, as the doubts pounded once more into her mind, twice as strong as before. 'Why must you be a failure? Why can't you be strong, like the others? Why must you allow your weaknesses overcome you?' Those and many others swam around in her mind, and Menagerie once again felt the strong urge to run, run away from her anxieties and fears. Her sides heaved as her breath came quicker, and she struggled to control the emotions milling within her.
She had to get it under control; she just had to. The others always gave her strange looks as she succumbed to her anxieties over the smallest of things. If she was forced to do something, she panicked. If something was intimidating and new, she panicked. If someone so much as said the wrong thing, or gave her a strange look, she panicked. It was illogical, she knew. Many of those things were really nothing, and shouldn't cause the sort of anxiety she had. Yet, she couldn't seem to control the feelings that grew and overwhelmed her. The other equids rarely understood her anxiety attacks, and would often get angry, scared, or just laugh at her. Even her own mother would at times look at her as if she was crazy, and often become mad and tell her to pull it together. It wasn't as though she never tried; her emotions simply overwhelmed her, far past her control. Menagerie shook her head and forcefully moved her tired limbs, attempting to banish the demoralizing thoughts from her mind. Her problems were hers and hers alone; her burden to carry, and her battle to fight.
Menagerie dragged herself onward, only coming to a halt as she reached a small mountain pool, fed by a trickling stream of water on the rock face. Her anxiety having worn her out and jumbled her emotions, she miserably lowered her muzzle to the cool water and drank. Lifting her muzzle as she finished, she glanced down at her reflection in the pool. Ripples shattered the glassy surface, making her reflection look distorted and broken. Her grey quipping was evident, breaking her white coat into pieces. Menagerie glanced away at the distressing image. Her mother's coat was of the purest white, untainted by marks. Her own quipping always seemed like a constant reminder of her imperfection; the fact that she could never be truly perfect.
From the corner of her eye, something white caught her attention. A snow white lily bent in the breeze, clinging desperately to a small patch of dirt on the otherwise empty mountainside. Despite resisting the elements that surely battered it, it rose in perfection, without a single nick on any of its velvety white petals. It's middle shone with a vibrant yellow, seeming to symbolize its fight and victory of life in almost impossible conditions. Seeing the lily brought a soft smile to Menagerie's muzzle. Few things could survive this far up; even trees that managed to grow were bent and twisted. Yet, it managed to survive; a piece of beauty in the middle of the barren landscape. The breeze suddenly stopped, allowing the water to settle once more into a glassy reflection. For one, clear moment, Menagerie looked down and saw herself whole. Although the grey streaks of quip still shattered her otherwise smooth white coat, she for a mere second saw a mare who was simply herself at peace, the anxiety no longer displayed across her weary muzzle, the doubts no longer clouding her blue eyes. A diamond in the rough; or perhaps a lily on a ragged mountain...
