Bellisma

The glare from the sun reflecting off the water blinded the eyes even more than the sun on the sand from her home. So the dancing little mare was caught completely off guard by the little tan creature. She seemed to be caught off guard quite a lot here in Helovia. Perhaps because you always knew when someone was coming while be chained in a cage, so she didn’t need to be that aware of her surroundings before her escape.

Though startled to stillness by the fox, it was not until she caught sight of the approaching large stallion that she began to panic. Motivated to move by fear, she glanced around in fright, looking for an escape. Any attempt back to shore could be cut off by the stud, so she turned and lept further into the seas, up to her chest, before realizing through her panic that this may not be the best escape plan. Yes, she could swim, but something in her survival mind told her that other dangers lurked in the deeper waters.

So instead of swimming out to sea, she turned to face the stallion, ears flickering with wariness and green eyes crinkled with mistrust. The waves gently rolled around her body, causing her tail to ebb and flow around her tiny, sculpted haunches.

The distance between herself and the stud allowed her mind to shake largely free from her crippling panic. The apology called across the water also greatly helped her release some of her fear. And considerably surprised her, had a stallion ever apologized to her? Not in her working memory. Though how much had she blocked out? She wasn’t sure.

”O-ouija?" her small lips sounds around the unfamiliar word once the terror released her vocal cords. The little fox was like the fennec foxes of her home... But larger. She shifts in the water, responding to the sting the salt had on her now openly bleed leg beneath the clear surface. ”It’s- it’s okay,” she speaks quietly, timid bells carried by the onshore breeze to the stallion.

Her emerald gaze, embolden by the distance and the water (which would surely slow down any aggressive action towards her, so that she could flee), bounced nervously to his face and body. Yes, the roaned stud was larger than she (who wasn’t?), but he was not the bulky build. Which meant he could run quickly, though needed more force to impart the destructive blows she was used to. She felt confident that she could escape this encounter with minimal injuries, provided the scar on her leg didn’t hinder her speed.

He training (or forceful conditioning) kicked in, and- almost reluctantly- she asked, ”How may I assist you, sir?” Though she no longer stumbled over words, her voice was sad and still quiet, almost like church bells tolling at a funeral. Though she embraced and loved her newfound freedom, she didn’t know how to interact with others. Everything before now had been scripted, or controlled by others. What to do without a part to play? How to use this freewill around another? A stallion, no less? She just wasn’t sure.

ooc| @[Voodoo] I typed this up last night, but never posted it? Too much green beer on St. Patty's I guess :P hehe

Bellisma

Ears perk forward to catch the voice of the fox, realizing that she was just a pup. A stallion with a young animal? “She’s just a kit?” the surprise pulled the words loudly out from her small lips, since when did males nurture anything? They were destructive, harmful machines. Weren’t they?

Again, Bellisma’s mouth had opened and spoken without consulting her mind. She truly needed to regain control of it. The lack of constant, oppressing fear had turned her tongue free, and she found it to be full of questions. Questions got you beat, hurt, or worse: unwanted attention. At least, questions used to.

Sharp, large jade eyes realize the stallion’s pauses and stutters as similar to her own. This was entirely new, a man unsure of himself… well let’s just say men were always sure of what they wanted around Bellisma. Perked ears vaguely caught the sound of a hard swallow- which reminded her of a lost memory… A young male who had brought her poultice for her leg when her master had first placed the chains on her. The adolescent had swallowed hard when she had smiled her thanks. That young man had showed her kindness. Though he had returned a few years later without kindness and with quite a sexual appetite.

But the golden pixie associated the uncertainty with kindness. ‘Are you alright?’ Again, the tall, lanky stud surprised her. She glanced around her and seeing the pink tinge in the water brought her attention to her leg’s sharp stinging. From experience, Bell could endure deep aching pains (like those of a broken rib or fractured shoulder) but it was the stinging pains that made her nose sting and bothered her greatly. She realized the healing of the sea had worn off and it was time to leave the water… but this unknown stallion was so near.

So, motivated to move by pain, her green eyes solidly connected with his deep maroon ones, almost as if to anchor him in place as she slowly moved out of the water. The movement sent more red swirling in eddies around her thin legs, but she paid it no mind. Her gaze- intense from nerves and unease- drilled into his, “I think I’m fine,” indeed she had had worse, “It’s just a cut from…” her voice trails off as her small black hooves reach the ebbing of the tide.

She had kept a comfortable distance, somewhat awkward for talking at two horse lengths, but it allowed some of the tension to leave her petite body and kept her from fleeing. Only once situated with her tail away from the stallion, did she break her gaze and look to her back leg. “…a cut from before. From a chain,” her voice, which had become stronger, again faded to quiet chimes. “I thought the-” she paused, unsure of the name for this vast water, “well, I thought this ‘water’ might help.” Her words imply that she has no name for the sea.

The harsh sun and warm breeze were already making quick work of drying her thin golden coat. It also had the added benefit of drying the rivulets of blood and forming an irregular scab over the freshly opened scar. Turning back to the dark stallion, she decided to stay, though uncertainty kept her shifting on her hooves. Incredulity crosses her pretty face as the little cub winds around his his large hooves. Though they were flaking, they certainly would impart damaging blows to the kit. “She’s yours?” Surprise once again yanks a question from her mouth, her voice loud and firm once again.

Finally, she realized her rudeness- and rudeness got you hit, “I am so sorry. I am Bellisma,” the bells tinkle once more.

ooc| @[Voodoo] Phew! This post grew a lot longer than I expected!

Bellisma

She returns her gaze to the stallion’s face, but her eyes are on his lips as he speaks. Though they were the color of old blood, the voice coming from them was a pleasant baritone, somewhat soothing her shifting. The wet sand beneath her tiny onyx ovals settles, no longer the muddy quicksand it is wont to become. He repeats parts of her words, as a question, and she realizes her mistake of candid honesty. Her darned tongue!

Ears, trained on the dark stud, flick nervously to Ouija as she reveals her pearly whites. Granted, the kit was small, and the motion should have been adorable, but Bellisma had known one other stallion to keep wolves. And when their teeth were shown it was not adorable, but a warning. She had seen the damage such teeth could impart- luckily not on herself.

But the little fox was endearing, and Bellisma was a mare (and therefore not immune the the cuteness); so a smile whispers onto her face as she looks at the tan pup. Per usual, Bell’s smile lit her lovely features, erasing the worry and sending fear to the backs of her eyes. If only she could hold onto a smile for more than a few, fleeting moments!

Alas, the smile vanishes as her attention shifts razor sharp to Voodoo’s extending, long leg. The cautious movement was slow and clearly nonthreatening, but still turned her small frame into a gold statue. Though, strangely, she did not flee. Her eyes were wide, but her voice came out quaking and loud, “It’s alright, Voodoo,” again she repeats her acceptance of his faltering apology.

A deep breath expands her thin ribcage, leaving her sculpted nostrils slowly as she eases some of the tension out of her frame. Her haunches are still taunt, but her neck- at least- is relaxed now. She then realizes that, in her fear, she had addressed the stallion by his given name without permission! Fear again darts across her face, “I-I apologize! I may call you Voodoo?” Panic sends the bells chiming at a higher soprano. “Or is it ‘Sir’, ‘Esquire’, ‘Master’…?” The high bells trail off in a question.

She had avoided his question, but now felt the need to answer it as she had potentially insulted him with her faux pas. Her eyes avert to the wet, wavy sand, and the bells tinkle quietly again, “There was a-a chain— my master, old master, kept me-” she broke off her halting explanation. Her gaze, pleading for freedom from explaining her story, flits around. It bounces on his sinewy body, skates across his face, and lands on Ouija- of all things.

She continues, bells twinkling to the little fox, “He wished to keep me from running,” a sad breath, “And it stayed when I ran into this Helovia,” the word still sounds foreign on her tongue- but in a good way. She liked the mouthful of four syllables. “So it cut my leg- I’m alright, though. There’s been worse-” she broke off again, recognizing her mistake of unexpected honesty. Oversharing might get her pity, and she had seen that in the eyes of a few beautiful mares visiting her master. She didn’t mind pity, truly. As long as it didn't anger master- which it often did.

She sighs softly, “It’s gone now. I’m just waiting for the scar to heal,” she states the obvious. She glances through her thick lashes up to his dark wine eyes. Apprehension is evident on her face, but also a sparkle of curiosity shines through the jade gaze. How would this stud respond to her story? His eyes calmed her momentarily, much like wine their color mimicked.

ooc| Oops! Sorry about that. Also, sorry this post took a while. And it’s a bit of a mess lol. @[Voodoo]

Bellisma

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Voodoo,” ingrained manners make the words sound flat, but the brightness in her face contradicted the sound. Perhaps it was relief at not angering the man that put her face at ease, but it was a step in the right direction.

Bellisma’s eyes follow Ouija unseeingly as the fox trots off towards the movement of birds in dunes. Instead the sight of understanding- of empathy- on Voodoo’s face plays in her mind’s eye. Tulips ears flicker at yet another apology, but this one was not for anything he had done. It was an acknowledgment of her unfortunate life.

But! Enough dwelling on the past! She was free now! The only remnants of her prison were the scars on her leg, mind, and open cut. The first two took time, and the last— the last was being closely inspected by the nose the same color as her new scab.

Returning to the present, Bell’s body- which had relaxed briefly- once again became tight. Though her muscles were not taunt to run; she was immobile in anticipation of the nearness of his tall, warm body. This nearness never ended well for the mare (though usually did for the stallion, barring performance anxieties). And when they were this close… well there was no point in running.

Holding her breath, her eyes were openly staring once again at Voodoo. As his own warm breath washed over her scarred leg, she let out a surprised puff of air. The humid air from his nose felt… it felt pleasant.

Her breathing increased, in response to such a foreign, gentle touch. Her heart, which had been pounding against the lack of oxygen, leapt into a staccato. Anxiety pulled breathy words from her lips, “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Voodoo.”

A ripple turns her coat to liquid gold as the velveteen muzzle touches her skin for a brief moment, “And I’m sure it’s nearly healed-” the anxious, airy words were cut short at the dark stallion’s sudden movement. She starts, but stays in place, looking up at his dark face as she is rather dwarfed by his proximity.

Her golden flank has become speckled with dark copper as apprehension brings sweat to her hide. Or was it from the odd sensation that spread from her leg once Voodoo has brushed his nose against her? Indeed, her leg still tingled, but the sting from the salty cut was gone.

Delicate ears, already trained on him, barely pick up his whisper. She glances nervously at her leg, then whips her head to stare at him once she sees the healed scar. “Did you- did you mean to do that? You have magic?” finally the pretty bells chime loudly, amazement and wonder evident in her tone and face.

“I mean- I don’t mean to be ungrateful-” these words come out in a rush “What I mean to say is, thank you,” the chimes hush somewhat, but the gratitude makes them throaty, “That’s the kindest thing a stallion has done to me.” The clarity in her eyes makes this admission believable, and her face is once again glimmering with beauty now that the shadow of fear and anxiety has left it.

She smiles again, lighting her face. Alas, it falters instantly as the smell of more blood spirals into her nose. She had noticed the bright red against the merlot of his muzzle, but this came from elsewhere. Nostrils flare as her gaze rolls over his tall body, “Are you bleeding, now?” Her inspection had missed the cut in his inky, long legs.

Concern- concern over a stallion, no less- etches into her face. The absurdity of this entire situation then hits her, and a quiet giggle builds in her thin barrel and escapes her tiny muzzle. And the sliver of her blood on the stallions nose adds to her hilarity- perhaps it is an after effect of his healing magic. Whatever the case, Bell’s laugh tintinnabulated infectiously over the crashing surf. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed with a stallion near. Regardless, the rare sound was lovely.

“Also, you’ve some of my-” the words break through the laugh, “You’ve some blood. On your nose.” She manages to contain the laugh to quiet giggles as she gazes gratefully at Voodoo.

ooc| Yes, I thesaurused the word tintinnabulate and I LOVE it. Hehe ;) I got tired of ‘chime’, ‘tinkle’ and ‘bell.’
And this got so much longer than expected! The way you write Voodoo just makes me want to keep typing, haha :)
@[Voodoo]