The taller stallion accepts her company without any obvious hesitation, and his surprise at her gesture of friendship goes unnoticed by the blue mare. Being so incredibly open and accepting herself, the idea of someone being unused to such intimate gestures is nearly foreign to her innocent, blissful mind. The possibility that this dark stranger (alone, in the woods, in the middle of the night) could pose any kind of threat to her doesn’t even rise in her thoughts. Tiamat, as some would say, is foolishly trusting. But where would the world be, if everyone only prepared themselves for the worst? If everyone only looked for the flaws, what would the goodness matter then? Would it matter at all?

That is why she lives every moment with a full investment of her large, unquestioning heart.
(And that is why her recent suspicions of Kisamoa have haunted her so terribly, as that black, stubborn seed of doubt thrashes and tears at everything she holds dear).

Still, the young Mender has managed to hold on to (cling to) the very core of her beliefs, and she has no intention of allowing herself to fall any deeper into these frightening, churning shadows. She stares into the stallion’s silvery eyes (fathomless, beautiful, and enchanting) with this same hope brimming in her own gaze, casting a lifeline into the waters for anyone who might grasp it. Little does she know of the turmoil that wars in her newfound company, but Tiamat doesn’t have to know. That is simply what she does—she loves; with every fiber of her being, she cares.

Her lips quirk into a crooked smile, laughing softly at his mention of Helovia’s wont for gatherings. “That is very true,” white eyes dance as she ponders on this strange, wonderful world that they live in. “There have been quite a few such gatherings lately, I’ve probably seen you around at least once,” Tiamat throws him a playful wink, giggling once before clearing her throat and trying to hide the way her demeanor wilts. She fails, of course—she has been, and always will be, an open book—and usually she would have it no other way.

There are memories she would rather forget, images of blood and violence that she wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and the cries of war that still echo in the deepest, most haunting part of her dreams. Indeed; there are many other things that she would rather focus on, no matter how the nightmares trouble her.
(Will her fragile mind ever recover?)

She is grateful when the stallion continues, brightening their conversation with his talk of his children. “Vesper and Virga…” the Mender murmurs to herself, rolling the names around in her muddled thoughts before the memories click. “Oh!” She exclaims with recognition, though she immediately becomes bashful, embarrassed by her sudden outburst of excitement. Chastising herself, she peeks in the general direction that he had glanced, and offers him an (adorable, let’s be honest) apologetic grin before continuing with her train of thought: “Those adventurous little darlings; I see the relation in you now, they’re beautiful children. You should be proud.” However, Tiamat can tell by the mere tone of his voice that this is one doting father. He needn’t be reminded.

“I’ve met them briefly—they’re in the Basin, aren’t they? I don’t think I’ve seen you there though?” It is anything but an accusation, rather a question of curiosity. Tiamat would like to think that she is as involved with her beloved herd as she wants to be, but the cruel truth is, she hasn’t been around much recently. There are undoubtedly many faces that she hasn’t seen and friends that have yet to be made. Not for the first time, she vows to herself that it must change.

Widening her smile when the stallion introduces himself, her glittering eyes shift briefly to the large, four-winged bird as it glides over to them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mesec—and you as well, Lucius,” the ocean mare gives each of them a pleasant inclination of her hollow horn, her eyes resting on Lucius for a moment longer. “He’s a handsome bird,” she comments when she focuses again on Mesec. Like many species of companions in Helovia, Tiamat is vaguely familiar with the idea of Zephyrs, although she knows very little about them. (Another kindling to her fire of curiosity).

When Mesec questions about Nimue, the blue mare curves her neck around to brush her muzzle against her companion’s side. “You aren’t the first to ask,” Tiamat says with a grin, exhaling a soft, white breath across the little orca’s face. “She is a Leviathan—a creature of the ocean, and a cousin to the larger whales there. I’ve only ever seen one other one myself.” She still marvels at this gift she has been given, and how fortunate she is. Nimue presses close to her bonded, the majority of her attention focusing on Lucius, who is currently large enough to rival the young whale’s size. Her baby blue eyes are large with uncertainty, not knowing what the eagle-like creature is, but undoubtedly curious all the same.


notes; I'm sorry if it's rambling or choppy, I have to learn how to harness muse again xD
Nimue reference
“Speech.”

and I can be your light

in the dark I will shine to guide you