Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
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.
Thoughts
Speech
@'Vincent' @Random Events
Well, there goes her ability to not fall for lies, lol.
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.
Thoughts
Speech
@'Vincent' @Random Events
Well, there goes her ability to not fall for lies, lol.
i feel no cold, i feel no fear inside my mind
Now I'm full of energy
![[Image: i-jTNwWx8.png]](https://photos.smugmug.com/BelowZeroNovus/n-X9d9fZ/i-jTNwWx8/1/e09fb6c3/O/i-jTNwWx8.png)
