“HELP!”

The cry echoes over the tundra’s flat, snowy plains, guiding the blue mare’s attention towards the rise of mountains that mirror those of her homeland. She lifts her head from where she had been ruffling through the snow for good grass to graze, her tongue pulling a few stray blades into her lips as her ears press forward, cupping the voice with keen interest. Whether or not she is going to pursue the source of the desperate call is not something that Tiamat even considers. The healer’s tender heart is already beckoning her forward, leaping anxiously against her ribs and bidding her legs to move, to follow her soul’s purpose in this wild, unpredictable world—to mend.

Turning her head towards her companion, Tiamat whickers to the little whale. Nimue, who had settled quite comfortably among the cold, soft snow, pokes her head up at the sound of her bondmate’s invitation. Already the ocean maiden has begun to follow the stranger’s cry. Huffing a few stray flakes from her blowhole, the young Leviathan suddenly surges forward, dipping in and out of the snow like she would the waves of the sea, until she is suddenly bounding past the blue mare. A small grin briefly shadows Tiamat’s lips at her companion’s antics, though the looming sense of duty is not forgotten. Picking up her stride into a brisk canter, the ocean pair moves quickly towards the nearby mountains.

Every step jars her muscles, which usually wouldn’t be an issue, but recent events leave the Mender wincing. The four parallel gouges along her right cheek and neck are agitated with every movement, her satin skin tearing fragile scabs apart, and it isn’t long before pinpricks of red ooze from underneath the salve she had applied earlier that day. (Why, you ask, would a healer—with healing magic—suffer such pain willingly?) In a world that has been so horribly torn apart, and with the monster’s betrayal looming ominously over their heads, these are wounds that Tiamat wears dutifully. Whether it be as a self-inflicted punishment for reveling in such hateful emotions, or as a reminder of what that barbarian had done, she knows she must weather these injuries on her own.

Not for the first time, she feels Nimue’s mournful disagreement through their bond, and again, it does little to change Tiamat’s mind. Still, she  reaches over to brush the whale’s side briefly, hoping to offer comfort to the young Leviathan, who is as equally shaken as she is by these harrowing misfortunes.

(Who can they trust?)

Rather than put herself on that train of thought again, the sea maiden forces her focus on the mountain path. Having lived for several years now among the steep slopes of the Aurora Basin, she manages to climb the stony passage with relative ease. Cloven toes pick daintily over the frozen rocks, her slender body leaning instinctively forward, while the length of her lion tail sways to help her balance. Fortunately, it isn’t long before two figures come into sight. “Hello?” Tiamat calls out to them, picking up her pace as best as she can. “Oh—! You poor dear,” she croons when she notices the winged mare, and the blood that streaks across one side of her pretty face.

“My name is Tiamat, I’m a Time Mender for the Aurora Basin, a healer—would you let me help you?” There is an honest and friendly smile on her lips, and an earnest shine in her eyes. Knowing that shock is not uncommon among those who are injured (she remembers this well as the gouges sting along her neck), Tiamat continues with easy conversation. “You have a fine young man here; it can get cold so quick!” She laughs as she shakes her head, smiling encouragingly at the young stallion. “Where are you two travelling to?”


notes; Sorry it's kinda rambly :3
“Speech.”