[She hadn't meant to pry. She'd just heard a noise coming from inside, something that sounded like a baby animal crying, and so she'd knocked, and the door had opened just the smallest bit, and, well, one thing always led to another. She'd looked for a solid ten minutes, upstairs and down, calling for whoever or whatever might have been inside, but the only thing that answers her are the echoes of her own voice. Nobody home. Not that that's unusual.
Before she leaves, she lingers for a moment more, and her eyes fall upon a framed picture on a table near the door. There's a moment of hesitation as she reaches out, but inevitably she picks it up, fingers brushing at the slightly dusty glass. Six girls smile up at her, mid-laugh, frozen forever. She traces one cheek, an arm around a shoulder, as the corner of her mouth twists just a little. There's a noise behind her, the creak of the door opening, but she doesn't move. The people who lived in these places don't come home, in her experience.]
I know some people think these houses are creepy, but I don't know. I just think it's...kind of sad. What about you?
Seven: Network
[They say that Death rides a pale horse. Sunset Shimmer knows now that isn't true. Death is a pale horse, towering and small all at the same time. She's looking at him right now, at the familiar shape of hooves and muzzle and flank, feeling the echoes of those limbs in her now-familiar fingers, the faint weight of a horn on her brow. In death, maybe, she's what she used to be. Old Sunset and new. He tells her she can go back, finish what she started, but she has to make a sacrifice. Has to give up something in exchange. She opens her mouth, but what he takes isn't exactly what she'd planned to give. Maybe that's why he took it.
Which is why this network post is text, unlike all of her previous. You can't make a voice post without a voice, after all.]
This might be a little weird, but is there anyone out there who knows sign language? And can teach it?
Sunset Shimmer | Equestria Girls
[She hadn't meant to pry. She'd just heard a noise coming from inside, something that sounded like a baby animal crying, and so she'd knocked, and the door had opened just the smallest bit, and, well, one thing always led to another. She'd looked for a solid ten minutes, upstairs and down, calling for whoever or whatever might have been inside, but the only thing that answers her are the echoes of her own voice. Nobody home. Not that that's unusual.
Before she leaves, she lingers for a moment more, and her eyes fall upon a framed picture on a table near the door. There's a moment of hesitation as she reaches out, but inevitably she picks it up, fingers brushing at the slightly dusty glass. Six girls smile up at her, mid-laugh, frozen forever. She traces one cheek, an arm around a shoulder, as the corner of her mouth twists just a little. There's a noise behind her, the creak of the door opening, but she doesn't move. The people who lived in these places don't come home, in her experience.]
I know some people think these houses are creepy, but I don't know. I just think it's...kind of sad. What about you?
Seven: Network
[They say that Death rides a pale horse. Sunset Shimmer knows now that isn't true. Death is a pale horse, towering and small all at the same time. She's looking at him right now, at the familiar shape of hooves and muzzle and flank, feeling the echoes of those limbs in her now-familiar fingers, the faint weight of a horn on her brow. In death, maybe, she's what she used to be. Old Sunset and new. He tells her she can go back, finish what she started, but she has to make a sacrifice. Has to give up something in exchange. She opens her mouth, but what he takes isn't exactly what she'd planned to give. Maybe that's why he took it.
Which is why this network post is text, unlike all of her previous. You can't make a voice post without a voice, after all.]
This might be a little weird, but is there anyone out there who knows sign language? And can teach it?