03-25-2010, 11:31 AM
o.o.c. - Thats fine. 
They are metal, iron, rusted, you got it perfectly.
.O.f.f. Yes. They needed off. Gone. Destroyed. Caramel depths switched rapidly to and fro, from the white-fingered hand that engulfed her shackled foreleg, to the face of the man holding it. Her heart beat an unsteady tempo, trading panic for reason and back to panic again. It was...difficult to feel hands on her that did not harbor the intent to harm. Then again, this brute's intentions were spoken for...but tongues lied all the time. Istabel shut her eyes briefly as she forced her rising terror into submission once again, swallowing hard as though she could force it down physically.
Istabel traded a silent nod for his remark, her face solemn and pensive as she continued to watch him. She tipped her chin to one side, exposing the thick, metal band that encircled her throat. Upon it, etched in a crooked, uneven hand, was one word: 'I.s.t.a.b.e.l' ...The white pelt beneath it had been stained black and gray by the months upon months of use. It was a vulnerable gesture that threatened to override her instilled calm...but necessary to exhibit the full measure of her situation. The shackles were not the only thing that needed to come off. One was still linked to the collar by a crooked chain. The other chain dangled free...no doubt the source of the noise that had drawn the stranger here.
They are metal, iron, rusted, you got it perfectly. .O.f.f. Yes. They needed off. Gone. Destroyed. Caramel depths switched rapidly to and fro, from the white-fingered hand that engulfed her shackled foreleg, to the face of the man holding it. Her heart beat an unsteady tempo, trading panic for reason and back to panic again. It was...difficult to feel hands on her that did not harbor the intent to harm. Then again, this brute's intentions were spoken for...but tongues lied all the time. Istabel shut her eyes briefly as she forced her rising terror into submission once again, swallowing hard as though she could force it down physically.
Istabel traded a silent nod for his remark, her face solemn and pensive as she continued to watch him. She tipped her chin to one side, exposing the thick, metal band that encircled her throat. Upon it, etched in a crooked, uneven hand, was one word: 'I.s.t.a.b.e.l' ...The white pelt beneath it had been stained black and gray by the months upon months of use. It was a vulnerable gesture that threatened to override her instilled calm...but necessary to exhibit the full measure of her situation. The shackles were not the only thing that needed to come off. One was still linked to the collar by a crooked chain. The other chain dangled free...no doubt the source of the noise that had drawn the stranger here.