Anxiously the ocean mare combs through the herbs braided in her hair, grasping in her lips those of healing and comfort, though the twisting of her stomach only tightens with the sight of the stallion’s fresh, dripping wounds. She feels his touch when he reaches out, stroking her cheek and urging her away from her herbs. “But, Nox—” Tiamat protests, unwilling to take no for an answer and simply stand by while her dear friend suffers. Her eyes dart to his—her gaze earnest and worried—expecting to see the same reflected in his own, but instead he is warm, calm.

Almost begrudgingly, she surrenders the sprigs she had grasped, her eyes never straying from his as she searches for an explanation. She must trust him; over and over she reminds herself of this, certain that Nox wouldn’t simply choose to wallow in this agony that must surely haunt him. Leaning a step closer to the scarred stallion, the blue mare listens. With every word that is spun from his lips, her brows knit closer together, the paleness of her eyes shining with a mixture of horror, compassion, sorrow, and concern.

“A curse? When did this happen?” Tiamat breathes when he is finished, frustrated by the misfortune that has been forced upon him. She remembers when she had first met Johnny, how he had explained the curse put upon him to turn him to sugar and candy—and how, despite the witch’s terrible intentions, he had made the best of it. It is obvious to see that the little stallion is just as happy as ever.

However, it is difficult for the blue mare to see an upside to Nox’s particular curse. To have to relive every one of your wounds every night? Where is the compassion in that? Who would do such a dreadful thing?! “I’m so sorry!” She cries, moving to the stallion’s side and pressing herself gingerly against his shoulder, resting her head against his bruised and bloodied neck. It does not bother her to be stained by blood and gore—not when the damage has already been done.

Where it possible, she would take this upon herself, if only to spare him.

Her eyes sting with the threat of tears, the crisp, flickering flames blurring into something like vibrant strokes of watercolor before her eyes. “Is there nothing you can do? Is there nothing I can do?” Tiamat’s voice is almost a whimper, refusing to release her tiny thread of hope, and unwilling to accept that she can do nothing. The world cannot be that cruel. It just can’t. For a long moment she rests in silence, mulling over her anxious thoughts, before she slowly pulls away. Moving just enough to seek his gaze, Tiamat whispers sadly, a hint of desperation lingering beneath her shining eyes, “The price to never die…is it really worth it when you must suffer so?”

“Speech.”

dreaming the day away!