Tiamat lays sprawled out in the snow, enjoying the simple beauty of nature. Having just spent the last few hours in the healer’s cave, she had been on her way back to her own cave before lying down, promptly deciding that she is in no hurry—why not enjoy life’s little pleasures? She watches her sister clouds move above her, the treetops swaying gently, with their branches rustling quietly in the breeze. She nearly loses herself, expanding and opening her mind to nature.

But her curiosity is hardly satisfied.

Nearby voices eventually rouse the mare’s attention, distracting her from her musings as dainty ears tilt forward to cup the rumbling sounds. Always eager to make new friends, or reunite with old ones, it takes half a moment for Tiamat to decide to appease her curiosity. Pushing herself up from the ground, she shakes the snow from her satin skin before pressing onward, cloven hooves carrying her forward at a leisurely trot. Dark blue nostrils curl as she inhales the crisp air of winter, so clean and wonderful, even if it can be rather bitter at times. However, there are other things—familiar things—that the cold breeze carries that grasp her interest.

Threading through the trees, a smile brightens across her features as her brother lake opens up before her, with two familiar figures standing at its frozen banks. “Nox!” She calls out happily, her voice mingling with laughter that chimes like rain against the rocks. Approaching from Nox’s side, she looks to him first with a grin, reaching out to touch his cheek before shifting her attention to the other stallion. “My Lord,” the ocean mare bows her head reverently, harboring nothing but respect, admiration, and friendship towards her beloved king.

As white eyes rise to their natural height, they wander along the body of the Reaper, following the nasty trail of his wounds. “You are hurt,” Tiamat’s brow knits together in concern, her eyes suddenly wide with a compassion that is honest and simple in its sincerity (because she knows no different, giving her heart and care to all). Pursing her lips in a soft line, the ocean mare moves around to Deimos’ side. There is almost a sadness in her expression as she considers the damage, wondering how someone could ever do this, and wishing to take his pain upon herself if it were possible, if only to ease his suffering.

But alas, all she can do is in her knowledge of herbs and healing—and she has every intention to do all she can. Taking note of the herbs laid in the snow, she glances to Nox, a small smile fluttering over her lips. “I see Nox has already provided you with some care; let’s see if I can help as well,” her voice is light despite her unease, ever hopeful and bright. Quickly, she sifts through her herbs, snatching first a sprig of comfrey root.

Grinding it with her hoof, it creates a poultice with the snow, which she smears carefully into the stallion’s two largest wounds: on his neck and flank. “That will help heal and prevent inflammation,” she explains, always eager to share and expand her knowledge, before casting the Lord a smile and grasping a few blossoms of chamomile. “And these will help you relax; I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“Speech.”