The low echo of the stallion’s anonymous greeting is easily heard by the blue mare, who is not standing far away. Raising her head from where she had been foraging through the snow for some light grazing, she glances around, expecting to see the stranger through the trees. Sapphire lips purse together when the frosty shadows yield no one—leaving the oceanic pair seemingly alone. Shifting her weight, the blue Mender leans a step forward in the general direction that the voice had come from, her dainty ears slanting intently forward. “Hello!?” Tiamat calls out confidently, sure that she had heard someone.

Whisking the length of her lion tail gently over the snow, she ambles forward, one ear rotating backwards when she feels the touch of her companion at her flank, while the other remains attentively perked. Sheltered as she is, the pretty maiden has no inhibitions pursuing a strange voice. She does not think of the dangers that might await her, or the black creatures that lay in wait for a naïve and helpless lamb like herself—if anything, her curiosity gets the better of her, as it often does.

The two have been lingering a lot around Helovia’s Threshold lately. Tiamat would like to believe that it is because of her desire to help others the way that Lena had helped her—to guide them towards the type of home and belonging that she has found (whether it is in the Basin for them or not). And, undoubtedly, that is mostly true. However, there is a small part of the ocean mare that harbors a poisonous thread of guilt—guilt for having let her herd down, for being so absent and uninvolved in their dealings. Tiamat seeks forgiveness now, doing all she can in her little power for her beloved herd family.

Today, like many others recently, fate has granted her mercy.

A stallion is soon distinguishable among the trees (so earthy is his coat, she might have missed him had she not been searching). “Hi there,” Tiamat offers a warm grin as she emerges from the woodland, “fancy meeting you here, stranger.” She teases him as though they are familiar friends rather than strangers, laughter in her voice and a twinkle in her eye. Extending her muzzle in a welcoming gesture, she settles comfortably in his company. “My name is Tiamat, and this is my companion, Nimue,” she gestures to the bashful Leviathan before dipping her horned brow, peering at him with bright eyes, “Are you by chance new to Helovia?”


notes; Nimue reference
“Speech.”