No dreams within her heart,
but dreams of love.

The injured pegasus doesn’t seem to respond much to her gentle prodding, so the ocean mare continues to sweep her concerned gaze across the white sands. The Medic knows that she cannot procrastinate much longer—she will have to do whatever is in her power—but the dreadful, sickening knowledge that it likely won’t be enough (despite every last ounce of effort she will pour into him) keeps her searching, wishing against all odds that another healer will assist her. The blue mare’s spirit is not easily dampened. She believes in this world, in its kindness, and it is not in her character to abandon hope.

Mercifully, fortune does not fail her this day.

Tiamat squints her eyes against the blazing autumn sun, her heart leaping into her throat with anticipation when she notices a dark figure approaching them. He wears some strange sort of trinket around his face, which the blue mare would inquire amiably about at any other time, but now she is far too focused on her duty at hand. Her heart soars when he introduces himself as a healer, an Alchemist. She is not entirely familiar with the titles of the ranks within other herds, but even if he doesn’t have healing magic, her confidence swells with the promise of teamwork.

Turning her attention away from the winged equine for the briefest of moments, the ocean mare looks to Badger, offering a smile that comes far easier than his own. “My name is Tiamat, from the Basin. I’m a healer as well,” her curved horn is tipped in a friendly gesture, hoping to reassure him as much as he has reassured her. The controlled anxiety and concern in the stalli—male’s (an embarrassing observation for another time)—eyes are mirrored in her own. Just because she has studied and honed her knowledge and skill of herbs, Tiamat hasn’t been able to completely shake her distress when faced with the ravages of violence, and she doesn’t know if she ever will. She knows what she can do to help, and that must be enough.

When Badger shifts to question the wounded pegasus, Tiamat’s gaze follows suit, tracing the jagged lines of seared and shredded skin, her thoughts browsing which remedies would be best to use. Her heart pounds in her ears, so much so that she doesn’t even realize Miykael’s approach until he’s already at her shoulder. “Miykael, hello! I can say the same, my friend,” the lines of her face illuminate with his presence, knowing the beautiful effects of his magic first-hand. Together, the three of them will not fall unsuccessful.

Exhaling a comforted sigh from her nostrils, the unicorn tilts her ears forward when she hears a slow and weakened voice, lowering her head closer to the collapsed stallion’s. She manages a breezy chuckle, not unfamiliar with a stubborn patient. “Don’t worry, my friend—we will take care of you,” her smile never fading from her lips, she brushes her muzzle comfortingly against his cheek before looking up to the others. “I am proficient with herbs, but I do not have healing magic. I can tend to his surface wounds; I believe I will be of more use that way.”

The mare’s eyes wander momentarily to the pegasus’ scorched flanks, inwardly flinching at the amount of pain this poor fellow must be in. However, before such injuries are addressed, there is a greater concern in her mind. Looking down again to him, she probes him gently for an answer: “Are you thirsty? I can bring you fresh water.” Closing her eyes in concentration, the ocean mare summons that warmth, that unpracticed security within herself. Drawing upon the moisture in the air and the tropical forest, she manages to gather a small floating pocket of fresh liquid, swirling gently in the shape of a little orb. She guides it through the air, allowing it to rest near the wound stallion’s lips, offering it to him should he want it.


“Speech.”