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]