the ocean loved her and knew everything that made her.
and every time she’d walk to the shore,
she’d smile at the ocean
because the waves told her story.
As far as the blue maiden can tell, the two warriors seem to get along right away. Wessex is quick to regard the Basin’s General with an honorable amount of respect, shifting her posture to one more militaristic, and the Mender can’t help but watch them, trying to understand. Their conversation is foreign to her (comprehending it, that is). With the glass heart of a healer, Tiamat has never understood the need for violence, or the joy that some people take in the bloodshed of others. In all the battles that she has witnessed, she has only seen pain and hate—where is the pleasure in that? Where is the glory?
Even so, she remains respectably quiet, allowing them to discuss the matters of their own rank. She tries not to get too caught up in the brief explanation that Wessex gives of her history, trying not to dwell on how sad it is that she has already been subjected to so much violence (because she knows that it is not sad for everyone, even if she can’t grasp any inkling of beauty in warfare herself).
However, when the larger mare mentions the death of her leader, Tiamat finds herself suddenly absorbed in their conversation. It is personal, now.
The death of a ruler is, unfortunately, something that they have all been a victim of.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. It is a devastating thing to lose a leader,” the mare’s voice is little more than a murmur of grief, her gaze shifting to Erebos and lingering on him for a moment, knowing that with whatever devastation she feels within herself, his pain must be multiplied tenfold. Unable to help herself, Tiamat reaches to him again, brushing his shoulder if he will allow it. “But from our loss, we will learn to rise again, climbing even higher with the strength of our predecessors to guide us,” she hopes to lift all of their spirits, even for a moment if possible, ever searching for a thread of hope in the darkness.
Turning her eyes then to their newest herd member, Tiamat smiles, the gesture soft and encouraging across her sapphire lips. “I think you will do good here,” she says with confidence, already fond of her newfound friend, “We are happy to have you.” The ocean maiden reaches out to touch Wessex’s muzzle, exchanging breaths in an action of welcome and friendship.
“Speech.”
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