|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Feb 11, 2011 3:49 pm
Silver hooves gave off muffled clicks against the dark earth beneath them, tri-colored mane fluttering in the short breeze that darted around here and there. A few days had passed that the mare had spent in those dead woods, doing what she could to help the injured stallion. She wasn't used to playing healer, though she wasn't opposed to helping out. Simply had a rather limited knowledge as to what to do at times.
For now though, she was happy to leave the muck and grime behind. Already she could see greenery beginning to come back, each step bringing more life into view bit by bit. "Doubt that place was much help to your condition," she commented lightly to her companion. Beatrice kept her tone friendly, pausing to pick her way around a pricker bush, though still noting the small buds nestled amongst the thorns. Even the ugly had some beauty hidden within it around here.
"Everything smelt and looked like it died in there, not the most optimistic section of the forest." Not to mention disgusting, dirty, and she was pretty sure a lot had died in there. Her coat still bore small stains of the gunk, though she'd managed to wash some of it off in a strangled brook not terribly far from where she'd first discovered Chandar. It served well enough for a drink and a small bath, though she looked forward to reaching a larger, cleaner body of water at some point. Sunlight at least was breaking through the shade, lifting the gray tint on the woods bit by bit. Bird chirps in the distance further brightened her mood, turning her head to smile at the male. "How're you holding up though? If you need to stop, say so whenever."
She didn't want to turn into some sort of slave driver, after all. If he needed a break, they could stop and rest. Trigger grumbled a complaint, but it was soft enough Beatrice could ignore it without much difficulty. Truthfully, her other half had been uncharacteristically quite as of late, not even bothering to voice her opinions on.... well, anything. This was unusual, though Beatrice wasn't about to turn up her nose to such a fine, peaceful gift.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 26, 2011 9:19 am
Chandar walked - rather limped - not far after the pale and petite female. He kept his head down and occasionally grunted or grit his teeth when his body decided to object certain movements. While he would have died had not Beatrice or the unicorn and angeni come to save him, part of him wished they never would have bothered to help. He would have done the world a service with his demise, and certainly the pink maned female wouldn't feel a sense of obligation to stay.
Still.
Deep down, Chandar couldn't help but be grateful for everything Beatrice HAD done. It was a foreign feeling, and one he kept locked away, but it was something he had considered and tried to understand. No one had ever stayed with him, or even bothered to see if he were alright. So to have a mare - and one that had seemingly hated him - suddenly stick around and help care for him was unusual. Why was she even still here?
He wasn't as close to death and likely would have a slow recovery, but he would recover. Oh well. As soon as they made it to a nicer pasture, he was sure she would leave. They always did, anyway. If his own parents couldn't bother keeping him, than why did he think some stranger would want to? It wasn't like he was good company, after all.
Chandar grunted at her words, though it wasn't out of annoyance or irritation. "Those are places I see the most of," he admitted with a small shrug, wincing at the pain and objection of such a movement. Everything still hurt, but at least he could walk and most of his wounds were patched enough so motion didn't reopen them. The stallion wasn't the most social of creatures, and often kept to areas that harbored little life.
"I'm fine." He added with a little nod, words short but not mean. He wasn't exactly the best conversationalist, and he was stubborn. Even if he wasn't fine he'd likely continue press on until he stumbled or collapsed. He was tough, damnit, and he'd make sure he'd rest only when Beatrice tired. He was weak enough in front of her without naturally piping up and whining about being tired or weak or thirsty.
No, he'd carry on until he couldn't.
Still, the blue eyed stallion was also trying to figure out how to actually be pleasant, or nice, or give thanks. If Beatrice had ignored him or not found him, he would have died. Painfully. Slowly. But he'd never thanked someone before, and he did want to at least let her know his appreciation. There was no shame in that, it was the least he could do, after all. But how? And would she laugh or think him weak?
. . . she already thought that, anyway. Finding him beaten to a pulp by a stupid skinwalker, yeah . . there was no way to recover ones pride after that. "I'll just take your cues of rest and drink."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
