Alina

She was quick to pull her pink muzzle away from the exhausted dog when the stallion claimed that he wasn’t very friendly. She did not want to get bitten; an open wound would soon turn ugly in this environment. Only the thought of salty sweat dripping into a bloody gash made the dove shiver. To be safe she even shuffled her tan hooves and moved a few inches away from the canine.

As she looked to the sweaty stallion again she noticed that the odd coloring of his face was not markings, but scarring. He looked like he had been burned, but the pattern of the scarring was so strange; almost seemed like he somehow had gotten liquid fire thrown at him. Alina wondered what he had been through and she wanted so badly to ask, but her inquiries were shackled by her politeness. Instead she just gave him another warm smile, without knowing how much her smiling agitated him.

”A pleasure meeting you sir Ricochet.” She nodded when he spoke his name. She turned her gaze to the dog and nodded to him too. ”And you too, Guns.” Even though Ricochet was treating Guns differently Alina didn’t know that there were a difference between this dog and the other companions she had met, so she treated him as she had learnt to treat Gaucho’s snake and Africa’s zephyr: like equals.

As Ricochet spoke again Alina watched his stern features. She thought he looked so tense; like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She even got the impression that this stallion hadn’t been relaxed for a long, long time. Motherly as she was, Alina instantly wanted to make him feel better. Slowly she took a few steps closer, not at all meaning to look flirtatious, however her graceful movement may come across as so. ”I am just exploring. What about you, sir Ricochet? I would very much like to hear your story.” She said in a soft voice and allowed her emerald eyes to meet his teal ones - smiling more softly this time.

Now that she was standing closer to his stocky frame she searched for any indication that there had been a horn on his forehead, but she found none. She guessed that it must have been snapped off just at the base and when he was very young. Her compassion for the buttermilk stallion grew with every conclusion her brain jumped to and had she known how far off she were her embarrassment would have known no boundaries.

Alina carefully extended her pink muzzle; aiming for Ricochet’s withers. If he would allow it she was meaning to nuzzle and scratch him. The dove herself found that to be the best remedy for a tense body and mind.

[Ooc; I am very unaccustomed to use the word "sir" so if it sounds wrong or silly, please tell me! :D]

bg and flower: locolobo.net