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The dappled gray stallion introduces himself like a true gentleman, complimenting her company and bowing his head in a respectful show of chivalry. “I could say the same, Ciceron,” the ocean mare beams sincerely, the warmth of her smile uninhibited despite their unfamiliarity with one another, and she returns the favor with a dainty curtsy of her curved horn, white eyes alight and shining like the stars when they rise to him once more. She feels fortunate to have come across him this night, and praise him with the admiration he deserves (she knows that many similar, generous acts go unnoticed or unacknowledged—but that is what makes them so selfless, isn’t? Their pursuit to help, rather than gain recognition). Even so, her heart warms with her gratitude.
Everyone likes to hear such nice things, don’t they? She couldn’t possibly have deprived Ciceron of her fervent appreciation.
The blue mare’s gratitude rises and blooms with excitement when she sees remembrance flutter across his face, tulip-shaped ears pressing forward to catch his deep voice. She nods, pressing her lips together as a silent breath is blown from her nostrils. “Prevent it all from happening,” Tiamat agrees, returning his gentle grin with one of her own. The battles have cast a weight that is sometimes difficult to shoulder, her good heart dismayed and wrought with all of the violence and hate, but it is over now. She can’t allow herself to linger in the shadows of grief.
“I haven’t seen her since the battle,” Tiamat replies to his inquiry of Enna’s wellbeing, her doe eyes returning to Ciceron from where they had wandered. It is more of an admission, her features nearly becoming embarrassed (the little mare hasn’t left her mind since then, and she had looked for her, but perhaps not as intently as she should have) before she continues. “But her wounds will stave off infection, at least, and she was sound enough to rise and remove herself from the battle.” Tiamat nods once, her smile growing more assuredly again, “She is also a gifted healer, so I think we needn’t worry anymore.”
The ocean mare’s confidence in the young Time Mender doesn’t waver, giving her the assurance and comfort she needs to hope for the best—Enna is safe and sound, she knows it. Brushing her lion tail across the ground, the mare’s features brighten when Ciceron accepts her kindly offer, their warm breaths mingling in the summer air. “Thank you again,” she murmurs once more, sure that it will never be enough. Pulling slowly back from him, she rests her weight comfortably, one slender hip dipping sharply to the side. “What brings you out tonight, Ciceron? Do you wander often?”
“Speech.”
Everyone likes to hear such nice things, don’t they? She couldn’t possibly have deprived Ciceron of her fervent appreciation.
The blue mare’s gratitude rises and blooms with excitement when she sees remembrance flutter across his face, tulip-shaped ears pressing forward to catch his deep voice. She nods, pressing her lips together as a silent breath is blown from her nostrils. “Prevent it all from happening,” Tiamat agrees, returning his gentle grin with one of her own. The battles have cast a weight that is sometimes difficult to shoulder, her good heart dismayed and wrought with all of the violence and hate, but it is over now. She can’t allow herself to linger in the shadows of grief.
“I haven’t seen her since the battle,” Tiamat replies to his inquiry of Enna’s wellbeing, her doe eyes returning to Ciceron from where they had wandered. It is more of an admission, her features nearly becoming embarrassed (the little mare hasn’t left her mind since then, and she had looked for her, but perhaps not as intently as she should have) before she continues. “But her wounds will stave off infection, at least, and she was sound enough to rise and remove herself from the battle.” Tiamat nods once, her smile growing more assuredly again, “She is also a gifted healer, so I think we needn’t worry anymore.”
The ocean mare’s confidence in the young Time Mender doesn’t waver, giving her the assurance and comfort she needs to hope for the best—Enna is safe and sound, she knows it. Brushing her lion tail across the ground, the mare’s features brighten when Ciceron accepts her kindly offer, their warm breaths mingling in the summer air. “Thank you again,” she murmurs once more, sure that it will never be enough. Pulling slowly back from him, she rests her weight comfortably, one slender hip dipping sharply to the side. “What brings you out tonight, Ciceron? Do you wander often?”
“Speech.”
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
