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09-03-2015, 05:07 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-03-2015, 05:08 AM by Tiamat.
Edit Reason: fixing tags
)
Perhaps it is her childlike innocence, the veil over her eyes and mind that can only perceive the good and just in this world, but the ocean mare’s heart does not stutter and blister like the other mares’ with the stallion’s flirting. The words are compliments in her ears—a flourishing, if not a bit extravagant, bit of praise—and in all honesty, she couldn’t agree more with him (even if their intentions are far from parallel, as she would like to think). Tiamat thoroughly enjoys the company of the bay mare, and cherishes her tutoring. To assume that others would feel the same only makes sense.
Even so, the Time Mender’s discomfort—the lowering of her eyes, the stiffening of her shoulders, and the constriction of her lips—is something that the ocean mare does not miss. Fluted ears prick forward before shifting backwards in her moment of confusion, the sway of her stride faltering for the briefest of seconds as she hesitates, white eyes flickering between the bay mare and the mahogany-shaded stallion. Tiamat does not understand why Lena would be so bothered—unaware of the affection that already blooms within her breast, unaware of the intentions such words might bring—but she doesn’t need explanations for her heart to go out to her friend.
Casting a fleeting grin to the stallion (always wanting everyone to be happy, and not wishing to him to feel shunned), the blue mare then focuses on the bay. Trotting easily to her side, Tiamat touches her shoulder gently, her white eyes warm and without question. Lena doesn’t need to explain herself, of course, but the ocean mare wants her to know that she is not alone—with whatever might have troubled her, Tiamat would want nothing but to remedy it.
Exhaling from her nostrils, the ocean mare shifts her attention to the grasses and herbs that lay in abundance around them, flourishing with the revival of Birdsong. “There so many of them,” she laughs lightly, her unpracticed eye unable to pick out every single one from the others. She is still very much in the learning process, but her inexperience does little to dampen her excitement. Tiamat craves knowledge—to take the time and learn, to study about everything that healing (among other things) has to offer, doesn’t bother her in the slightest.
It is the movement of Imogen that ultimately draws Tiamat’s attention away from the grasses (having perceived the earlier coughing as one of their own) and with her leonine tail flicking out behind her, she follows Lena to the shadow of trees. What she sees, is…well—a plant-thing sitting (comfortably, I might add) astride the back of a wolf—is one thing that she did not expect to see. Her eyes light in wonder and her lips part, words bubbling uninhibited in her excitement. “What are you?” The question is not blurted out in accusation or disgust, but of interest and amazement. This—plant?—is like nothing she has ever seen before. And then, as if remembering herself, she adds, “I’m Tiamat.” Bowing her dainty head as her eyes peer curiously at the creature.
“Speech.”
Even so, the Time Mender’s discomfort—the lowering of her eyes, the stiffening of her shoulders, and the constriction of her lips—is something that the ocean mare does not miss. Fluted ears prick forward before shifting backwards in her moment of confusion, the sway of her stride faltering for the briefest of seconds as she hesitates, white eyes flickering between the bay mare and the mahogany-shaded stallion. Tiamat does not understand why Lena would be so bothered—unaware of the affection that already blooms within her breast, unaware of the intentions such words might bring—but she doesn’t need explanations for her heart to go out to her friend.
Casting a fleeting grin to the stallion (always wanting everyone to be happy, and not wishing to him to feel shunned), the blue mare then focuses on the bay. Trotting easily to her side, Tiamat touches her shoulder gently, her white eyes warm and without question. Lena doesn’t need to explain herself, of course, but the ocean mare wants her to know that she is not alone—with whatever might have troubled her, Tiamat would want nothing but to remedy it.
Exhaling from her nostrils, the ocean mare shifts her attention to the grasses and herbs that lay in abundance around them, flourishing with the revival of Birdsong. “There so many of them,” she laughs lightly, her unpracticed eye unable to pick out every single one from the others. She is still very much in the learning process, but her inexperience does little to dampen her excitement. Tiamat craves knowledge—to take the time and learn, to study about everything that healing (among other things) has to offer, doesn’t bother her in the slightest.
It is the movement of Imogen that ultimately draws Tiamat’s attention away from the grasses (having perceived the earlier coughing as one of their own) and with her leonine tail flicking out behind her, she follows Lena to the shadow of trees. What she sees, is…well—a plant-thing sitting (comfortably, I might add) astride the back of a wolf—is one thing that she did not expect to see. Her eyes light in wonder and her lips part, words bubbling uninhibited in her excitement. “What are you?” The question is not blurted out in accusation or disgust, but of interest and amazement. This—plant?—is like nothing she has ever seen before. And then, as if remembering herself, she adds, “I’m Tiamat.” Bowing her dainty head as her eyes peer curiously at the creature.
“Speech.”
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
magic & force are permitted.
