I had felt pain before, but nothing so physical. My heaving and hacking lead way to completely missing my last attempts at a kind of salvation, closing my eyes as I felt my weight shift as I landed on the cold, hard earth beneath me. I crumpled like a piece of paper, crimson blood mixing with pure ivory snow. My ears stuck at this point to my skull as I crashed down into the earth, legs pushing into my bleeding chest causing a snort to escape my pained lungs. And with that, my heavy head slipped onto the ground. I felt motionless, paralyzed, pained.

I watched the painted stallion before me, a warrior, a victor. Instead of him parading his win around my bleeding body, he seemed to grow worried. My heart reached for him. I wanted him to save me from this life I had created for myself, becoming a failure in more ways than one. Blue eyes watched the shadows on the ground as he began to move, closer to me. 'So he did care.' I thought to myself, nearly humbled if it werent for another cough that racked through my body. I swiveled my head on the ground, doing my best to push the snow further and closer to my chest. The icy chill was a stark comparison to the pulsating heat that radiated from my chest.

And then I felt him. My skin twitching with his touch as he gently rested his head on my withers. I closed my eyes, embracing the gentle warmth that radiated from the stag. I swished my tail lightly, bringing it closer to my body to try and trap the warmth that came from the two of us. "Come closer, Ashamin." I spoke to him delicately. Hoping that perhaps he would lay with me and not leave me out here in the cold. I wanted him closer, perhaps to feel his heartbeat and know that I would be okay in the end. Right now I carried a broken spirit, a broken heart, and now the signs of a broken body. I needed something or someone to be my glue. And I hoped it was the Haruspex.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

Everything about the moment was warm. Ashamin lowered himself to the earth as she asked him to, but even as he did it felt strange. It felt wrong. He was filled with energy, he needed to stand. He needed to run, to do something he didn't know how to, for he was nothing but bruised and everything but weak. He was stronger now than he had ever been, and he had triumphed.

The injury that had come to Rexanna had not been so powerfully intended. There had been no malice in the blows. But now that they were over, now... Ashamin struggled to put together the pieces of why their spar had ended how it had. Why it had even begun.

What exactly had made him suggest they step out into the cold winds to fight? They lay there now, exposed and alone. Lochan had slipped away, sensing somehow that this was not a moment in which he should take part.

Rexanna had come to Ashamin for advice. Advice on how to deal with all those she loved, all those other than he. And he had listened with a hollow heart, doling out formulaic advice for her benefit, her sake. But now he wanted to crush that version of him, the one who had lied so readily, so much, without even realizing.

Their bodies were so close that Ashamin could feel her heartbeat even without the aid of his magic. They were pressed together, but for a different reason that combat tactics. There was something about being close to the mare that the haruspex needed, then.

Something about it that he'd wanted, in her and others, for a very long time.

The part of him that should have apologized for the hurt he had caused her assumed she knew, assumed that such care went without saying. When she coughed his moved his face to press his nose to hers, to nudge carefully the bloody stain on her chest and breathe in the scent. He did not enjoy the blood, he did not enjoy the hurt. But under that, there was the pure smell of Rexanna, and a smell more deep and feral than he had ever before noticed.

His skin prickled with a strange excitement. This was what he wanted. Closeness. Ashamin had denied himself that pleasure, had assumed it was not something he deserved, not something it was within his rights to ask for. But he knew, now, that he could ask. He was strong. He had won. He had proven himself.

Ashamin placed his own heartbeat in Rexanna's chest, its skittering tempo breaking and cresting in uneven jumps as his breath caught over and over. Every time he breathed her in, every time he moved his face against her, he felt it and wondered if she did too.

"Rexanna..." Ashamin breathed her name, his voice wavering. Was this nervousness, or something else?

"...let me help. I can--" he paused, reconsidered. "We can..."

What? What, exactly, could they do? And was it, oh God was it, anything like what he wanted?

"Rexanna, I want you to get up."

His voice was gentle but firm--guiding, as if he were not the one who needed to be led. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know how or even, exactly, why. Was it that she was beautiful, that she was strong? Or was it that she was weak, that she needed him now in a real, passionate and connected way that she hadn't when she'd come to him before their spar? Or was it that the moment he had first seen Rexanna, in his very first day in the Aurora Basin, his own body had reacted in a way so visceral and violent--so like this spar--that he could not forget its instinct?

"As the mare approached from the distance, Ashamin felt his heart lurch." That was how his understanding of Rexanna had begun, and perhaps he had forced his heart into something steady, something quiet that would leave his mind to rest when she came to him with problems of love and care for so many others in ways Ashamin had given up hope on ever being thought of. Yes, perhaps that was it. So long thinking he was not worth her, Ashamin had forgotten the lurching and made Rexanna live in the shadows of his heart.

He nosed her gently, his magic unconsciously reaching out to slow her heart with power he did not yet know he had and perhaps numbing the pain. "Rexanna, come closer," he begged in a whisper.

But they were already as close as he knew how to be.

""

I felt more at ease as the Haruspex moved closer to me, laying beside me. There was almost something different about this moment, as if a switch had been pressed in his brain. Once so bloodthirsty, now so tender. I wanted to hold onto this moment and enjoy it, but before I had the time to, the warmth between our bodies grew stronger. His heartbeat vibrating against my skin as my chest began to stop bleeding. I moved my head, hovering it across the ground and leaned into him slightly. He pressed his nose into mine, gently, caring, and dare I say, loving. I allowed him what he wanted in seeing my wounds, and then something strange happened.

My heartbeat was different all of a sudden, full of a primal instinct that i had remembered having from back home. It flooded memories of escaping the soldiers that came searching for me and how I had seduced them instead. That heartbeat, the art of pleasure, the bouncing boundries of which a true heart never knew. Patterns of irregularity that vibrated in my being seemed almost enlightening. And for a moment I completely forgot about my wounds. I turned my head to him, blue eyes gazing up at the painted stag who I called my friend with an almost new light. I reached for his neck briefly, wishing to run my velveteen muzzle across his throat tenderly.

"Rexanna... let me help, I can - We can..." I watched him trying to figure out just what the Haruspex planned on saying. When I came for advice that day, I hadn't expected things to go this way, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't something I didn't need. "Rexanna, I want you to get up." He seemed to speak to me in that authorative voice he held so beautifully. With that, I pushed myself away from him. Legs stretching out across the snow ever so slowly. Aching pain swarmed up from my knees, but I knew he was right. We needed this. Perhaps more than he could imagine.

I pulled myself up slowly, chest aching and quick breaths escaping my lungs from the pain of the movement, but at last I was standing. I flicked my tail to him, ears perked and watching him. My heartbeat slowing with an overcoming feeling of need. That was when I knew that I needed the Haruspex. Perhaps in a way that would be frowned upon, but I needed him.

Blue eyes scanned over him for mere moments before I lifted my head to him, golden crown dancing with the golden chains that he had nearly ripped from my head in the battle. I smiled to him as he pleaded me to come closer, and I couldn't help but to agree. "Thank you..." I whispered to him, moving my head to where it was level with his before pushing forward to run my lips across his cheekbone, hoping to delicately trace the defined features that the stag held so well. The pain I felt began to numb, from either Ashamin or the ice, I was unsure. But for that I was thankful. "Let's make a story to remember, my Haruspex." My once chiming and timid voice had grown more lustrious toward the stag. If my sudden change in heartbeat told me one thing, we both needed this. And what a story that would be; a creature with the divine, succumbed by the temptress in her weakest hour.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

Later, Ashamin would think back on this moment and, absent from the heat of passion, he would regret not taking the thief to a healer first. But when he asked her to stand, she stood. When he breathed, when he felt her heart, he understood that she was offering him no resistance. This was a moment where the two of them had a mutual understanding: whether this was right, whether it was smart, this was exactly what they both needed. He didn't think of what she had come to him for, didn't think of all those she already loved, already felt this way for. It didn't occur to him that perhaps he was not special, that perhaps this was nothing more to her than an accident. To think that would ruin his spirit, his spirit that overflowed now with confidence that it had taken him so long to gather. He had changed so much: this was to be a part of that change, even if he didn't understand how much.

She moved from him and he followed her lead, standing slow, awkward. But he wasn't shy, wasn't small, wasn't helpless. He could be strong. He had shown her, he would show her again. His own heart beat with rising excitement, his body quivered with expectation. This, whatever it was, was happening. Never had Ashamin experienced such a pleasure or thrill, never before had he felt such a primal rush. All to him were friends, loves of a kind but never like this. No, this was a new interaction, a new understanding, of who he could be in relation to others.

It hurt as the space between them appeared again; Ashamin could do nothing but close its gap, following that warmth. And when she spoke her voice was like honey, its every tone echoing over the cold and bringing with it golden comfort. My Haruspex, she called him. Hers. He was not a pawn of the herd, not a an empty dispenser, he was hers.

He stepped closer, leaving nothing between them. This was a night to remember. Softly, he whispered: "I won't ever forget, my thief."


""

It might not have been the smartest thing for me to do, but passion often overcame common sense. I felt for the stag, remembering him from the time I had first met him. Reminded of how he stuttered when he spoke to me, how he seemed to be nervous, small, frail. My, how he had become everything but those things. I saw him as he was now, strong, proven, proud. I wished that I perhaps could portray the same from my first steps within the Basin. I hadn't managed it well in the spar, but at least it wasn't my title. I never really fought, didn't need to. However, when it came to having my first fight - basically in my entire short life - I realized that Ashamin was the best candidate. The one that made me question myself, but was also there to pick up the pieces off the ground.

When the event was over, I felt my chest begin to burn again. The lust overwhelming in preventing me to feel the pain I had gathered from the spar. And as it died, the pain returned, salty sweat finding its way into my open wound. I turned my head to the painted stag, offering him a smile. "Thank you Ashamin." I breathlessly whispered to him before glancing over the land from the Haruspex's home. "I think I should see a healer now." I muttered, blue eyes glancing back to the stag, golden chains shimmering in the dancing lights of the night sky. Painting the two of us in the colors of the ocean, shadowed in darkness. It was at this point that I turned to him, reaching for him, hoping to embrace the buck around his neck gently. The small smile stayed on my face as I thought of the Haruspex and how far we had just came together. Perhaps we both had things we needed to learn.

"You're welcome to join me if you'd like. I'm not exactly sure where the healer's caves are." I mentioned, pulling away from him. Blue eyes scanning over his face in the hopes to catch his gaze and be sure that the actions we had just done had been something he was looking for. I wondered what had made him that way, or what caused it. It never struck me to think that perhaps he had always thought that way, but it was something that would have definitely made sense.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

Ashamin pulled away from her and felt different. His sides heaved, his coat was soaked in sweat, but this was not the same exertion of battle. Was there anything tender in the moments, still? Was it anything but instinct?

When her body moved from hers, when her blue eyes caught his own, he felt fear. Something rooting itself in the pit of his stomach and heart, something dangerous, something that would grow. How had that felt, to her? What had it meant? He moved to touch her, to press his nose to her cheek as he did so many others, and exhaled softly. Her scent was too strong for him to risk breathing it in again.

Something, something had overtaken them both.

Her mention of a healer snapped him back to reality. He saw her wounds, remembered the motion that had overtaken them first: the spar. How had they ended up here? No, he couldn't dwell. She needed a healer, she was bleeding all over the place for goodness sakes.

The haruspex wouldn't let her wander alone, or at all, like this. "Don't stress yourself, you need to rest," he said gently, responsibly, as he caught his breath and refocused his mind. "Lochan--" he turned to the cerndyr, cast him away with a nod of his head, watching as the companion went "--will find a healer for you. I'll stay here with you, I'll hold you up."

And it was true, he would. He'd do all he could to keep her standing strong.



""

Look to love, you may dream—hope is home, and the heart is free.

A shallow trail of hoof prints marks the path of the ocean mare; from her little cave she had wandered, too excited to rest just yet. Having reached the frosty borders of the unfreezing lake, she had watched the sunset as it painted vibrant colors across the sky, her mother giving a final, glorious farewell before releasing the stage to her sister stars. It is here where she stands alone now, relaxing at the snowy banks with her bright eyes turned upwards. The mare’s gaze reflects her sisters’ glistening light, and she feels as though she can hear them—by the cool breeze that whistles gently through the crevices in her horn, by the calm sighing of the darkness, and by the brilliant lights that play in the water’s reflection—she can hear them.

Peacefully, she breathes with nature, the beat of her heart echoing the frozen earth beneath her hooves. Tiamat shivers once from the autumn chill, her satin coat not quite acclimated to mountain climates, but she pays it no mind. She is home—at last, she is home. While the merry adventures of her heart might call her across all the valleys and ranges of Helovia, the blue mare knows that no place will accept her as this one has, will not ignite in her soul a warmth and peace that chases away any physical cold. She is home.

Perhaps she would have spent all night like this—enjoying the feel of the Basin, her mind swathed in the sweet comforts of belonging—but fate has other plans for these late hours. Dainty ears rotate to cup the muffled sounds of someone approaching, and Tiamat glances around. The young dark cerndyr is not difficult to spy against the pristine backdrop of snow, immediately recognizable by the peculiar white eye that rests on his brow. “Hello, Lochan,” the mare smiles brightly, angling to face the new arrival, “where is Ashamin?”

White eyes look for the painted stallion, fear suddenly pricking in her heart when he cannot be found. From what little information she knows about bonded companions, they don’t usually spend much time apart, unless it is necessary—likely an emergency. This is the possibility that springs first into the ocean mare’s mind. Perhaps she is a little bit paranoid when it comes to her dear painted friend, but she almost lost him once, and it had destroyed her—she couldn’t bear to lose him again. So she follows Lochan without question, trying to ignore the sudden pounding in her ears, the beating in her chest, focusing instead on the path of the shadowy cerndyr.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take them long to reach their destination—but while her heart sings when she sees Ashamin standing, it plummets again when she notices the bloody mess of his company. The golden mare is familiar, but Tiamat can’t recall her name. Managing a sincere smile for them both, the ocean mare nods to her friend, but her healer’s heart calls her quickly to the gilded mare. “My name is Tiamat, I’m a healer,” her smile wilts to something more tender, their unfamiliarity with each other only a trivial detail to the blue mare, her geniality extending to everyone.

“You two seem to have had quite the tussle,” she chuckles gently, casting a short, teasing glance to Ashamin. Tiamat doesn’t understand fighting, or sparring, or battle—or really anything to do with violence. It is a hateful and merciless thing, but knowing that she can’t very well stop them, she intends to do all she can to patch up the unlucky ones.

Turning to the string of herbs entwined in her hair, she first picks out a sprig of clove, mashing it under her hoof before applying it gently to the mare’s punctured chest. “This will help numb the pain,” the blue mare explains, working quickly before turning to grasp more herbs. She finds yarrow, which will help the clotting, and all-heal, which will prevent infection. Making a salve of the two, she applies it again to the wound, before snatching a final sprig of yarrow and handing it to the golden mare. “Eat this; it’s bitter, but it will help slow the bleeding. And here—” Tiamat picks out a handful of Echinacea flowers “—with a wound like that, you’ll want to keep your immunity strong; this will help, just eat them over the next few days. You could probably benefit from some too!” She eyes Ashamin, laughing airily.

Perhaps all is well, now.


notes; Tia: -blissfully oblivious- XDD
“Speech.”

Feeling a rush from the lust that had overtaken us both, I felt almost revitalized. Regardless if I was bleeding everywhere, I figured I could have traveled to find a healer myself, but he refused. And I wasn't going to argue with him for his. I nodded to him, a smile sticking to my face ever so gently. I watched as he spoke to his companion, wondering what it was like through the bond the two had for Ashamin to have done such an act. I wasn't sure if he had done it before or not, but regardless, it felt like a release.

Blue eyes looked to him as I shifted my weight, listening to his gentle and calming voice to soothe the pain I felt beating from my chest once again. My breathing was still ever so slightly heavy from the acts we had taken a part in, as well as from the pain. I stepped toward him, hoping to press my nose gently into the side of his neck. Affectionately, lovingly. I loved Ashamin. Just not how I loved Tembovu. I loved him as a friend and I hoped that he might have felt the same. If not now, then eventually. He was one of my best friends, I couldn't lose him to love. Nor to himself.

It didn't take long until the little cerndyr returned with the blue mare I had seen at the last meeting from Ashamin. I couldn't remember her name, but I did remember the chime in her voice and the absolute happiness to help when it came to events. I turned my body to her, standing beside Ashamin. My breathing had gotten slightly better but it was still full of pain and exhaustion. She said her name was Tiamat and that she was a healer and I nodded to her. "Rexanna. Thank you for coming." I spoke to her gently, offering her a small pained smile.

As the ocean mare continued, she spoke of our battle and I nodded to her. I shot a glance toward Ashamin, wondering if Tiamat would know of the acts we had just done, or if she was being polite and ignoring the entirety of it. Either way, my gaze returned to the ocean mare as she pressed something into my chest. At first I felt a bit of a sting but then nothing. My eyes widened slightly at the work the mare was doing for me and I felt greatful for her to be here and so gentle. I seemed to watch her in awe as she mended my wounds, nodding numbly to her words of eating the plant she handed me. I reached for it with my lips before sucking it down as quickly as I could. The bitter taste landing in my mouth caused a small grim look to land on my face. "Oh, you weren't kidding. Wow." I smiled to her, shaking my head slightly. I then watched as she pulled out a bundle of flowers, extending my head to her slowly to grab a few of them to store away to do as she said. "I surely hope these taste better if I'm supposed to be eating them that often." The smile stuck to my face, but I turned my head to my Haruspex as Tiamat's laugh filled the air.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

Leave it to Tiamat to come in and save the day. The haruspex didn't have to wait long before she showed up, Lochan leading her to them, she with herbs at the ready. Ashamin watched with the same dumbstruck awe as the blue mare went about her business with skill. Even without magic, Tiamat did a lot for the herd; Ashamin respected that.

As he watched her, either oblivious to what felt obvious to him (caged in this burning body,) or incredibly polite, he found in her a different understanding of pain that the one he had. Ashamin knew pain as something that ruined the body and mind, as something all consuming and inevitably paired with love. Nothing that one loved could go long without causing pain.

But Tiamat... she saw pain as something you could fix. Everything had the potential to be healed, and perhaps beneath her steady and tender touch it could be. Ashamin watched in admiration, felt his heart swell up with something like pride for his dear friend. The two of them had been through a lot together, in dreams and in their waking hours; he was glad to have her here now.

The blue mare brought lightheartedness to Rexanna, too. Her positivity was contagious. Even he found himself smiling--letting out a nicker of happiness. Tiamat seemed to erase the troubles of their spar, seemed to make them all forget about the pain.
"Thank you, Tiamat." Ashamin said to her with a smile and an extension of his cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be sure she doesn't spit the stuff out," he joked with a look back to Rexanna.

But wait... how did they get here?

""

Look to love, you may dream—hope is home, and the heart is free.

Rexanna has no need to worry about Tiamat figuring out their beautiful little secret. The fact of Rexanna’s and Ashamin’s unspeakable acts remains a complete and blissful mystery to the ocean mare. There is no way that she would have assumed it of them, especially with the two of them battered with wounds from their recent spar—and even if she did happen to have any inkling as to what had happened, she wouldn’t dream of saying anything (even if a blush and bashful giggle would escape from sheepish lips). As it is, she is still wonderfully oblivious, completely consumed with her duties as she works nimbly with the herbs.

She is delighted with how willingly and humbly the golden mare accepts her assistance. Tiamat does not consider herself really strong, or even particularly spectacular in any way—they are all a part of nature’s magnificent circle, no matter how small, each holding a piece of the clockwork that helps the world go round—and it swells her gentle heart with joy to feel needed. Like she has made a difference. This herd is her home, her family; she loves them unconditionally, and would do just about anything for them.

Stepping back from the other mare, she smiles at her work, the smile broadening sympathetically when Rexanna’s face twists with the bitterness of the herb. “You’ll probably want to have something sweet close by, for after,” the blue mare’s laughter chimes again before she sifts once more through her hair, snagging a small peppermint leaf and handing it to Rexanna, “Here’s this, to help now.” Her pale eyes are gentle, the length of her leonine tail sweeping over the snow behind her before she hears the Haruspex’s voice, and she looks to him with tulip-shaped ears pressing forward.

“Thank you, Ashamin,” she smiles appreciatively at him, sure that he will keep his word, and look after their herd mate when she cannot. Tiamat touches her cheek to the stallion’s, breathing in the comfort of his familiar scent and radiating warmth, before turning to the golden mare and offering a velvet muzzle in the same gesture. Ashamin is one of her dearest friends, she cherishes him, and this lovely Rexanna is already accepted with all the affection and kindness of her uninhibited heart.

Sighing with peaceful, unburdened contentment, the ocean mare steps back again, returning her attention to the painted stallion. Grasping more of the Echinacea flowers in her lips, she offers them to him with a hopeful grin, “Here’s some for you too—I think they’ll do you some good.” Not-so-absentmindedly she wonders if Ashamin will accept the healing herbs. She remembers that night in the cave, when he had pushed them away despite his injuries—Lochan had taken them then, ever watchful of his bonded. An affectionate glance is cast to the dark cerndyr, so very proud of him, even if she hopes he won’t have to take them again.


notes; Sorry for your wait!
“Speech.”

As the mare worked me over, Ashamin thanked her. It was clear to me that these two had a rather close and friendly relationship, but it was nothing for me to be jealous of. As bad as it sounded, I ended up getting what I wanted from Ashamin, nothing more attached to it like romantic love. I was a jealous soul, a habit and way of thinking that I couldn’t get rid of or get over it. Thankfully for me, no matter who Ashamin knew or anything he did, I more than likely wouldn’t lose sleep over it. As his voice rang in my ears again, I shot him a glance, catching his eye with a small laugh.

“Ah, please do. I can be quite rebellious, you know.” I shot a wink to Ashamin before turning my gaze on the ocean mare as she spoke again. She offered me a peppermint leaf and I took it gratefully. “I guess it’s a great thing that Johnny lives in the Basin, then.” I couldn’t help but to laugh once more, blue eyes watching her as she reached to show her affection to Ashamin and then to me. I took it happily, brushing my cheek against hers, pleased that the healing had started to work and the pain I felt so harsh previously had become almost nonexistent now.

She then spoke to Ashamin, my eyes following and studying the painted stag. Curious on if he would take it after he mentioned that he had herbs back in his cave. Did he plan on using the ones he already possessed or would he deny her request? Granted he wasn’t as hurt as I was, but I wanted him to feel the pain of having to eat those horrible tasting plants as well. I reached my nose over to him, pressing my velvet muzzle into his neck gently. “Come on Ashamin, if you’re going to make sure that I take them, don’t think I’ll let you slip out of doing it as well.” I resulted in a smile to the Haruspex, hoping that he would take them as well if nothing more but the pure joy in seeing his reaction to the horrible tasting plants.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

His last thought haunted him: how did they get here?

It had been a tumultuous day. Ashamin had felt his heart locked up then burning with competition, then rage, then passion then, yes, sex. And now embarrassment, now pride, now friendship? He barely heard Tiamat's next words, blindly accepted her offering between his lips, and stared at Rexanna. What was she feeling, was she as lost as he was? They had shared everything in what must have been less than an hour. The sun had barely budged in the sky.

How had they gotten here?

When he returned to the world form his musings, Rexanna was insisting he also partake in the healing herbs. Had he been able he would have refused them outright, insisted he was fine or at least played it off as taking them later, but with them already in his mouth he could only chew and swallow stupidly. "Of course," he said with his eyes stuck on Rexanna. "Thank you for these Tiamat."

I need these, he told himself as he swallowed the bitter taste with tired reluctance. I need something to settle my stomach, something to settle my mind. His white tail lashed like a captured snake as the sour traces of leaves slid down his throat. How was this supposed to settle his stomach, how was this supposed to ease the pain? But fine, he would trust Tiamat and Rexanna. He couldn't deny the good the blue mare had done for him, all the times she'd patched him up.

"Well, I think we all might need some rest now," Ashamin suggested with a turn of his features back to the depths of his cave. He wanted to talk to Rexanna more, maybe, but he wasn't sure he had it in him and he definitely couldn't with Tiamat around. Did he need to say more, or had that already been the wrong thing to say?


""

Look to love, you may dream—hope is home, and the heart is free.

When the painted Haruspex takes the herbs from her lips, the ocean mare smiles, pleased that he has not refused them again. Her gaze flickers to the golden mare when she speaks, a blue ear tilting forward as she also encourages the stallion to partake of the herbs, teasing him gently as she does so. A light, tinkling chime of laughter floats from the young mare’s tongue. She knows that the Echinacea flowers aren’t the sweetest of remedies, but they will do their wounded bodies good, which will ease the healer’s tender heart.

Tipping her curved horn in a single nod, she accepts Ashamin’s modest gratitude with unassuming grace. “Of course, my friend,” the smile on Tiamat’s lips broadens softly. She appreciates his thankfulness, and would want nothing else from him, but ultimately it is unneeded. Healing, mending, and helping—these are all things that are almost unconscious for the ocean mare. She just does them, without a second thought, without asking for anything in return. If she could have it her way, Tiamat would be able to help everyone that might be in need, but she knows that this is a feat that is nigh impossible, so she does what little she can.

She breathes a quiet sigh when the Haruspex mentions rest, her white eyes briefly following his when he glances back to his cave. “Yes, I think you’re right. Please, let me know if I can do anything else for you,” Tiamat looks to both of them, smiling kindly and hoping that they will not hesitate to seek her out. Reaching out first to Rexanna, and then to Ashamin, she offers her muzzle in a warm farewell, eyes sparkling beneath the dim light. “Goodnight,” she murmurs, her long tail swaying happily before she turns. Following the tracks she had left, she wanders beneath her sister stars, leaving only good wishes behind her.


“Speech.”

Ashamin kept his eyes on me and the most I could do was just offer an encouraging smile to the painted stallion. He spoke to Tiamat and I silent watched as he took the herbs and swallowed them without a cringe at all. Perhaps he was used to taking these, then. It had been the first time I had ever tried any of those leaves, and yet ironically something I hoped I’d never have to try again. Tiamat responded to Ashamin, so I turned my head to nod to her in a thank you as well.

A night that had been so full of injury had succumbed to such a pleasant experience that even I couldn't complain in the results of my first spar. I wasn't a fighter, that much I knew. But in the end I could always rely on the lust that unfortunately many stallions carried for me and my golden pelt. I couldn't get away from it in the end, so instead I just embraced it. The results sometimes being a bit unwelcome. But all's fair in love and war. Right?

A few moments later Ashamin had suggested going to rest, and my exhausted joints and mind couldn’t agree more. Thankfully I hardly felt any more pain from the wounds inflicted upon me from Ashamin, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make my way home to my cave. I muttered a gentle “Thank you, goodnight Tiamat!” before turning my body to face Ashamin and his cave. The blue mare began to leave and I let my soft gaze land on the painted stag. “Would you mind if I rested here tonight?” I questioned gently, deep down hoping that he wouldn’t be able to turn me away. Not after tonight.

"Talk."

— got to sleep,

spent the whole night running.

     Lived unbruised,
we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Sigh no more.

Ashamin watched Tiamat leave and let exhaustion first creep, then ravenously overtake him. He had only enough in him to call out after her a quiet "goodnight, thank you," before his tail dropped and his body sagged visibly. A soft sigh came from his lips and as he let his head fall with the relieved tension of no longer having to appear as if everything was normal, his forelock flopped over and tangled in the pits of his knotted horn. He scraped one cleft hoof across the cave rock before turning to look back up at Rexanna.

What was she thinking? He thought about that as he moved closer to her, exhaling soft warm breaths and moving to run his nose across her back without hesitation. She didn't seem scared or nervous, she didn't seem as if she doubted herself or her decisions. She just seemed content, maybe happy. A bit blissful perhaps now that she'd been healed. But Rexanna's only question for Ashamin was if she could stay the night; she asked nothing more of their situation.

Ashamin moved to the back of his cave, turning away from the alley that would lead him to the mirror and instead to the deeper warmth of the things he had gathered, the smell he had left. "Of course you can, Rexanna," he said with a soft snort and a flick of his ears in faint  beckoning. Let her then choose to follow or not, let her hoofbeats follow and echo his own. Perhaps there were some lingering questions, but Ashamin was fine with letting his life play out and those questions answer themselves on their own.

For now, he just needed to sleep.

""