The ocean mare doesn’t remember falling asleep.
In fact, she doesn’t remember much before this very moment. The darkness from behind her eyelids envelopes her, shifting and turning somewhere between wakefulness and dreams—black and cold. “Mama!” Tiamat gasps, her eyes suddenly snapping open. Her pupils constrict from the stark whiteness that assaults her, eyes narrowing as they squint against the harsh, blinding light. When they adjust she finds what she is looking for—the soft blue of her mother sky, accompanied by the white puffs of her sister clouds. Her mother is with her again as she had remembered, safe and sound.
Sighing contentedly with that security, Tiamat moves forward through the forest that she has found herself in. A shiver runs the length of her spine, reminding her of the wintry season, the snowy blanket seeming to silence this world into a quiet sleep. But she does not feel as though it is calm—no, this sleep is restless, hushed, and waiting. She flicks her tail uncertainly, hoping that her discomfort will be shed and left behind her. She wishes to find happier, more delightful things.
Her white eyes peering through the snow-laden trees, Tiamat glimpses something—someone—a figure standing in the shallows of a lake. Her gaze narrows as she inspects him, his lanky build and incredibly long tail, but recognition comes slowly. Like the lazy pull of molasses, sluggish, thick, and hazy, memories begin to piece themselves together in the blurred hues of her mind. A face, a friend, a name. “Ashamin!” She calls out to him happily, the corners of her mouth curling upwards with the comforting knowledge that she won’t be alone in this strange and twisted place.
But the long-tailed stallion does not answer her—his body wavers, shuddering and quivering before faltering, his legs betraying him as they give out. “ASHAMIN—NO!” Tiamat screams as she watches him collapse into the water, her features, usually so cheerful and bright, twisting in fear and horror before she is able to make herself move. It is as though the molasses has spread from her mind, seeping into the flesh of her muscles and the marrow of her bones, deadening her movement until all she can do is crawl. The blue mare screams inside, willing herself to travel faster, her white gaze fixing on Ashamin like a lifeline, pulling her forward through the obscurity that has become her mind and body.
Time passes—seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days?—before the blue mare finds herself at the water’s edge, and it is only then, in the proximity of her dear friend, that her muscles are released from her body’s haze. Like a rubber band she snaps forward, stumbling into the frigid waters of her brother. A gasp hitches in her throat when the icy chill meets her skin, but she doesn’t waste a moment—with her eyes still fixed on Ashamin, she staggers to his head, her muzzle lowering to his cheek. “I’m here, my friend. You will be all right,” she croons through panting breaths, the weariness of her body creeping slowly into her bones.
“What happened? What—” she begins to question him, but as her eyes wander over his figure, she finds his injuries. A cold unrelated to winter’s grasp spreads over her, prickling her skin and quickening her heart with its horror. The two long gashes on his flank are no longer their shining, impressive gold—the liquid crimson of blood has crept in, taking over and revealing the wounds in their raw, mangled flesh. It is as if they are fresh, newly lacerated and grossly torn. “Oh no,” Tiamat gasps, choking on any other words that might’ve escaped her tongue—her throat tight and her chest knotting.
This…this can’t be happening!
It can’t.
notes; -prepares self for all the feels-
tag; @[Ashamin]
“Speech.”
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