Somewhere near the center of the Basin’s valley, Tiamat rests among the summer flowers and highland grasses. She lies at the edge of her brother lake, one foreleg dangling over the damp bank, her cloven hoof playing quietly in the shallow waters. Her eyes are fixed lazily across the shimmering surface, focusing on three small orbs of floating water, which spin around one another in the air. It is a relaxing exercise for the ocean mare; she has found in the seasons that have passed since her discovery of her magic, using it comes easier to her now, it is more of an extension of herself (a muscle she has finally learned to strengthen and control).

Sighing somewhat loudly to herself (a sound which immediately fades into a light hum, echoing a pleasant tune of a song she once heard), the young Mender turns her head. The three pockets of water quickly fall back into the clear lake without her concentration, scattering a spray of droplets that dot her skin. Tiamat pays it little mind. Her attention is already consumed with something else—something (someone) that has been the core of any thought or action for the last several weeks.

Nestled tenderly in the crook of her neck, rests a most precious and marvelous thing—a large speckled egg, glittering and beautiful and perfect. It has been utterly surreal for her to have it. For years, the ocean mare has observed the bond between equine and companion, she has even witnessed that most blessed moment of hatching, when such a beautiful connection is born. Like so many others, she has dreamed of the day when she would have her own opportunity, and now that the dream is becoming a reality, she finds herself more giddy and anxious with each day that passes.

Even her sister stars (which are just starting to blink into the rosy mid-light of dusk) seem excited as they twinkle and dance above. Tiamat smiles softly, reaching to brush velvet lips across the polished surface, marveling for the millionth time at the brilliant color, sprinkled with sapphire spots that are undoubtedly fitting for the blue mare.

And then—

Tiamat recoils suddenly, startled by something that surely was her imagination (or could it really be...?) Dare she hope?

Movement,

So subtle and unassuming, and yet incredibly momentous, like the pulse of a heartbeat. Holding her breath, the ocean mare reaches forward again, pressing the downy skin of her nose against the rounded surface. She cannot mistake it this time—the babe inside moves. Laughing brilliantly, Tiamat springs to her hooves, her head thrown to the clouds as her heart pounds with the pleasant mixture of nervousness, excitement, and bliss. “It’s time!” She gasps breathlessly, “It’s really happening!” The eagerness in her demeanor is unmistakable. Every line of her face and every curve of her posture is laced with a fervor for something remarkable. White eyes watch the egg, and the world grows quiet, her breath hitching when—

—a crack.



notes; Open to anyone! :DD
There is also an OPEN posting order, so the thread doesn't get hung up or drag out.
I'll post the actual hatching in the next day or two (provided someone replies by then), and if you haven't posted before I replied again, feel free to jump in whenever you can!
“Speech.”