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09-24-2015, 03:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-24-2015, 03:17 AM by Tiamat.
Edit Reason: fixing tags
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The alien sickness had seemed to infect her quickly, once it had a chance to lay its dirty fingers across her satin body. It had scared her at first—frightening as it had been, to suddenly have one’s vision blotted out and blurred, and your throat clotted with thick, black mucus until breathing sometimes became difficult. Who wouldn’t be terrified? Naturally, the ocean mare had tried her best in figuring out how to treat it, or at least something to alleviate the discomfort. She had found various herbs, roots, and sprigs known to aid in such respiratory or immunity distress, had both eaten them and slathered them in a paste across her face, but despite all of her best efforts thus far, the sickness endured. After the miracle of Halcyon Flats, Tiamat had intended to make her way north, back to the Aurora Basin. The thought of home is comforting enough, but perhaps Lena or Enna would be there—surely a Time Mender would know what to do!—and the beckoning of the warm steam at the hot springs, seeping into her congested airways, is tantalizing enough to make her sigh longingly (consequently sending her into another fit of gagging, racking coughs). She has not been infected nearly as long as some of the others, or so she has been told, and her heart goes out to those who have suffered. How can she expect to be a healer, when she can’t even take care of herself? It is a silly and irrational thought—this sickness cannot possibly be normal, as strange and foreign as it is—but that does not dampen her desire to help the others, heal them, mend them. It is her heart’s calling to do so, in any situation, she has no doubt about that. The ocean mare likely would be disheartened right about now, suffering from the black sludge and discouraged in her failed attempts at a cure, but—oddly enough—she is not. Not at the moment, anyway. Having become disoriented in her travels from the south, Tiamat had thus strayed from her course towards the Basin, and now finds herself standing at the wide, flat expanse of the ocean. Endless Blue. It truly is endless. “Hello, Papa!” The young mare cries out to the ocean, her voice a singsong of gurgling laughter and trilling euphoria. She is on a high—buoyed by the sparing of bloodshed at Halcyon Flats, indescribably grateful for the Sun God’s mercy, and standing now again at her father’s side, how could she not be exhilarated in her joy? The Labyrinth’s Lung still runs its black mark across her face, thick goop gathering at the corners of her eyes and leaking from her nostrils, spraying from her tongue with every peal of laughter—it is by no means a pretty sight, but she cares little about that. The sickness has now painted for her for a symphony of colors, vibrant hues rising from the ocean to wrap around her in pulsating ribbons of sound. She delights in their wild ballet of color, stepping high as she prances forward, dancing happily along the shoreline with the ribbons entwining and playing about her. So often plagued by her recent suffering, the mare revels in this moment of joy, however delusional it might be. notes;; She sees sounds in color because of the GLL:) so excited! “Speech.” |
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
