As the two of you spoke, the water continued to rise and random waves washed much further up the beach than the last. You raise your right fore, the fox unraveling from your body and quickly trotting away from the approaching wave; it is only deep enough to wet your weathered hooves, but the young snow fox keeps her distance. Rummy nose reaches out to sniff at the freshly opened wound that decorates the golden woman's otherwise clean coat, but you can feel (and see) the tension coarse through her body as you draw closer to her light flesh. Unsure and embarrassed, you pull away swiftly and in time to listen to the stranger who now has a name become confused over your own. The panic flits in her small voice as she questions whether or not to call you by your name.. or by a calling.
You straighten yourself, raising your long skull back into the air. Just as baffled as you had been before, you shake your head slowly, discolored snout bobbing back and forth. "J-just Voodoo, Bellisma?" you murmur, matching ears turning in opposite directions on either side of your head as you watch the woman. Ouija spots a sand bird fluttering in and out of the dune grass and her brain is immediately switched from "I want attention" to "I want food", and she sneaks away toward a makeshift trail in the grass to stock her prey. Used to her wandering, you wouldn't have noticed her exit if it weren't for that blood-thirsty rumble in her stomach that was mentally passed onto you. The idea of bird bones crunching as she snacked made your stomach twist, but not as badly as the explanation of the wound that comes from the foreign lady.
“There was a-a chain— my master, old master, kept me-” 'Master-' we repeated the word, our mouths filling with hot saliva while we crave the word that we once felt was so close and dear to our cold hearts. Hot nails curled and pressed into the soft palms of our scaly hands, the jagged edges stabbing the flesh hard enough to draw dark blood and make us shiver with excitement. As hard as it is to listen, you let Bellisma finish, the confusion that had played on your face replaced with a deep empathy that failed to reach your lifeless eyes. “It’s gone now. I’m just waiting for the scar to heal."
"I'm so sorry." Your voice is distant while you try to avoid imagining the woman being held hostage in a dingy cave, but somehow it comes out clear and without a stutter. Glossy eyes flit down to the healing wound again, and even though the blood is no longer seeping as quickly from her body as it had been in the ocean, you still can't help but stare. In a horrible effort to comfort the stranger, you drop your snout to the wound again, eyes trying to meet her own for a moment to reassure her that you weren't pressing any boundaries.
Finally, faux lips are tainted with actual blood, the thin, tiny line appearing shockingly bright on the dull color that stays printed on your face. Your nostrils flutter as you draw in the scent, the ware of metal clear to your over-sensitive nasal passage, but whether you're gathering the copper tinged scent of blood or actual metal isn't clear in your mind; you haven't ever directly sniffed anyone's armor or, in this case, source of confinement. You only touch skin to skin for a few seconds when suddenly your own back left leg is burning and you swear you can feel the salt eating away at your own limb. Startled, you pull away from Bellisma, ears falling back onto wild black curls and brows furrowing. Blood begins to drip from a new slit just below your hock, the thick liquid beading and rolling slowly, easily missed as it tries to blend with the dark color of your hide.
A stiff breath catches in your throat. Just as puzzled as you, we watch through our foggy windows, not sure what to do or say until one of us finally speaks up. 'You... you're magic?' A silence lingered in your skull. Nearly ten seconds passes before you can look back at Bellisma's leg: the blood has stopped and the open wound has instead been replaced with a healed scar, the small area that you made contact with looking more aged than the rest of the white dashes that sprinkled her leg. "Did you see that?" The words are but a whisper, easily missed over the calm waves that still reach higher and higher, eating away at the white beach.
"Voodoo." 'Ouija.' 'Voices.'
Permission to heal by Smitty! <3
@[Bellisma]
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 5389e9aca8b63]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5389e9aca8b63)
