The stranger’s sharp tongue bites enough to startle the ocean mare, her dainty ears splaying uncertainly to the side as she leans a step back, head lowering apologetically. While she is a joyful and friendly character herself, she has seen enough (too much) hate and bloodshed to spark a kindling of anxiousness in the pit of her stomach. She is always believing in the goodness of others, but since the horror of the gods’ war, a seed of caution has been planted where inhibition once flourished without restraint. Consequently, she tip-toes around the large mare for a moment, not wanting to add tinder to the fiery irritation that seems to flare in the other’s eyes.

White doe-eyes watch with unassuming care, a touch of a smile returning to sapphire lips when the massive woman inclines her head in return. With caution thrown (perhaps foolishly) to the wind, Tiamat opens herself once again. Although undoubtedly encased in a calloused, hardened shell, she trusts there’s a softness somewhere beneath the mare’s coarse exterior—even if it’s barbed and shackled, it’s there (she just knows it).

“Oh, a captain!” Tiamat’s smile broadens, her voice laced with something like praise. The ocean mare is not one for violence—she detests it, honestly—but she is beginning to learn that (try as she might) not everyone can look over it. All the same, this silvery mare has earned her title, and though Tiamat might not agree, that doesn’t mean her honest accomplishments don’t deserve recognition. “It’s a pleasure, Narcissa,” the blue Mender offers a kindly grin, the words spoken with genuineness rather than out of habit. She parts her lips in an effort to ease Narcissa’s apparent rise of suspicion, but she is interrupted by the ungainly arrival of another (not unlike her own graceless meeting with the gray woman).

Paradox is the new mare’s name (a fitting title, Tiamat thinks, for one colored as strangely as she); that is to say Paradox is unique, but undeniably beautiful in her own right. The blue mare smiles a greeting, the length of her leonine tail curling and swaying behind her when the two exchange somewhat-terse words about the storm. “Perhaps I could help?” Tiamat interjects, glancing to each of them before looking upward.

Closing her eyes, she focuses on the rain, feels as it streams down her face and through her hair, surrounding them. As though extending a muscle from herself, the young Mender collects the water into a large pocket, expanding and shaping it, until it is a bubble of sorts that extends to encircle each of the mare’s head and necks. As the rains fall from above, her magic catches it as it rolls off the orb’s surface, drifting with the slow current and blown by the winds until it is released again. Should they wish, anyone could leave the pocket, of course—it is hardly solid in its shape, and not restricting of their movement. At her shoulder, Nimue chirps her wonder. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep our faces dry at least,” Tiamat smiles happily, a fragment of her concentration focused on her magic, while the majority is directed to Narcissa and Paradox.

Turning to the latter, she tilts her horn briefly. “I’m Tiamat, from the Aurora Basin. You’re from the Unbound, you say? Do you happen to know Ashamin? He’s a dear friend of mine,” her smile is soft, tender, though there’s an indiscernible sadness (bitterness?) in her eyes. The Clovenheart’s leave of the Basin had scoured a hole in her heart; the edges are still painful, wrought with abandonment, confusion, and guilt. (He said she would never lose him again—) But now is not the time to dwell on such dark things—

Redirecting her gaze to the mammoth of a mare, the ocean maiden forces her smile wider. “The Aurora Basin is a herd in the mountains; a beautiful place!” Her love for her home is a balm for her heart. White eyes sparkle with excitement, with wonder, and with a desire to have everyone see what she sees in those magnificent mountains (a haven and family).

“We work together among different ranks. There’s the warriors, seers, crafters, spies, and healers of course,” she giggles softly, shaking her head with a tinkling of shells. Unlike the skull-faced mare, Tiamat cannot fathom living life alone—much less enjoying it (but each to their own). To have a herd, a family to watch out for each other, is something she holds dear to her heart. “Perhaps you could even be a captain again!” She adds with a twinkle in her eye and laughter on her lips. Tiamat knows very little (read: just about nothing) about the warrior ranks, but she does know they are in need of recruits.

There’s always a place for everyone.

Nimue reference <3
“Speech.”