04-24-2018, 05:27 PM
★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
Teeth worrying at her lip, the girl tracked Arion as far as she could manage ocularly. Deus, he was going to get her in so much trouble. Which, in all fairness, was to be expected of the colt. He had been weaving around tree trunks and navigating unfamiliar forest floors covered in foliage and fauna for a few days now. Him wanting to stretch his legs was more than a given. Hazel was only unsure of the consequences he would face, and if she could stand up to them.
What she wasn’t expecting (not...so soon, at least) was the shriek that rivaled her own in pitch. Fur standing on end, Hazel logically knew that she should probably be searching for some sort of shelter to protect her from whatever made the noise. Immediately was more preferable than later, because that scream was loud, which meant its owner was way too close for comfort.
Far too familiar with the feeling of fear pulsing in her veins from the threat of imminent injury, Hazel froze, rooted to the spot because it was what she had taught herself to do for the six months she had been socially conscious. If she stayed put, Mother was less likely to get angrier, which resulted in lack of bloodshed. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it kind of beat the alternative.
Mind blanking in a horribly habitual way, Hazel was completely unprepared to hear a bewildered voice call out, followed by the appearance of a stranger. Heart hammering against her ribcage, Hazel easily reigned in her terror, slapping a mask of politeness over it like she had done so many times before.
With Arion appearing in and out of her peripheral, Hazel tried to focus on the stranger - or, Hotelsuites, as she learned. Ears falling sheepishly, she ducked her head when Arion was mentioned. They had been here all of two seconds, and he had already nearly run someone over.
“I’m Hazel. I’m...um, looking for a place to stay, I think.” She answered, praying that her voice didn’t crack. She hoped someone didn’t ask again; her name made her uncomfortable. Felt wrong on the back of her tongue - felt like it should belong to someone else. “And yeah, I...I did, uh - I’m sorry if he’s causing trouble. I’ll clean up whatever he breaks, promise.” Hazel’s guilt tucked itself deeper into her chest as she turned her golden gaze to the ground, studying the blades of grass under her paw pads.
Another apology was ready on the tip of her tongue when another unfamiliar figure appeared, and stars, did they just teleport? Or were Hazel’s senses really so bad as to not being able to notice a living being crossing an open field?
The cheery demeanor of the newcomer was a bit startling, and easily noticed as overdone. Hazel didn’t comment on it, though. She knew how she looked, and how Arion was being a total idiot, but. “I - thank you. Pleased to meet you, Miss Margaret,” She said, voice a little lighter like the child she should be. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth, genuinely grateful for the friendliness. As for the formality, Hazel couldn’t say. Margaret seemed like someone who deserved respect, and Hazel had been taught to give respect first before cutting formalities.
It was then that a boy decided to show up, and Hazel could feel his sour mood pull her lips into a frown. He radiated don’t look, don’t talk, don’t touch vibes, and Hazel found herself equal parts annoyed and frightened. His tone was the same flat, unimpressed, on-the-verge-of-an-emotional-breakdown that Mother would gain after a long day, and the familiarity of it made Hazel want to shrink inside her own skin. Still, he was talking about something she had background knowledge of: mythology. Or history. Either one. Whichever it was, it sparked a light of confidence in her.
She gave him her full attention, with luminescent 14-karat gold hued eyes meeting icy blue. “Last I checked,” Stars, she was going to get in so much trouble for back-talking. “it wasn’t the horse that attacked the city, but the soldiers inside.” Holy shit. Holy shit, Mother would have locked her in her room for a week for that. Hazel wasn’t really sure why she was sassing the scariest stranger when he looked like he wanted to murder the world, but...impulse control was a finicky thing.
The interaction made her itch, and she resisted rubbing over the tingling scars covered by the golden bandana on her forearm. Instead, her gaze found the ground again, though her ears were still tilted back in annoyance. She blinked at his next question, refusing to look at him again, and curled her slightly puffed tail around her opposite side.
“Already said that I was looking for a place to stay.” Hazel mumbled, risking the quickest of glances at Margaret and Hotelsuites. “Because he’s been trapped in a forest for a couple days. He wants to run. I’m a little small to stop him.” And it was then that a very real fear hit her - the fear that they would lock Arion away; pin him down and kill him for hurting someone he didn’t mean to. Snapping her eyes back to Bastille’s, her guard lowered for a fraction of a second, her next words spoken in earnest and sincerity. “He doesn’t mean any harm - he just wants to run. He’s okay most of the time, I promise.”
What she wasn’t expecting (not...so soon, at least) was the shriek that rivaled her own in pitch. Fur standing on end, Hazel logically knew that she should probably be searching for some sort of shelter to protect her from whatever made the noise. Immediately was more preferable than later, because that scream was loud, which meant its owner was way too close for comfort.
Far too familiar with the feeling of fear pulsing in her veins from the threat of imminent injury, Hazel froze, rooted to the spot because it was what she had taught herself to do for the six months she had been socially conscious. If she stayed put, Mother was less likely to get angrier, which resulted in lack of bloodshed. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it kind of beat the alternative.
Mind blanking in a horribly habitual way, Hazel was completely unprepared to hear a bewildered voice call out, followed by the appearance of a stranger. Heart hammering against her ribcage, Hazel easily reigned in her terror, slapping a mask of politeness over it like she had done so many times before.
With Arion appearing in and out of her peripheral, Hazel tried to focus on the stranger - or, Hotelsuites, as she learned. Ears falling sheepishly, she ducked her head when Arion was mentioned. They had been here all of two seconds, and he had already nearly run someone over.
“I’m Hazel. I’m...um, looking for a place to stay, I think.” She answered, praying that her voice didn’t crack. She hoped someone didn’t ask again; her name made her uncomfortable. Felt wrong on the back of her tongue - felt like it should belong to someone else. “And yeah, I...I did, uh - I’m sorry if he’s causing trouble. I’ll clean up whatever he breaks, promise.” Hazel’s guilt tucked itself deeper into her chest as she turned her golden gaze to the ground, studying the blades of grass under her paw pads.
Another apology was ready on the tip of her tongue when another unfamiliar figure appeared, and stars, did they just teleport? Or were Hazel’s senses really so bad as to not being able to notice a living being crossing an open field?
The cheery demeanor of the newcomer was a bit startling, and easily noticed as overdone. Hazel didn’t comment on it, though. She knew how she looked, and how Arion was being a total idiot, but. “I - thank you. Pleased to meet you, Miss Margaret,” She said, voice a little lighter like the child she should be. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth, genuinely grateful for the friendliness. As for the formality, Hazel couldn’t say. Margaret seemed like someone who deserved respect, and Hazel had been taught to give respect first before cutting formalities.
It was then that a boy decided to show up, and Hazel could feel his sour mood pull her lips into a frown. He radiated don’t look, don’t talk, don’t touch vibes, and Hazel found herself equal parts annoyed and frightened. His tone was the same flat, unimpressed, on-the-verge-of-an-emotional-breakdown that Mother would gain after a long day, and the familiarity of it made Hazel want to shrink inside her own skin. Still, he was talking about something she had background knowledge of: mythology. Or history. Either one. Whichever it was, it sparked a light of confidence in her.
She gave him her full attention, with luminescent 14-karat gold hued eyes meeting icy blue. “Last I checked,” Stars, she was going to get in so much trouble for back-talking. “it wasn’t the horse that attacked the city, but the soldiers inside.” Holy shit. Holy shit, Mother would have locked her in her room for a week for that. Hazel wasn’t really sure why she was sassing the scariest stranger when he looked like he wanted to murder the world, but...impulse control was a finicky thing.
The interaction made her itch, and she resisted rubbing over the tingling scars covered by the golden bandana on her forearm. Instead, her gaze found the ground again, though her ears were still tilted back in annoyance. She blinked at his next question, refusing to look at him again, and curled her slightly puffed tail around her opposite side.
“Already said that I was looking for a place to stay.” Hazel mumbled, risking the quickest of glances at Margaret and Hotelsuites. “Because he’s been trapped in a forest for a couple days. He wants to run. I’m a little small to stop him.” And it was then that a very real fear hit her - the fear that they would lock Arion away; pin him down and kill him for hurting someone he didn’t mean to. Snapping her eyes back to Bastille’s, her guard lowered for a fraction of a second, her next words spoken in earnest and sincerity. “He doesn’t mean any harm - he just wants to run. He’s okay most of the time, I promise.”
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better