Tiamat

like the ocean kissed the sky

It hurts, to think that one of her closest friends could have done such a terrible thing.

But…as much as the idea makes her own heart stutter painfully and her stomach clench tightly, it is easily eclipsed by her concern for him—she hurts for him. The ocean mare, in all of her white innocence and blissful naivety, cannot even begin to fathom what it must be like to live with such guilt. How awful it would be to live each day, knowing that you have stolen something so precious and irreplaceable. She pities him dearly, not wanting to think of the harrowing remorse. But it is that same guilt, that same shame and pain that she sees in his eyes, that lifts her spirits. It is because—with good faith and compassion—that guilt will give way to forgiveness, and then graciousness. His goodness will flower and flourish, if he takes this darkness and learns from it, learns from his mistakes.

She is sure of this—sure of him, even when his rasping breath continues to leave in cold, mourning sighs from his lips. Tiamat shifts her weight so that she rests more upright, her slender legs curling underneath her more comfortably in the soft grasses. “But it doesn’t have to happen—you don’t have to feel this way,” her white eyes settle on him with a warm intensity, ever earnest in her insistence of the goodness of this world—this dreadful, dark world that has only tried to crack her little cocoon of light. She refuses to release her hope and her belief of its mercy.

“There is enough goodness in your heart to triumph these shadows, I know there is. You’ve shown me. If you would just put your faith in this, in yourself, then I know you can be the honest man you are, you don’t have to give in—” her words are tightened and choked by the sudden rise of emotions, thinking of the pain that he has spoken of—of the shadows that haunt him. It is nearly too horrifying a picture, and she suppresses a shudder as a cold chill spider webs through her muscles. The mare’s gaze falls slowly from his face, finding a little bug in the grasses and watching as it climbs through the blades, hiccupping once against another threat of tears.

Tiamat doesn’t want to think of his sins anymore, doesn’t want to ponder on what evils haunt his past. They are in the past—and they must look to the future now, with promise. Exhaling a weighted breath, she purses her lips and pauses a moment before speaking. “It’s not just about losing your cool,” her pale eyes flicker back up to the stallion, a whisper of a chuckle escaping in some merciful humor, though her gaze is more stern than usual. Death, murder, sin—they are not subjects to be played with. “Those were people’s lives, Nox,” Tiamat’s voice breaks and her lip trembles, her head tucking into her chest when a single tear wets her cheek.

The ocean mare swallows several times, managing to avoid another fit of tears, and though the sorrow still lingers in her gaze when she looks to Nox again, there is also promise. Like she said, she believes in him, and she’s not about to give up hope. “Whatever it takes to help you…you are my dear friend, and I don’t want to—I can’t—see you do something so hateful again. If you ever need anything from me, please, don’t hesitate to ask; I want to help you,” she offers him an encouraging smile, this one warmer than the last, and she reaches out to brush his cheek soothingly, “Even if we have to decorate every tree in Helovia.” Tiamat laughs lightly, the sound coming easier now, the glow of brilliance slowly returning to illuminate the dainty lines of her face. She won’t give up on him.


notes; 100 posts YAY!:DD
“Speech.”