[ P ] what we used to know

It was early morning and Bellamy had gone to the market for supplies. He carried with him a little tattered bag full of meats and herbs through the main streets of Yorkshire. Once his bag was full, he knew it was time to return home. He was slow-going, not finding any reason to rush this morning as he walked towards the estate his father had left behind for him. His childhood home he'd never really left. It was strange now, with his parents gone, but since the fog had disappeared everything had been different. He hadn't felt like he'd aged a day, yet he knew he was older now. Still he retained the young and vigor of a much younger man. It perplexed him and he wondered if the fog had anything to do with it. Not enough studies had been made to know for sure yet.

Bellamy walked inside his home, placed his purchased food in its proper place, then returned outdoors to his front step. The old, crumbling stairway led down to the street and he noticed someone a distances away, walking through cobbled paths. His ears flicked as his gaze settled on her golden fur and he canted his head briefly, curiously. He didn't know what made him follow those stairs down that pathway and to her but he stopped a few feet away and bowed his head in greeting, a small smile on his lips. "Good day, miss." he said. And it was a good day, or so he thought. The sun was shining, it was a warm spring morning and he had no more chores left to do.

"Bellamy Speaks"

The settings were unfamiliar to her senses. She had no recollection of the significance of the current smells, sounds, or situations. Vasilica was on another continent in another world and she was lost. In regards to familiarity, at least, lost was a feeling she had before. Years ago - or was it that many? - she had dealt with the feeling of loss, loneliness, and no respite in either one. As she slowly walked along a random street, it attempted to press weight upon her like a heavy blanket. The pressure of her purpose was leaning heavily on her mind; there was nothing she could do to help it ease.

Another thing she did not realize could happen was having a stranger find her right off the bat. Her brain was foggy, lavender eyes rising to meet the orbs of the taller male a foot away. He was taller, his pelt dark and contrasting greatly against his gaze. His greeting was a low rumble, a small smile appearing on his lips. He appeared to be groomed and put together. Vasilica turned inwardly on herself with her thoughts. How did she look? Was she as scruffy as she felt?

Pressure from potential society expectations finally added to the weight of that blanket. Rather than greet him and have a conversation smoothly follow, Vasilica felt the strain give. Her lavender eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed. Vasilica Newt Saxe had fainted.

She looked up at him, but said nothing. Bellamy thought that perhaps she had not heard him or maybe she was ignoring him when suddenly, her eyes rolled back and she fell to the ground. Surprise flittered through him, quickly followed by concern. She did not shake upon the ground so he did not think it a seizure, but she remained still and breathing at his feet. Bellamy wasted no time in hoisting her unconscious body upon his broad shoulders and turning to trail back up the stairway from which he'd come.

He did not have water, or something that he might douse her with to wake her up so he gently set her down once he was inside his home and moved to close the door so that she could have some privacy. He walked the edge of the room before sitting near her side and resting a large paw on her slender shoulder. He gave her a few shakes before letting his paw slip off her and allowing her the time to come to. Usually fainting did not last long, from his experience, and so he expected her to come around within a few moments. If she did not, he would simply call for his family doctor. He would know what to do.

"Bellamy Speaks"

Vasilica would not be aware of what happened after she had fainted. When you had the blissful darkness for a little bit, you were able to avoid the real world and all its tasks. You would have thought that she had fainted on purpose, considering what her brain kept trying to process. Alas, the Saxe woman was far from finding life alternatives, so she dealt with everything head on.

When Vasilica slowly came back from being unconscious, she did not realize where she was. The bright warmth of the outdoors had been replaced by an inside space that was cooler and darker. She felt a warm paw, larger than hers, on her person, before the warmth was replaced by cool air. Her ears detected breathing nearby and a rustle or two of thick pads against a wooden floor. As her hearing returned, so did her vision. Lavender eyes blinked a few times, awareness slowly seeping into her other senses. She felt the hard floor beneath her, the coolness of it seeping into her skin and fur. She breathed in and caught the cologne of a warm frame near her. The cedar wood smell pulled itself to her nose and it made her growing awareness more relaxed than if she were somewhere else.

After her vision became clear, Vasilica raised her lavender eyes to meet the lanterns of his gaze. Watching his face for any signs of emotion, she blinked again before hoarsely saying, “Good day, sir.” Her Romanian accent lilted when she spoke, her tail thumping once against the cool wood floor.

Thankfully he did not have to call for a doctor, for she came to moments later. She blinked away fatigue from her eyes and greeted him, a strange accent upon her lips. He'd never heard such a thing before but found it to be unusual and intriguing. His own words were accented with that of an English man, but he hardly ever thought about the way he spoke.

He offered her a small smile, thinking to himself that at least she was friendly and not rabid. Though he did wonder what had caused her to faint in the first place.

"Are you quite alright? I could call for a doctor if you think you need one," he said. He was concerned for her but also did not wish to intrude upon her day any more than he already had. If she wanted to be on her way then he would not stop her but he would certainly advise against it given what had just happened.

He cleared his throat after a moment then dipped his head slightly. "Oh, and by the way my name is Bellamy Marchand. You can just call me Bell, if you wish." he offered. He had not yet introduced himself and that was quite rude of him so now seemed the perfect time.

"Bellamy Speaks"