kisses

from the

deep

The Ocean’s Light accepts the stallion’s greeting with a smile resting on her lips, one of her dainty ears trained to the side while his blue dragon focuses on her companion. Nimue eyes the reptilian creature shyly, chirping and crooning a whistle every now and then. She floats from one side of the sea mare to the other, diving underneath the curve of her stomach while she watches the other companion. The Leviathan is distracted, too focused on what Wessex had whispered to her moments before, the thrill of excitement and anticipation coursing through her little body.

‘Wes-sex says—other whale!’

The soprano of Nimue’s childlike voice rings happily through Tiamat’s mind, and the Lady can’t help but cast a silent, excited, and questioning glance to her Corporal—nearly as enthusiastic as her companion to hear news of this other Leviathan. Nimue has not admitted anything, because she adores many of the companions that she has met, but the sea mare has sensed the orca’s lonely questioning through their connection.

Clearing her throat, Tiamat tries to not let herself become too distracted now, focusing again on Astarot while he continues. A smile brightens her features, and she tosses her head in joyful approval. “Of course, congratulations on your promotion!” She applauds him happily, very much biased in his choice of career, although she would be glad for him with whatever path he chose. His quest to learn about plants is not strange in the slightest—she remembers, years ago, when she had no magic to wield and relied solely on the use of herbs. She had worked hard to gain knowledge…and she’s still learning!

With her expression softening, Tiamat turns her attention to the stallion’s dragon. “Zafir, that’s very pretty,” she croons, her words complemented by a high-pitched chirp from Nimue. The mare chuckles to herself, shaking her head, and catching the Mender’s arrival in the corner of her eye as she does so. “Lena!” She greets the bay mare fondly, pleased to see her here.

“That was very nice of you to bring us herbs, Astarot,” Tiamat says when she looks back to the dunskin man, her natural grin widening once more. “I have to say, you’re in good hands. Lena here is a very skilled healer—she was my mentor,” looking briefly to the brown Mender, she casts her a cheering wink, truly awed by her talent. After all, it was Lena who had brought her to the Basin all those years ago; where would she be, who would she be, without her dear friend? Shifting the angle of her body, the Ocean’s Light gestures to Astarot, “Do you want to come see our greenhouse?”

“Speech.”