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09-02-2015, 10:21 PM
The large black stallion eyes Tiamat for a short moment, the stare of his red eyes heavy and piercing in the shadows of night, but the ocean mare doesn’t flinch in her persistence to help him. She holds the herb out to him, white eyes unwavering in their pea. The stallion’s hesitancy is not wholly surprising. They are strangers, after all, and while that is a little fact that is easily brushed aside by herself, she recognizes that it isn’t so simple for everyone. Trusting isn’t always easy (she knows this, but doesn’t understand it, as childlike as she is with her own heart), and it wouldn’t be the first time that help has been refused, much to her sorrow.
Fortunately, the large stallion doesn’t refuse such aid now—he snatches the sprig from her lips, murmuring an off-handed thanks which makes her smile. “You’re very welcome,” her white eyes glisten from beneath the winkling of her sister stars, the delicate lines of her features outlined by the fire’s glow, “let me know if I can help you with anything else.” Her gaze trails from his face to the rest of his body again, concerned for the ghastly state of his wounds, but she is smart enough not to push him. He took the comfrey root, and that’s good enough for now.
Giving him a final, crooked grin, Tiamat shifts her attention to Ashamin when he speaks, fluted ears pricking intently forward. Her heartbeat picks up in anticipation when he mentions the Basin’s history. Although she knows that being a healer has been—and always will be—her true calling, the ocean mare’s thirst for knowledge is unmistakable. She loves the mountainous valley with her whole heart, but realizes now that there is a lot that she doesn’t know about its history. She is excited to remedy that.
As it is, change is inevitable—it is as much a part of life as anything else. Like the constant changing of seasons, or the steady rush and retreat of the ocean, so do all of them need change (hopefully for the better, of course). “There is always hope,” the blue mare murmurs, almost to herself, not sure if anyone else could hear her. And where there is hope, good things cannot be far. She believes this simple, heartening credence to be true. Tiamat knows nothing else but to hope for the best, to believe in the best, and to look for the best—in herself, everyone, and everything. And so it is with a bright, glowing smile that she parts her lips, her white eyes settling gently on each of the others. “It was a stormy, special night…”
“Speech.”
Fortunately, the large stallion doesn’t refuse such aid now—he snatches the sprig from her lips, murmuring an off-handed thanks which makes her smile. “You’re very welcome,” her white eyes glisten from beneath the winkling of her sister stars, the delicate lines of her features outlined by the fire’s glow, “let me know if I can help you with anything else.” Her gaze trails from his face to the rest of his body again, concerned for the ghastly state of his wounds, but she is smart enough not to push him. He took the comfrey root, and that’s good enough for now.
Giving him a final, crooked grin, Tiamat shifts her attention to Ashamin when he speaks, fluted ears pricking intently forward. Her heartbeat picks up in anticipation when he mentions the Basin’s history. Although she knows that being a healer has been—and always will be—her true calling, the ocean mare’s thirst for knowledge is unmistakable. She loves the mountainous valley with her whole heart, but realizes now that there is a lot that she doesn’t know about its history. She is excited to remedy that.
As it is, change is inevitable—it is as much a part of life as anything else. Like the constant changing of seasons, or the steady rush and retreat of the ocean, so do all of them need change (hopefully for the better, of course). “There is always hope,” the blue mare murmurs, almost to herself, not sure if anyone else could hear her. And where there is hope, good things cannot be far. She believes this simple, heartening credence to be true. Tiamat knows nothing else but to hope for the best, to believe in the best, and to look for the best—in herself, everyone, and everything. And so it is with a bright, glowing smile that she parts her lips, her white eyes settling gently on each of the others. “It was a stormy, special night…”
“Speech.”
And at last I see the light.
Late into the night, on the anniversary of his birthday, the Aurora Basin’s Haruspex was to experience something that would change his life forever: the hatching of his companion. From the egg emerged a dark little cerndyr, whom Ashamin named Lochan. Not long after, the pair was joined by a mysterious and fantastical entity called the Watcher. The Watcher gifted Ashamin with a tesla coil to decorate his tail. Members of the Basin then began to trickle into the Haruspex’s cave, drawn in by the fire’s warmth from the night’s winter storm and congratulating the newly bonded. Before long, with the crowd clustering together against the cold, they shared in the telling of stories. Round the fire they told of wonders, spinning together words of both imagination and experience, winter’s cold bite soon forgotten as the night drew on.
My Little Eye
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
