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Suddenly there is a voice, a new ribbon of light and color that dances out to her, a soft yellow that weaves through the vibrant blues, greens, and purples of her father’s rhythmic lullaby. Tiamat’s white eyes follow the length of the cadenced streamer—so smooth, so elegant in between the dancing and animated colors that pulsate with every breaking wave—until her attention finally comes to rest on the source. It is a large and beautiful stallion, with eyes that seem to dance like the ribbons that waltz around them, the brilliant beam of day crowning his figure in a glowing halo of light. “Hello!” The ocean mare calls out to the stranger, amiable and bright, her own voice trilling through the air like the light pattering of rain, flowering bursts of yellows and blues that weave and curve around her legs before dancing out to the stallion in a flourish of color. She laughs as she steps towards him, her muscles seeming to glide in the buoyancy of her delight. “What beautiful wings you have!” Her enraptured exclamation is decorated by the soft pink of wonderment, velvet lips parting in a little ‘o’ of awe as her eyes trace the pristine feathers, so clean and silky in their whiteness, she suddenly has the urge to press her face against their soft down. Thoroughly entertained by the idea of doing so, the blue mare laughs blithely to herself, tucking her dainty head in towards her chest as though bashful. He draws closer and settles at her shoulder (so distracted is she from her blissful enchantment, that the stallion’s darkened look of concern goes unnoticed), the plumed length of her leonine tail swaying restlessly out behind her in her excitement. Her pale eyes, having wandered to follow another billowing ribbon of his voice (rougher now at the edges, she notices with their proximity), flicker back to the Pegasus’ face. “Wha—oh! Yes,” Tiamat gives a slow nod of her head. So mesmerized by the enthusiasm of her happiness, the ocean mare had nearly forgotten about the strange virus that infects her body, and she sobers slowly from the euphoria that had lifted her distress. She clings to hope, to goodness, to the faith that this battle of body can be won, even as a fit of coughs has her spraying the black slime in wild dark flecks across the sands. Blinking against the blurriness of her gaze, she looks to the stranger, her brow knitting together when she notices that he, too, has been infected. On instinct, her heart goes out to him, throbbing and hammering in her desire to help, leaving her with the ugly sense of frustration in her inability to do so. “I’m not sure…but I don’t think it’s native to Helovia—it’s so strange, and anything I’ve tried hasn’t seemed to cure it, or even alleviate the discomfort,” blue lips pucker in her silent disappointment, her long tail lashing in a much more jagged motion. “Do you think that it could be related to the new lands that the Gods are bringing?” Her voice is much quieter in her contemplation, humming softly. In the innocence of her mind, in the purity of her thoughts, Tiamat cannot possibly imagine that the Gods would intentionally bring this upon them (Gods are meant to protect and guide, are they not?)—or that the foreigners, the Rifters, would either. Surely someone can’t be so cruel as to wish upon anyone such suffering and pain. Exhaling in a rasping and congested breath, the ocean mare blinks away the goop from her eyes and looks back to the stranger, offering him a crooked grin. “My name is Tiamat, by the way.” “Speech.” |
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
