Was it foolishness that had her returning to the island, or was it a bid for something bad to truly happen? Could it be her take on tempting fate (or perhaps tempting Tempus, as it's said it is his island she keeps frolicking to). As it was, Below Zero seemed incapable of truly staying away. Call her a glutton for the adventure, or perhaps just too determined for her own safety and luck to hold out. But once again her hooves quietly clomped against the lava rock, before it slowly turned to sand as she hit the beach. Her steps were light, more graceful in the familiar ground for beneath her hooves. On the beach, the water lapping at the sand at her side she felt more peaceful and in her element. A lady of the sea who lived on land sounded like a start to a fairy tale, but it was the life the Treader tended to live. Bel's dual set of eyes took in the land, her fore eyes doing a slow sweep up the beach side, even as her second set seemed to scout out trouble.

She glanced down at the trudged up sand that spoke of others traveling the area lately, and a few even seemed to be pacing the beach. It seemed silly to her, all of these individuals who wanted to find the secrets, but dare not step into the forest. That was where the secrets remained. She immediately picked up her place, her form moving with a grace that came partially from the setting she was in, and partially from the way her body only showed the faintest of movement of muscles, she tended to be made up of gentle curves and smoothness than notable muscular design; thanks to the thick blubber protecting her body from the chills of her original arctic home. She slipped easily into the forest with a familiarity of someone who'd transverses it frequently in the recent weeks of the island's arrival. She didn't make it far in before the unfamiliar sounds of shuffling hit her ears.

Instantly the mare was on guard, her finned spine tensing as the vapors trailing from her body cooled in an attempt to bring her comfort. Was it a slinking cat looking for its' next meal? Perhaps a giant bird with a taste for aquatic-equine flesh? Or a shark that learned to walk on land! All options felt like a horrible possibility! She inched forward though, peering through the brush, pushing through the foliage and instantly freezing. Of the possibilities she had imagined, a zombie hadn't been one of them! She stared in shocked horror as she stared down the creature, uncertain how to react or what to do. She blinked slowly, first the fore set of eyes, than the second set of eyes, taking in his appearance of exposed muscular tendons, seemingly missing and rotting fleshed, disfigurement. Her voice came out almost squeakily, "Uhm, are . . . are you alright?" Well, it sounded better than 'how are you alive.'

She took a deep gulp of air, breathing in deeply before trying to put on a friendly face and not advertise her concern for the individual in front of her. Was he getting help? Dear goodness, was there any help for him? He looked like something left of a shark attack! "Oh, uhm, my name is Below Zero, or Bel; really. What are - I mean, er; who are you? But, uh, really, are you okay. I don't mean, er, I don't wanna be rude, or anything . . . Uhm, it's just . . . you uh . . . are you a zombie?!" Her eyes widened as she rapidly shook her head, backing up a half step in shock at the words that had left her, "Er, I mean . . . I'm sorry that was so rude! I meant . . . er . . . oh, starfish! I'm sorry I'm blubbering like a guppy . . . I just haven't quite met someone with your . . . er . . . appearance?" shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. "Not that you look, er; totally horrible or anything . . . I mean I've seen shark attacks that look a little worse . . . not that you look like a shark attack victim that much . . . ." shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, "Really, I mean . . . er, well you do have some . . . missing fleshy bits and such, and . . . you're not in pain are you . . . ?" Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, "You are alive right. Oh, of course you are, you are walking about and everything, and even a zombie is kinda alive . . . you aren't a zombie though right? Or maybe you are? Do land-horses become zombies? Are there even such a thing of Zombies? I don't think the ocean has anything similar. Though we do have some odd creatures of our own like dragonfish or anglerfish that seem to glow up their own skeletons. Some fish are even fully see-through to their skeleton . . . uhm, though you're not quite like that . . . and I . . . should really just learn to stop talking." Where was a good coral reef to bury herself in?

She kept her muzzle firmly shut at this point, half expecting some kind of very violent outburst from the older stallion - something she was certain she deserved . . . oh why couldn't she control her mouth when she felt out of her element. Why couldn't she be the type who went quiet when they felt awkward and uncertain, why did her filter have to fail her, and her words never stop. Oh goodness, what if the zombie decided to eat her now? Wait, is he a zombie though, "So are you a zombie then." OH SHUT UP. Her mouth closed quick again, wincing as she firmly kept it closed. Way to make a first impression, it was as bad, if not worse than meeting Asterion.


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@'Vincent' @Random Events
Please forgive her tendency to get super, super talkative when embarrassed/unnerved/awkward/etc. She'll smooth out . . . maybe . . . at some point.

There was something off about this stallion, something about the way he stood there staring her down. Something about the way he watched, the way he seemed so keen . . . she felt like a small fry in front of a large predator . . . yes, that was it, it was the feeling of being stared at by a shark as if it was trying to decide if it was hungry enough to have to go into chase. She prayed she was wrong, that this . . . odd . . . large-fanged . . . rugged . . . . heavily decomposed . . . . thing wasn't a predator after a pound of flesh. He could definitely fit the part. Oh, for the breath of Poseidon, what if he was a zombie and she was the next creature he'd devour the brain of! She wouldn't taste very good, surely too salty! Maybe she should mention that to fend him off.

Still he seemed intrigued to a level, though Bel was far to lost in the worries that she had predator on her fin to think he might be after anything else. Perhaps it was her innocence, her naivety, or her lack of knowledge of other land-based horses and their beliefs, behaviors, and actions; but she feared she was facing down a shark . . . she just was assuming it was the wrong kind of shark. His voice came out as a coo as he seemed to take a step towards her, steps slow, gentle, as if being cautious of alarming her. Her eyes still watching him clearly, or at least the foremost set, the smaller set was still keeping a scan on the world surrounding them, aware of the dangers this forest offered in, of itself. At the moment she still considered it to be the greater danger.

He then spoke reassuringly, informing he was most certainly not a zombie, just a poor fool who'd been mistreated. Perhaps it was those words that had the mare narrowing her eyes ever so faintly. Sure he looked to be roughed up, but it was rarely the world who mistreated the individual without cause. Things typically had a cause and effect. Let a shark get too close to you, you lose a fin. Let an orca with in chewing distance, you lost a limb, let the herd decide your sister was a health hazard, be forced to leave her behind. Everything had a cause, and any cause that led to his appearance likely wasn't from a 'sad mistreatment' from the world. She hesitated for a moment, asking in a quick rush of breath, "Wait, what happened to be so . . . mistreated." Perhaps the story would lead her to an explanation of his appearance.

He continued to reassure however, as she carefully continued to bite her tongue, even as more questions seemed to cycle through her head. Wouldn't harm a mouse, let alone eat the flesh of a beautiful creature like she. Her frown deepened slightly as she tilted her head to the side, noting his previous use of the term precious either. She wasn't the sort to have had fanciful words directed her way, not since her own time with her species. A few had flirted in hopes of a bond to be form, but Bel's heart belonged to the sea, and to the adventures and discoveries exploring could lend to - and the stories she'd share over what her finds had been.

She wasn't sure what his angle might be, why he seemed to feel that delicate words would be needed to draw her in. His words continued, calling her sweet Bel this time, speaking of not being long for the world and asking permission to use her common nickname. She nodded once, the motion halting and hesitant even as she kept her fore-eyes locked on him. Another step had been made at some point, leaving him closer again than before, when had he moved? His eyes bore into her, as he seemed to finally give a clue to what he wanted, speaking of a relic that would likely be the only item to save him.

She was still silent, her gaze sweeping over him, judging his words as much as his actions, and her own uncertainty in the situation she found herself in. She didn't know this stallion, she didn't know his story, only what he deemed to share. He wanted his health returned, thinking this relic would do it. He wanted her help, that was certain. But why her, why should she help. She wasn't even after the relic, she was after the real secret of the island, out to discover the reason, the cause of the heaviness and discomfort it gave to her and others' she'd spoken to.

Bel shifted, one limb to the other as she eyed the male, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it with out turning it into another rambling of chaotic, de-railed trains of thoughts. The hoard of words weren't to be saved and tucked back, however, and before long they were falling from her muzzle in serenade fitting the sea, "Why do you think the relic would help? What is so special about this relic. I'm afraid I know nothing about it, my time on the island has been spent on another matter. There are darker secrets buried in the sands of this place, and I'm after what those might be. The relic seems to be more of a distraction than anything else, drawing the attention away from the real dangers of this island. You're more likely to succumb to the beasts, the predators of this land, than to find the fabled artifact." Her words were less of rambling embarrassment, but still rambling none-the-less.

She suddenly remembered his earlier words before, and this time her eyes finally did relax a touch, her breath escaping her in a soft, fluttering sigh, "Oh bless the luck starfish, thank goodness! I was so worried you were a zombie! I was trying to figure out how to convince you I'd be to salty to eat anyway. Or at least I would assume I would be, being a creature of the oceans and saltwater. It's the only thing I could think of, anyway to convince a zombie not to eat me!" She gushed in obvious relief, shaking her head lightly, before frowning, "And you can of course call me Bel, everyone does. But you don't need to call me precious or sweet or anything. That's just odd." She added, before tilting her head and glancing at him again, "And I'd still recommend not chasing the artifact of this island. Perhaps you should talk to a healer? I know of one in Dawn Court! His name is Lasair, and he's really, really smart about healing and stuff. He might be able to help you?" She offered as another choice, her eyes earnest and sincere. It would help him, and keep him safer from the darkness this island hid. A darkness not even her nightly glow could shed light on.



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@'Vincent' @Random Events
She can't quite decide what to make of him. Her rambling is a bit better, but still there. So she's relaxing a touch. :)

One might describe Bel as a bit oblivious, but not really easy to distract or trick . . . this odd not-a-zombie-but-looks-like-one horse was proving half of that to be false. While true, Bel could usually tell when one was fogging her vision with ink, she was starting to fall for his suggestions, hook, line and sinker. And true to an aquatic creature, with that bait dangling infront of her, she was bound to get caught on the hook. Even now she wasn't aware of the attention she held from the male as light pierced the leaved canopy above, dappling her pelt. Though, even if she was aware of his attentions, she'd be more confused by the reason of those attentions - she was after all only roughly eighty five percent convinced he wasn't a zombie after a next meal.

She was still cautious enough to not fall for the bait after the first cast, instead swimming around it as if trying to deem its' sincerity by observing the angles of the story he hold. So she'd started with a single question, a single moment of curiosity to wonder how he'd been so mistreated by the word. When he spoke of it being his own fault, however, it was not the story that young Bel would have been expecting. Usually those comments preluded stories about how the individual was never at fault, how every other horse had conspired against them. Immediately taking the blame gave the bait he was casting a little more life. His words hurt her heart, broke it for him, as she listening to him speak, defending his decision about taking a youth into a canyon, the terror of a pack descending. How he shouldn't have been the one to survive and how he had to deserve this. She was silent, and a flicker of pain - her own - crossed her features. Had her sister died like that, no pod to defend her, as the wolves that would occasionally hunt along the shore-lines took up the free meal. Crying, screaming, calling for assistance that was too far out of reach.

At the male's shake, the shutter that shook his body, the Aquatic mare looked up, tilting her head when he spoke a name. She hesitated slightly before reaching out, her muzzle lightly touching his shoulder, gently . . . placating him for a story he was merely an expert at weaving, "It's not your fault . . . you couldn't have known what would have happened." She said softly. Dimly she made a slight mental note of the short distance between trying to relieve the blame from horrific pasts two different stallions had carried. Just a few weeks prior hadn't she tried to do the same for the large pegasi with hooves of flame? Of course she couldn't know that where Sol's story was fact, this one was fiction. "And I imagine you had tried everything you could to get both she and yourself to safety . . . tragedy strikes when you least expect it, but that doesn't mean you should take the brunt of the blame." She tried to reassure, before pulling the dainty muzzle from his hide.

She took a step back then, glancing around them for a moment as she allowed him to regain his wits as she saw him trying to shake off the sadness and the tragedy. She shifted her limbs softly, her body side stepping to ease where the sun had been pressing into her skin and heating the blubber beneath that gave her body the softness it held. The pinpoints of heat had been growing uncomfortable, and in response the water vapors travelling off her body seemed to lower in temperature, the misty water soothing her back just as easily as shifting where those sun-streams hit her pelt.

Only when he seemed to draw his attention back to her did she glance at him, only for his gaze to press into hers, a touch uncomfortable for the mare who had sorrows of her own. He seemed to be begging for help . . . how was she supposed to deny that? The cast bait gave another wiggle. He spoke again, admitting to know little about the relic other than a god had gifted it to the island. And how waiting on the edges of death had you grasping at seaweed to survive. He spoke of a desperation to find it and not let his body fail from the open wounds. She glanced at the wounds, and she tried another aspect of the issue. He seemed interested at the idea though, before he seemed to be overcome by a rough cough, blood staining the ground, and she immediately moved forward to offer any assistance.

He spoke the final words and the bait was too lifelike and convincing to ignore. This time, Bel took it and was caught on the line, just as he had attended when he'd first spoken it, "Oh dear, are you alright! Don't strain yourself too much! Of course I'll help. You said you could feel it? What direction? Perhaps we can start looking in that direction?" She offered, her dual sets of eyes both wide for concern for the male, "Can you walk, or do you need my assistance?" She added after another moment of concern for the male.


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@'Vincent' @Random Events
Well, there goes her ability to not fall for lies, lol.