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07-23-2015, 07:39 PM
From what the ocean mare is able to decipher from Wicka’s initial silence, she seems quite taken with the Aurora Basin—just as Tiamat had been when she had first arrived. She can still remember, memories and images swirling in her mind’s eye, the very day that the brown mare had brought her to these snowy mountains, so glorious and merciful in their splendor. That had been a pivotal and changing moment in her life—she had come home—and it is one that she is sure she will never forget. To be able to give Wicka the same thing, a sense of security and a sense of family, a place where she can be accepted and belong, gives her a buoyant happiness that swells and blooms within her. Breathing sighing, jubilant breaths from the soft skin of her nostrils, Tiamat’s white eyes shift from the grand beauty of her home—their home now, how exciting!—and back to the pearly white mare at her side, dainty ears tilting forward and velvet lips curving in bashful delight with her friend’s question. “I am a Scourge,” the ocean mare’s smile broadens with a righteous, unadulterated sense of pride—a pride of hope and benevolence, an optimism to heal and mend others, to offer aid and be the beacon of light amidst the darkness that wrecks across the world, blind to her innocent eye. Her passions are simple, she thinks. Only to have the knowledge and abilities to help, mend, and heal. “I am a healer, more simply,” the blue unicorn continues, explaining to her new friend with enthusiasm twinkling in her eyes, “or, going to be—I’m in training. The Time Menders are the true healers of the Aurora Basin.” Tiamat speaks with a reverent admiration, in awe of those gifted powers directly from their God of the Spark, the magic embedded in the very sinews of their bodies to mend the wounds and aches of others. Perhaps one day, she will be so blessed, but she still has much to learn. Shifting her weight and looking to Wicka with bright eyes that glisten in the glowing rays of the approaching dusk, she wonders what path she will choose to follow. “In addition to the creators and healers, there are also the soldiers, spies, wise ones—who communicate with the Gods—and of course, our leaders. Each play a different role in the herd and all are important,” Tiamat nods in confirmation to herself, smiling. It reminds her of a clock—surely one piece cannot function without the other—and although she is not very diplomatic herself, or really knows much about government at all, surely these fundamental principles are not hard to grasp. It’s part of being a family. Exhaling in a billowing white plume, Tiamat’s wandering eyes catch a figure in the distance—a shadow approaching them. She does not know her Lord very well—either of them, or her Lady—and has yet to communicate with him directly since her return, but she is eager to. Still, some small part of her is involuntarily afraid. He is her leader, he demands her respect, but he is like the shadows—dark, distant, and shifting. He is death, if the rumors prove true. But the benevolence of her heart is far too pure to be shaken by simple, wafting words, and she nearly pities him for his isolation—after all, the leader of her home, her kind and wonderful home, must be just as generous and grand. “My Lord,” Tiamat’s slender neck arches as she bows her head in respect to him, her eyes glancing bashfully beneath her long lashes. She allows Wicka to introduce herself then, thinking that it will be good for her to do so, before reaching forward again with her own voice, still bright despite its reverence to her superior. “We have only just returned from the Threshold, I was explaining to her the various ranks in our herd,” the mare’s white eyes trail from the dark to the light, resting again on her newly found friend with a smile, “Is there a particular rank, or ranks, that interests you?” tag;; @[Wicka] & @[Deimos] “Speech.” |
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
