tiamat

Cloven hooves step daintily between the trees, mindful of the gnarled roots and messy underbrush, careful not to scuff the dry, black bark. Her ears stand erect on her crown, twisting occasionally in search of a sound—anything other than her own hoof beats and soft breaths—though the Dark Forest continues in its heavy silence. Perhaps surprisingly so, this shadowy atmosphere does not frighten the ocean mare. Maybe her heart is too sheltered to imagine the monsters that might lurk in a darkness such as this, but being surrounded by the presence of nature (her family) gives her a (foolish?) sense of security, of togetherness.

Sapphire nostrils curl as she releases a slow exhale, pausing in her step to press her velvet muzzle against the rough trunk of a tree. Somehow, she sees beauty in this. In the way the shadows dance, in the way the scarce few shafts of light fall, in the way that the forest seems to go on forever—ever twisting, winding, and changing. Drawing away, she saunters forward again, the long hair of her lion tail brushing against the thicket of leaves and moss. Nature falls quietly behind her, settling back into shadowy cocoons and hiding any evidence of her path.

From around the mare’s neck, the glowing charm of her necklace illuminates her features, highlighting the delicate lines in a soft halo of green. Absentmindedly, her neck arches to occasionally brush the small light with her muzzle. Gifted to her from that kind, reverent turtle, Tiamat calls upon the charm for good thoughts and surety, allowing it to remind her that there is always kindness in the world. There is always hope, always goodness—

—always goodness—

—even in the face of death.

Stumbling suddenly upon the gnarled, bone-bleached oak tree, the blue mare is frozen to a halt. For the first time tonight, she feels the cold prickle of fear along her spine. Doe-eyes are wide, cloven hooves seemingly rooted where she stands, taking in the ghoulish beast that stands before her (and the longer she stares, the colder she feels). “A game?” Tiamat whispers with a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Though every instinct screams at her to run, the ocean mare stays (why, exactly? Perhaps because she wants to believe in the goodness, or perhaps there is something—something—about this rotting beast that bids her to stay).

Shifting her weight, the blue mare draws her legs in closer to her body, standing more comfortably at the fringe of the knotted, bleached roots. Vaguely she notices the two macabre-marked colts not far from her side, even manages a gentle grin of greeting, but she finds that her attention is swallowed by the monstrosity of a man. Looking into his pitted, red eyes, she cannot fight the shiver of her spine—and flicking her leonine tail behind her, she reminds herself of the kindness, the goodness, the hope—


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“Speech.”
Seeking: [Magic: EarthxWind (U) | Pockets of water may be used to heal/soothe minor injuries.]
(An upgrade for
:: [ Magic: EarthxWind | The ability to draw moisture from the clouds, water, and sky to create floating pockets of water that she can move at will. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Can create up to three small, or one large, floating pockets of water and exist in 5m radius from body. ])

Wishlist
First Refusal | Second Refusal

dreaming the day away!