The ocean mare finds herself giggling at the man’s display of excitement, his delight obvious in not only his exclamations, but his entire demeanor as well. She shakes her dainty head while her eyes shine, the shells in her hair chiming against one another as they move.
“The world can be such a small place, can’t it?” She muses between them. This simple fact has been a recurring one for her lately—as vast and unknown as the world can be sometimes, in the company of friends, it hardly seems daunting. Time and time again, she has been reminded that they are never truly alone (if only such a lesson weren’t so easily forgotten when the dark shadows of isolation bear heavily down).
Exhaling softly from her nostrils, Tiamat angles her body due North, gesturing over her shoulder towards the earthy stallion.
“Follow me then, my good sir!” She crows with pleasure, extending a cloven hoof in the first step of their journey. However, when Arion speaks again, she slows in her advance. Quirking an ear in his direction, she looks back at him with one side of her brow raised quizzically.
“Squad chiefs?” She teases his choice of words, pretending to be puzzled by the foreign title before her features soften playfully.
“I’m sure the Basin is always in need of some extra support, but I honestly don’t know. You’d have to ask one of our leaders—I’ll point you in their direction when we arrive. I’m a healer myself,” the ocean mare beams proudly, forever honored by her rank as a Time Mender,
“So I don’t know very much about the warrior ranks.” She chews on her bottom lip briefly, somewhat embarrassed by her lack of knowledge (a feeling she is not entirely familiar with, what with her hunger to learn, but when it comes to the violence of war, she finds herself instinctively shying away). Brushing it off as best she can, Tiamat grins again, calling to resume their travels.
notes; Nimue reference
“Speech.”
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