The horned mare notes that she had seen a fat hare, making it clear to you exactly why she had taken off again. Damn mutt needs to learn to stick around. She's going to give you a fucking heart attack one day we grumble below our breath, crossing our arms like pissed off six-year-olds, but you ignore us, your nose already touching her soft white fur by this time. A gruff throat-clearing allows us to watch the red-filtered view lift from the dead earth and back up to the ivory female, the smile lowering into a shy grin like a blushing middle schooler. Confused words tumble from the mare who was apparently not very happy with your unfocused attention.

"How do you keep her around? Isn't she wild?" Ouija slides down into her belly, lying her head on her big puppy paws, still staying quiet. "She's my companion." you begin, both red tipped ears scooping toward the mare, who's mane you have yet to learn. "Are you new to Helovia?" Your voice is warm and raspy as usual, nothing but curiosity filling the air. Likely we cough, also irritated that the mutt gets more attention than us. If she is from the outside worlds, it would explain her not having had seen a companion before; you hadn't either before you came here.. Even if it was a short two years that had been spent outside of the walls.

"Companions are.. Typical around here I guess. It's a weird thing to explain, and I actually don't know very much about it... I just know that as soon as I found her, I knew I was supposed to take care of her." the warmth that fills your chest as you speak of your bonded reaches her, making her tail pay the earth twice before she rolls onto her side happily, stretching out to rub her face against your ankle. "There's so much unexplainable magic here that I couldn't begin to touch on it to explain to you." And with the amount you've been talking, I really don't think she fucking cares.

Text here "Chat here." Voices here
Tagged: @[Sheba]
Ooc: I am SOOO sorry this took so long to reply to! I thought I had like, a week ago, and when I realized I hadn't the other day I just had no muse for him! D: Don't hate me! Lol,

Table by Frostie

"I'm Sheba," her tongue rolls on the roof of her mouth, the smooth, so very different from what you're used to voice catches your hit and miss attention, ears happy to sit forward on either side of your maroon blotted face. Sheba, Rawr! we laugh as we make a pawing motion in the air, a couple of us winking and giggling still, Very sexy we add, pressuring you forward. Ouija wiggles back onto her belly, staring up at the white vixen across from the two of you. The name keeps the grin on you ruby lips, a nod affirming that you caught her name. "And no, I'm not from around here."

She listens to your droning explaination, but instead of finding it boring, she finds some sort of entertainment in it all, calling it "fascinating." Your left ear shifts from the glinting pool infront of you to the forest, listening for anything that might cause another startle or just should be noticed. Nothing. Nervous tendancys always have you on edge, no matter whether the situation where within a crowd or all alone.. All alone is often worse than big crowds, as you let us get to you when you're all by yourself. You're never alone we whisper in your skull, raking our hot, jagged nails against the white-washed wall of bone.

Sheba's foreign tongue once more catches you, a word that you don't understand slipping off of velvet lips, but the word "name" is in there, so it must just be toward you, right? Uncomfortably, you shift your weight, causing Ouija to stir and wobbl out from below your feet so she would not be stepped on, not that you could step on her if you even wanted. "I'm Voodoo. This is Ouija." your bloodied snout dips in the direction of the fuzzy white cub who is now plopped back down into a ball. The white vixen speaks again, wanting you to partake in some kind of task for her. Deep brown eyes shift to the crimson dyed waters before swinging back to you.

Jagged black hooves carry you closer to the female, but you stop a comfortable distance away from her, far enough as to where if each of you reached out, you could bumb snouts together. Whatever it is that's further enticing you to get to know this mare in a much more personal way is beyond you, but we know it as teenage horormes. It's always the grays we scoff, piling images up of every one of the mares that you have found any sexual interest in: Africa, Zima, Brisa, Aurelia and now this one! "Anything." you mutter, half out of respect and half out of desire to aid this mare.

Text here "Chat here." Voices here
Tagged: @[Sheba]
Ooc: He's swoonin'! Lol. Poor boy.

Table by Frostie

"Delightful-" the fuzzy word flutters from her pink and gray kissers, batting the air with invisibly butterfly wings until it circles around your head playfully and lands on the top of your bloodied mug, evaporating into a make-believe cloud of sparkles. Your ears pitch forward, the vixen closing the space between the two of you. Uncomfortably, Ouija stands up once more and stalks off toward where she had chased away the hare, her quickly developing mind realizing that she does not like whatever is is that's going on in your gooey head. Sheba explains that the favor she has is for you to a) Retrieve the rocks and b) Find a way for her to carry them.. Carry them where? How many does she want anyway?

Submissively you nod your crowned skull, empty eyes looking back for the now gone Ouija. Without finding your fuzzy, adventurous companion, you look back up at the mare, allowing your neck to lift your skull up in order to look less childish. The white vixen's explanation sinks in for a moment before you can think of different ways to carry more than a couple of blood-red rock, but you only result in one that will be simple: "You want me to carry them?" Just like the stone you and Africa found we purr, bringing up youthful pictures of a lanky colt version of yourself and the dual-winged playful version of Africa. Your heart nearly sinks at the thought of her well being.

But here before you stands a beautiful mare, accompanied with soft, foreign tones and never-ending braids of hair... Who's soft lips are nearly touching your own rough ones. Nostrils rattle anxiously, empty eyes watching the mare eagerly. We whisper dirty things and aug you on to "be a man," but you somehow avoid even bumping snouts with the mare; instead you turn your eyes away and begin to wade knee-deep in the red-reflected waters. Once standing on top of many round rocks, your jagged right forehoof digs and scoops at the shiny ovals, tossing then toward the close shore.

Water splashes around as you carelessly scoop the apparently beloved rocks from their resting places, ears tilted backward as your underbelly and legs are drenched. This takes a minute or two before the rocks that you had chosen are in shallow enough water to grab. Briskly you walk from the water, dark legs dripping cold, cold water onto the forest floor. "Are these okay?" your voice shakes with your already shivering muscles; the wind may not cut through the forest, but the chill of Frostfall is still heavy and quite present. Dull eyes fall to the rocks, two sitting on the very edge of the pond, half sticking out of the fridged pool: one is nearly a perfect circle, but flat on one side, while the later is a tapering oval that would be a perfect skipping rock.

Text here "Chat here." Voices here
Tagged: @[Sheba]

Table by Frostie