Tangled (Lady Sophiel x Lord Tuscan)

Tuscan

“Thomas!” The voice of the little Lord echoed through the trees, but it went unanswered. “Thomas, I’m going to kick you so hard when I get home!” Tuscan wailed as if the threat would make his voice carry further, his tone high with a mixture of anger and fear. He hadn’t seen his friend since the other Lord had told him about this stupid briar patch that was apparently filled with treasure, and how he should go look for it, so there was no reason for Thomas to be in the area. But the older fawn was the only one on Tuscan’s mind as he struggled to escape the clutches of the thorns, which had a firm hold on the long hair that hung from his tail. He had tried to reach around and bite the branches off, careful of the thorns as Lady Diana had showed him to be with roses, but this was no little rose. This was a huge sprawling patch of thorns and when he leaned in to try and free his tail his long mane got stuck too. He had managed to rip out of that one, leaving long strands behind him, but hadn’t dared stick his head too close since.

He wasn’t too far from the New Oak where the royals of Glenmore spent much of their time, but he was certainly out of earshot, and there didn’t seem to be many Fawnlings coming around these parts. Letting out an incoherent grunt of frustration, the little stag gave one last tug. It did nothing but make pain shoot up his body so forceful that he let out a pitiful yelp and fell flat on his belly with his tail still just as tangled in the briar patch. He didn’t get up, but stayed on his belly with his legs sprawled out and tears of hopeless frustration streaming down his cheeks as he cried.

Sophiel

Sophiel hummed a little tune as she made her way up a trail that would eventually lead her to the New Oak. It was a beautiful autumn day, cool and a bit crisp. Winter was right around the corner and the purple Lady couldn't be any more relieved. Summer was just...a nightmare for her, due to her abundance of thick fur and hair. She was more than happy that everything was cooling off. When everyone else was complaining about the cold, Sophie would be dancing through the snow!

So caught up in her daydreaming about winter, the odd little Lady didn't hear the cries...not at first. Then, they finally reached her ears, causing the ridiculously long appendages to prick with curiosity. Her blue and purple eyes widened as she recognized the sound of a fawn crying for help. The voice didn't seem to belong to an itty bitty baby, but it was definitely a youngster's! Sophie sprang forwards into a rapid canter, nearly falling over herself for the upteenth time that day.

What she found was a colt, probably about two or three years of age, stuck in a briar patch. She recognized him right away. Though she couldn't remember his name, she knew that he was a Royal. It didn't matter if he was Royal or commoner though, she would always help a fawn in need! ”Aawww, you poor dear!” she exclaimed sympathetically as she came to a halt before the colt's briar patch prison.

Tuscan:

Tuscan was laying there, convinced he was done for though at the same time convinced he would see Thomas again at some point because he was already rehearsing in his mind his angry retelling of this tale (which he’d have to spice up… maybe it was a fox that grabbed his tail instead of the briars), when he heard hoofbeats. His head shot up, his ears perking, and he gasped. “H-hello!” he wailed out. A figure appeared through the shadows. He recognized that it was a doe immediately and his heart sank, How’s a DOE going to help me? he groaned inwardly, but at the same time he was already hoping she was good enough at magic to get the briars to go away, or maybe she had a better vantage point from which to break the branches and set him free; whatever method she might try, in all honesty he was happy to see her.

Until she got closer. The large ears he could see right away… they were massive. Though his commoner ‘friend’ Valegro had large ears too so Tuscan wasn’t totally startled at that sight. Next he noticed how scruffy she was, not slender and lithe like other does, her hair was long and stuck out in every direction. And look at the size of those hooves! And that was when he noticed her markings, perhaps scariest of all. They weren’t just clean, crisp white beneath her pale blue-gray coat, they were splotchy! When he stared up at her face, which was sliced with a jagged and nonsensical splotch of white, he noticed the final oddity about this female that seemed to just be icing on the cake of insanity; her buck teeth.

Perhaps any single of the traits the female had wouldn’t have disarmed him so much (except maybe the weird piebald), but the quantity of them was utterly overwhelming to the dark little Lord, who was upset to begin with, so he scrambled back when she stopped before him, as if afraid for her to get too close, the bush behind him quivering as he pressed his back against the thorns. His eyes were narrowed and hostile, “W-what do you want?” he hissed breathlessly, forgetting that he was the one who called for help.

Sophiel:

The colt’s dismay didn't go unnoticed. It started out as frustration and then just went downhill from there. Sophiel felt as if someone had driven their tine straight into her heart as the fawn scrambled backwards, eyeballing with disgust. She supposed she really was disgusting, so she didn't blame him… but it still hurt. She tried to push away her sadness. He was hurt and he certainly needed her help. Fortunately, she recognized him, having tried her best to memorize names. She couldn't remember who his parents were, but she could recall his name at least. Tuscan, she believed.

Tuscan snapped at her, asking her what she wanted. “I heard your calls, so I thought that I would offer my assistance. Tuscan, isn't it? It looks like you've gotten yourself into a real mess here. My name is Lady Sophiel, but you may call me Sophie if you like.” She highly doubted that the colt would call her by name rather than by the ugly words going through his head. She'd be shocked if he called her by the nickname that she preferred. “I would be happy to help you. I believe I can use my magic to make the thorns sink into the ground, so that you can walk out.” She almost summoned her magic and set to work without giving him an option, but… for some reason she stopped.

It was stupid and far-fetched, but she couldn't help but be hopeful that… maybe he'd actually want her help, rather than her having to force him to take it?

Tuscan:

The doe spoke, but many of the words Tuscan didn’t catch because he was staring into her big, lovely eyes. Their beauty was overshadowed for Tuscan by the fact that they were two different colors. They weren’t hugely different. Once was blue while the other was purple, but it just made her all the more creepy.

His attention was snapped to her words when she heard his name, “How do you know my name?” he demanded. Lady Sophiel… She was a Lady. This was just too much. Lady Melora with her manly stag coat wasn’t fit to be traipsing around the royal glades as if she was someone special. And now this piebald thought she could be a proper lady too? That said, Tuscan was often reluctant to be rude those older than him, who knows who is in their circle, after all (and even if he could already tell she was gentle, Lady Sophiel could still smack his face right into the ground with her greater size… and weirdly big hooves; he couldn’t see there were multiple toes beneath the long feathering). It was hard but he tried to restrain himself…. somewhat. Besides… he had seen stranger piebalds, he reflected as one certain little colt in a snowstorm came to mind. At least she had a pretty color… and her white markings were… almost where white markings usually were, aside from being all crazy and splotched down her legs and on her face. Her face… ugh.

She was offering to help him, she claimed to have the magic to do it. But Tuscan didn’t like the offer, “I don’t need your help,” he insisted, not referring to her by any name at all. “I’ve dealt with thorns a thousand times. Watch.” Tuscan lifted his nose and turned back toward his tangled tail, seeing the mess of thorns around it. He realized that there was a reason it hadn't been as simple as biting his way out. There were… a lot of branches involved. But he had to try… or else be helped by ‘Lady’ Sophiel. He stretched around in place, carefully sticking his face into the thorns by his tail. He remembered the lessons taught to him by Lady Diana; she had taught him how to remove thorns from roses before eating them. But these branches were much bigger than a rose’s. He didn’t have time to remove them all. Plus these thorns were much thicker. So he figured he would just try to bite through the branch in between the thorns. He picked one branch, quivering with tension as it pulled after his tail, that had a section without thorns. He chewed at it, but when it broke a whole sprig of thorny branches whipped right across Tuscan’s cheek. “Yaaooww!!” the colt wailed as he recoiled back, yanking at his tail which threw him off balance which caused him to fall pathetically onto the ground. The little one was holding back whimpering tears of pain (even if the pain was minimal) and anger as he sniffled and snuffled, glaring at the thorn bush as if its assault was malicious.

Sophiel:

Unfortunately, he still didn’t seem to want her help. Actually, the hateful little thing snapped at her that he didn’t need it. Sophiel’s ears lowered a bit, drooping slightly as she felt another little twinge of emotional pain. He was only a fawn, but it still hurt! “I know your name because I’ve been trained to try and remember names and faces the best that I can. I remembered seeing you when you were just a newborn, and I stored your name away when it was given to me.” She responded calmly, not a drop of anger in her own voice. She wasn’t angry… She just wished that he would allow her to help him.

The fawn snapped that he’d dealt with thorns a thousand times, which made her have to resist asking why he was in this situation in the first place then. She watched in silence as he stretched around, chewing between the thorns on one of the thick stems. She saw what was about to happen before it happened, and attempt to warn him. “Don’t-” she started, but unfortunately it was too late. The thorny branch snapped back and slapped the colt right in the face, causing him to let out a cry of pain. She could see tears of pain welling in his eyes and, despite his foul attitude, it made her heart melt with sympathy. That had to have hurt!


“Let me help you.” she said again, this time not giving him the chance to tell her no. He was a Lord, so technically she could get in trouble for disobeying him… but he was still very young. Who would be angry at her for helping a fawn in need, even if it was a Lord? Summoning her magic, she focused on the thorns. She was still learning, but she felt confident that she could handle this. At first nothing happened then, gradually, the thorns that had kept the colt prisoner began to recede. Before long, rather than being a maze of snaking vines, they simply looked like roots laying upon the ground. Tuscan could easily step over them now.

Tuscan:

Tuscan was totally done with all of this. He hurt all over, especially his tail (which was especially sore at this point from all the tugging) and his thorn-raked face. He almost forgot about all about Sophiel, and certainly wasn’t listening to what she had to say, so deep within his own misery and woe he was.

Suddenly the pain that had been plaguing him since he got stuck (which had been quite a while by now, especially for a young one) began to subside. He felt an incredible release of tension that made his whole body tremble, and he looked behind him at where the thorns were slowly twisting out of his tangle mane and then down into the ground. Soon he was totally free, the pain gone to the point of making him feel weak with relief. He turned to gawk up at the lilac Lady, his dark eyes wide. “I… “ he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to thank her either. He finally decided to just look away and glare at the ground, and he sniffled. “I was about to do that myself,” was what he chose to mumble. He wasn’t three years old yet, but he was close to it by now, so maybe it wasn’t totally unreasonable for others to believe that he could use magic. Though of course the issue with his story was that magic to the degree of making thorny tendrils disappear as Sophiel had, well… he was years away from that sort of ability clearly. But he didn’t know that she would know that. Plus if he actually could have done that then clearly he would have long before now. So many holes. None of which Tuscan let himself acknowledge.

Sophiel:

As soon as she freed him, the little Lordling turned his shocked gaze to her. Had he not been expecting her to be able to that? He started to say something, but hesitated. The purply doe waited for the onslaught of hateful words that were surely to come for her disobedience, but they never came. Instead, the colt simply gave an indignant sniff, and stated that he was just about to do that himself. Obviously, it was a lie. If he was capable of doing that then why hadn't he just done it in the first place?

Instead of calling him out on it, the buck-toothed doe just gave the youngster a soft smile. “Are you alright?” She questioned him, concerned. She could see a bit of blood dribbling down his dark coat, but she couldn't tell how deep they were from this distance. Maternal instincts and her own compassionate personality told her to walk over him and inspect them. She longed to lick the blood away and hopefully make him feel a little better. Obviously, she didn't do this though. The colt as one of those who considered her an ugly freak; there was no way he'd want her to touch him.

Tuscan:

Tuscan glance up at Sophiel as the doe smiled at him in response to his statement. He quickly lowered his head again, glaring at the ground. He didn’t want to look at her smile. And he didn’t like her question. Maybe her smile had been kind and her voice was concerned, but Tuscan couldn’t see that. All he saw was smug. And satisfaction that she had managed to prove what a stupid fawnling he was by helping him so easily even when he didn’t want help. He had been mean to her despite deep down knowing that he needed her help. And she had helped him anyway. The only reason she would do that would be so she could rub it in his face. She can’t do this to me, humiliate me for her own amusement. I’m a Lord! A perfect handsome Lord. While she’s…. A freak. I don’t need her help, or anyone’s help. Resentment and discouragement bubbled within him.

He pulled away when she came forward and began to sniff him in concern. No doe did that to him anymore, not since his mother had died. He nearly backed right back into the thorns. “I’m fine, just… just… leave me alone.” With his ears pinned back and holding back more tears he hastily raced around her, desperate to find somewhere to be alone.

Sophiel:

As she'd suspected, the young colt didn't take very concern for him very lightly or with much appreciation. He snapped at her hatefully and she could see tears of embarrassment brimming in his eyes. Obviously the more thing was quite embarrassed. ”Okay.” was all that the purple-hued lady said, her voice soft and compliant. Tuscan whisked around her, taking off now that he was free to do so. Sophie let him go, not trying to stop him. He just needed to shake off his embarrassment was all. She decided that she would certainly check in on him in a very nonchalant way later… She'd take a little stroll by his father’s Glade and, if he wasn't there, she'd let Duncan know what had happened. Otherwise? She'd just leave the colt to lick his wounds.