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Bellisma
She remained still, painfully slender legs rooted to the misted earth, as her dark ashen prince approached. His sharp gaze met hers—and she visibly relaxed the moment she saw him soften to her.
And her green eyes drank him in as he neared. She had not seen him in…over a year? The crest of his neck had filled, flexing beneath a two-toned mane with each step. His jaw- it had firmed and grown to a masculine jowls, set off by the inked markings that lent an elegant masculinity to his face. The stripes of his back gleamed in prisms, the small spots leaping and shining over bands of sinew. And his height—how he had grown! Towering over her small frame with height and brawn! He was a colt no longer.
But, what would normally send fear racing through her veins, sent some other thrill— excitement.
”I told my mother about you.”
Fluted ears perked, nearly tipping towards each other as her small, dished face cocked slightly. She wasn’t certain how she felt about her colt’s family knowing about her… Though Kianzo’s next words brought about a decided reaction in her:“I don’t think she understands.”
A soft, short snort pushed out of her nostrils as a single fore hoof stamped in the grass—and she shocked herself with the depth of such irritation that boiled through her. Of course Kianzo’s dam wouldn’t understand; of course this beautiful colt’s mother would try to come between what the gold pixie had shared with him. She had taught him lessons worth learning! She had spent time with him, honest hours learning and talking and simply listening. Far more than that absent, pretty-faced mother had done. Zo’s dam been far too wrapped around her King to see her son for what he may have become, if not for Bellisma’s intervention.
So her green eyes were wide, white-rimmed, as such a fierce emotion in her brought out her instinctive and ever-present fear alongside her anger. She took a half-step towards him, bringing her face close to his—an unheard of display of brashness in the timid, broken creature. But this was Kianzo, her colt and pupil. He couldn’t harm her.
“But do you understand?” Her voice, although persistently pleasant to the ear, held a bite to it. Her small, curved chest was puffed out (nearly comically), as she stared up at the young stallion, “Do you understand what we shared?” …now there was a different edge to her voice. Desperation? Need?
The small woman, so beaten by years of mental torment and abusive use of her beautiful body, needed this colt to understand. To understand that he had given her hope, in addition to what she had taught him.
He had given her freedom to be brave.
And her green eyes drank him in as he neared. She had not seen him in…over a year? The crest of his neck had filled, flexing beneath a two-toned mane with each step. His jaw- it had firmed and grown to a masculine jowls, set off by the inked markings that lent an elegant masculinity to his face. The stripes of his back gleamed in prisms, the small spots leaping and shining over bands of sinew. And his height—how he had grown! Towering over her small frame with height and brawn! He was a colt no longer.
But, what would normally send fear racing through her veins, sent some other thrill— excitement.
Fluted ears perked, nearly tipping towards each other as her small, dished face cocked slightly. She wasn’t certain how she felt about her colt’s family knowing about her… Though Kianzo’s next words brought about a decided reaction in her:
A soft, short snort pushed out of her nostrils as a single fore hoof stamped in the grass—and she shocked herself with the depth of such irritation that boiled through her. Of course Kianzo’s dam wouldn’t understand; of course this beautiful colt’s mother would try to come between what the gold pixie had shared with him. She had taught him lessons worth learning! She had spent time with him, honest hours learning and talking and simply listening. Far more than that absent, pretty-faced mother had done. Zo’s dam been far too wrapped around her King to see her son for what he may have become, if not for Bellisma’s intervention.
So her green eyes were wide, white-rimmed, as such a fierce emotion in her brought out her instinctive and ever-present fear alongside her anger. She took a half-step towards him, bringing her face close to his—an unheard of display of brashness in the timid, broken creature. But this was Kianzo, her colt and pupil. He couldn’t harm her.
“But do you understand?” Her voice, although persistently pleasant to the ear, held a bite to it. Her small, curved chest was puffed out (nearly comically), as she stared up at the young stallion, “Do you understand what we shared?” …now there was a different edge to her voice. Desperation? Need?
The small woman, so beaten by years of mental torment and abusive use of her beautiful body, needed this colt to understand. To understand that he had given her hope, in addition to what she had taught him.
He had given her freedom to be brave.
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