Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
She expects her companions to be taken aback by the bold way in which she suddenly speaks to them— rejecting Solomon’s flattery, questioning Cain’s motives. But surprisingly, both stallions appear to take the mercurial shift of Chelle’s mood in stride. Her ears tip curiously toward the sound of the piebald’s voice, listening to his words with a guarded expression. She cannot help but to admire the cleverness with which Cain seeks to turn his rival’s compliment in his own favor, but their ogling still nettles the freckled woman for a reason that she cannot entirely explain. As if these creatures believe that she were goods that could be bought with the coin of their smooth, saccharine words.
Chelle is more mollified by the honesty that the black-and-white stallion offers in his next speech— nodding in a silent and noncommittal acknowledgment of his offer. The amber mare doesn’t yet feel comfortable enough with him to accept the kindness that he offers. But the truth— that she accepts willingly, her bright eyes turning thoughtful as she considers what is revealed. It does not surprise her to be warned that there are individuals here who may seek to rob her of her freedom, but the smooth repose of her face is broken by a frown regardless. She has been familiar enough in her years with the feeling of chains, and is not certain that she would return to them willingly even for the sake of escaping the desperate sorrow of her solitude. It occurs to her that she should consider the debtless aid that Cain offered, if only to escape this place unmolested— but for that, she would first need to know where to ask that he take her beyond the too-vague away.
It is a question that— given her all-too-evident innocence— Chelle cannot hope to answer.
Fortunately, Solomon rescues her from the long and uncomfortable silence that might have followed the Vanner’s offer with a proposal of his own. And now it is the red-haired girl who is shocked, the sour note of her suspicion so deftly undone by the Cove king’s frank summary of his character. Rather than attempting to paint a portrait as flawless as the one that his rival has offered, Solomon confesses openly to both selfishness and avarice without a hint of shame. In a handful of words, he has not only matched Chelle in her boldness, but outdone her— and the red-gold tobiano cedes victory to him with a sultry smile and an openly-admiring glance.
“I confess that your honesty is refreshing, Solomon. And yours as well, Cain,” She offers warmly. Doubts and uncertainties still linger at the forefront of her thoughts, but one thing is at least made clear in the tension that charges the air. Before Chelle can move on, she knows that she must make a choice. She will either leave here with Solomon, with Cain— or alone. And for once, the decision is truly her own to make.
It is both a heady and sobering thought.
“But I’m afraid,” the amber champagne continues after this short beat of silence with a note of mischief. “That I haven’t stated intentions of going home with either of you. You’ve shared your names and your...virtues—” At this she glances again at the tall thin male, her green eyes laughing. “But I don’t know you truly— no more than you know me. So I would ask for that help you freely offered, Cain, and beg the same of Solomon: convince me. And if you can do this, then I will follow you wherever you choose to lead me.”
Embracing silence and the gentle flutter of her heart, Chelle waits— wondering what sort of words or actions her offer might invite.