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07-12-2017, 08:40 PM
Själ
The princess mare wasn't sure what she had expected of the furry white lump. Having seen the way his ribs rose too high above his skin, the lackluster dullness of his coat, the way he just seemed content to lay there - well. She certainly hadn't expected him to have a backbone, that's for damn sure. And yet, to her gruff greeting, the saucy stallion snapped a startling reply. The woman's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly as Ansgar cackled on her haunches.
And then, in spite of herself, she laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound. "Well, Master Snapping Turtle," she began after a moment, her voice a tad bit warmer than before and her eyes sparkling with something akin to merriment. "I'd rather stick to the body I know, if it's all the same to you." The mare cocked her head to the side, her horns glinting in the scant light from above. She wondered if he had realized what an easy target he'd made himself. Even if she hadn't any horns, her daggers could have killed him in half a heartbeat.
But she wasn't really the kills-for-fun sort, so she left her head raised and her daggers sheathed.
"To be honest," she continued, taking a few steps to the side to peer at the stallions hooves, "you make a dreadful turtle. Now, let's see if we can't - oh!" Själ had discovered the bloody trail left by the stallion's tearing skin. There was a momentary flash of guilt that lit her amber eyes. They were so like her mother's, but Psyche the DarkEmpress had never felt bad about any of her transgressions (or so Själ assumed). And, polite as she had been, Själ's words to the stallion moments before had technically been true. She should not have been so quick to judge. It wasn't like she had been on her way out, anyway.
"You're hurt," she stated, flicking her gaze to his face, where she might meet his eyes. Her voice, carefully trained since her time in Helovia to betray very little emotion, was not as neutral as it could have been. Concern lingered there, and a determination to be of help if she could. Whatever outer facade she might show the world (and she had to show them something other than all the broken parts inside), she would not turn away from someone in need.
Själ looked around helplessly. Even if she could jump him and stay standing, what would she do? Attempts to shove him would merely pierce his skin with horn or hoof. "Can I help, or...?"
"Speak."
--Ansgar.--
And then, in spite of herself, she laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound. "Well, Master Snapping Turtle," she began after a moment, her voice a tad bit warmer than before and her eyes sparkling with something akin to merriment. "I'd rather stick to the body I know, if it's all the same to you." The mare cocked her head to the side, her horns glinting in the scant light from above. She wondered if he had realized what an easy target he'd made himself. Even if she hadn't any horns, her daggers could have killed him in half a heartbeat.
But she wasn't really the kills-for-fun sort, so she left her head raised and her daggers sheathed.
"To be honest," she continued, taking a few steps to the side to peer at the stallions hooves, "you make a dreadful turtle. Now, let's see if we can't - oh!" Själ had discovered the bloody trail left by the stallion's tearing skin. There was a momentary flash of guilt that lit her amber eyes. They were so like her mother's, but Psyche the DarkEmpress had never felt bad about any of her transgressions (or so Själ assumed). And, polite as she had been, Själ's words to the stallion moments before had technically been true. She should not have been so quick to judge. It wasn't like she had been on her way out, anyway.
"You're hurt," she stated, flicking her gaze to his face, where she might meet his eyes. Her voice, carefully trained since her time in Helovia to betray very little emotion, was not as neutral as it could have been. Concern lingered there, and a determination to be of help if she could. Whatever outer facade she might show the world (and she had to show them something other than all the broken parts inside), she would not turn away from someone in need.
Själ looked around helplessly. Even if she could jump him and stay standing, what would she do? Attempts to shove him would merely pierce his skin with horn or hoof. "Can I help, or...?"
"Speak."
--Ansgar.--
@Mauja
Pixel by Reli <3
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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
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