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