Rather eagerly, Tiamat has flung herself into a life that does not belong to her. Her contagious alacrity borders on the dangerous. At least, then, she is content in this state of hazardous instability. She leaves her father's side but still feels warm beneath her distant mother's embrace. She is never alone and always content with her company. She is blissfully entertained and meekly curious. Moments of discontentment are few and far between; all of them are easily cast aside. Her markings shimmer in the Tallsun light, appearing speckled across her blue buckskin coat as the canopy casts intermittent shadows over the scene. Her teeth, young and clean, bare in a playful whinny directed towards the sky. Her hooves, smooth and cleft, strike the earth in a festal manner as she moves swiftly through the sunlit mizzle. It becomes unclear what is she and what is nature as raindrops mix with her markings and catch in the hollows of her ivory horn. The scales about her eyes, melded with the fur by time, capture and reflect the sun's rays; the dark tresses of her adorned mane and tail catch with the wet and gather dust as her pace quickens and she canters through the wood.

This is bliss, she thinks. This is discovery.

Songbirds pass by, darting through the light rain and leaving trails of droplets through the wind. The atmosphere is frigorific, but the warmth in her spirit remains. She stops, her fore-hooves abutting the territories that lie beyond the threshold. For now, she can go no further. She misses her father dearly, but beneath her mother's gentle gaze she knows she is safe. As the young day draws on, she is patient. Something will change today, she is sure of it. She just has a good feeling about it all.


[Never was very good at starting threads. Anyway, this is open to anyone who would like to try and recruit young Tiamat!]

The hazy vestiges of Tallsun floated amongst the air, warm, transient, glowing pieces of indulgence and radiance, finite granules of summer, sonnets and sun. Like so many times before, she danced in its flicker and flare, breathed in the whimsical tides and fortunes, the ravenous plumes of blossoms and florets, of petals and stalks, became an ethereal essence, otherworldly entity. Glory, contentment, happiness heightened each waltzing step, each flourished motion, until it became a whirlwind of lone minuets, boleros and sonatas, gleaming, brilliant pieces of eternal vernal tidings. Compassion, tenderness, the dulcet, soft swings of the season caressed each billowing moment within the Threshold; she could not see the basking ire once present, she could not sense the threatening damnation once shifted along shadows, she could not hear the haunting requiems, laments and dirges that once echoed from lonely limbs and boughs. Only the resonance of hymns, of tunes, of arias chanted amongst the breeze, the wind, the air, welcomed newcomers with wafting, cordial ease, beckoned them from the snippets of history that’d brought them along these strange, altering, foreign corridors, that situated them in the hearth of desolation, to be sprung moments thereafter, encouraged to reign in lands of their stature. She, nymph and sylph, came upon the elements of these salutations, created by malice and menace, contorted into finery of elegance, grace and humility, urging others of her disposition, poise, and adornment, to belong.

Lena crossed into the wilderness and breathed in new scents, the warbling, unfamiliar, unknown poems and verses that uttered trebles of everything and nothing all at once, satin sheen of incorporeal wraiths, specters, seraphs and blackguards. Promises laden along roots, soil, earth and strangers, blessed, consecrated, sanctified in a new era, a new regime, a new path to wander, traverse and scout. She chose one in particular to follow, painted her own canvas of trail, brushed and stroked the terrain with the vivid, bright hue of her movements, laced and woven into tight threads of airy distinction, fey, fairy and sprite. It led her to a winding path of forest and glade, and she turned, twisted, amongst the verdant blades, the tickling leaves, the cool, pressing currents, and finally, towards a pool of water, fresh, trickling, vibrant and tenacious. She remembered an earlier trek along the glacial winter, to a world frozen in terror, uncertain futures, and harbored, empty, vacant chills. Yet, now, there was no fog, no haze, no Siberian interludes, nothing but the ever-reaching sun, the glow of prospects, and the expanse of the herd she’d chosen to serve, protect and renew.

Her eyes found the newcomer, embraced by the shoal of entangling waters, once damp, now covered with gathered alms of the forest. From the glowing light of the glade, her honeyed stare watched her for a few scarce moments, studying, seconds in contemplation. He was a dazzling hue, like beams of sunlight and sienna, dampened only by the stream’s light, sinuous touches, seashells adorned, shells clasped in her mane. Were these ornaments of her element, of her personality, of her character? Was she made of waves, of sand, of sirens and nymphs? Curiosity piqued, thoughts rendered were inquisitive, quandaries laden in swirling, swarming tides – but she queried naught. Collecting the information and remaining vague, silent, about it, she inclined closer, molded her frame into the glade, into the wood, into the copse of towering trees and regal, noble strands of tranquility. Imogen, ghosting and trailing behind her, offered her own chirp of welcoming, a brief brew of glee and bliss. Lena's first vocals were composed into a light, taffeta murmur, brief and gentle, a greeting amongst the fray. “Hello!” She paused, tucking her head towards her chest, a respectful nod towards the youth, before returning to her prior position, fostering on with the strong hum of her trilling hymns. A luminescent smile was tucked along her lips, curling them upwards in an enlightened trace of whimsical pixies and unearthly seraphs. “Welcome to Helovia. I’m Lena of the Aurora Basin. Who are you?”

From the edge of the wood, company comes. Tiamat, smiling, lifts her head up into the oncoming rain and presses her lids over bright, pearlescent eyes. "Thank you Mama," she whispers into the patter of rain. Her thanks, too quiet for the strangers to hear, end with a downturn of her head and a fluttering of her rain soaked lashes. Eagerly, but with practiced caution, she steps carefully closer to the unfamiliar mare with a bowed head and a sense of respect settled over her entire, slender figure. She accepts the nod and extends her curved neck out in tactile greeting, offering her muzzle to touch should the older mare accept. Her ever-alert eyes and ears catch the presence of the fox by the mare's side, and she can't help but let the surprise show. This is no ordinary fox; though it's white purity alone would have been anomalous, its four extra tails are what capture Tiamat's curiosity.

Still, she will be polite as she has been taught to be. It is deference that has brought her this far, and she knows she would be a fool to abandon it now. "So nice to meet you, Lena," Tiamat begins, almost shyly. The mare before her exudes wisdom and kindness, and seems to be an admirable soul. The young one looks over the mare carefully, doing what she can to not be noticed. What an interesting horn- more simple than Tiamat's own, but just as beautiful. The rain pools in the recesses of her ivory spike, bringing the familiar sounds of the water close to Tiamat's senses. It is a soothing sensation- reminiscent of how her father once cradled her by the shore and protected her from the darkest storm that she can remember.

That had been a terrible turn of the weather, she thinks. Nothing like today's chorus of ocean and sky. Tiamat, enlivened by the surroundings, takes a careful step backwards and lifts her delicate head to a comfortable height. "I'm Tiamat, of the Ocean, she proffers, her response only slightly delayed. Strange- she wonders about Lena's own parents and home. This Aurora Basin... is it the place Lena felt at peace? Is it her ocean wave and summer sky- the safety of her father's embrace and her mother's protection?

The yearling's eyes meet the blue of the fox's carefully. She feels somewhat strange and out of place; even as she lifts her long tail from the wet earth, she is reminded of another difference between herself and the stranger. But differences are to be found in everyone, aren't they? No, Tiamat decides: She will not let any contrasts between herself and this stranger scare her. One can't be scared if they will themselves to trust.

Lena cherished the elements of the earth, enjoyed the warmth of spring and the dovetails of summer, the crisp churn of autumn and the chilling, biting course of winter. She beloved the convictions of boughs and arms nestled over her frame, so that she blended into wood and fern, she loved the quiet promises the listless, languid air offered, and she turned her head towards the sky when it declared mercy upon their restless souls. Even now, as the pulse of the rain caressed their flesh, inviting, coaxing, cajoling, she lifted her eyes to its radiance, allowed the shelter of its embrace to swallow her seraphic bliss. Sylph and fey, she granted the whims of her fanciful ministrations, hummed a rhythmic aria that laced, pulsed, intertwined with the rain, sweet, soft murmurs to match the pattern of sprinkling reverie and rapture. Like a whisper, like a hymn, it reminded her of serenity, of tranquility, of songbirds fluttering their feathers, of the dulcet lullabies murmured in some distant dream, some far off trance. It stroked her memory of favored brethren, of Huyana, who persuaded the water to flow, and Aurelius, who laughed and smiled at their delight. It recalled moments drenched and soused, a child in the eaves and leaves of nothingness, with only the company of the softly falling drops cascading down her pelt, left to the portal of desolation, yearning for more utopia in a place that could offer none. Had this child brought the sultry waves, the light drizzle that tore away a foggy mind, that clarified and cleansed cordial essences? Could she wipe away the mist of melancholy, the forlorn abyss? The nymph couldn’t help but be inspired by such things, to twist and yearn for the soothing bulb of repose, florets, blooms that never withered, flowers that never decayed. Could her trill influence the void too, amongst the chorus of bells, carols and musings?

She brought her gaze to rest back upon the creature come to life in the trickle and splash of the sky. What was she? Another brilliant, luminescent youth tracing the embrace of ocean, pondering over life’s desires? What did she crave in this world? What made her leave from her own? Was she like the rain, the water, always flowing, always moving: a constant, unwavering force that could smile and strike in the same instant? Did she call for them like a siren, welcoming, convincing, sultry and beguiling, until the moment where they met rock, rubble and stone? The honeyed fairy moved to meet the proffered maw of the sea femme, a gesture of affable, amiable delight, hoping to have found a similar creature in a world, in a kingdom, of dusk, shadow and mystery. Her surprise at Imogen’s appearance was amusing, Lena curled her grin into an even grander gesture, flicking her attention briefly to the ivory kitsune, and subsequently swinging her head towards the scion. With only the briefest hesitation, the companion sidled forth, tails swinging as droplets fell over her once pristine coat, nose reaching for the brine child’s front hooves, chirping and chittering at her in welcome. With her own version of song and sincerity, the kit established a bright, peaceful greeting, and backed away only a few steps thereafter to ensure Lena’s presence remained.

And so she did; brewing a dulcet trill that beckoned forth gracious, pleasant tunes, mellifluous strings gifted in delicacy and compassion. “A pleasure, Tiamat.” She paused briefly, stole another breath of the humid air, felt the rain continue to fall over her body, and enjoyed the ardor of the haze. “This is Imogen.” Her stare fell once to the fox at her daggers, then again to the youth of foam, zephyrs and waves. She wished to get to know her better, the one who belonged to the ocean, who could dance upon ripples and splash in pools, who could linger in currents and dabble in a world that would otherwise restrain, hinder and demolish those who tried to conquer its passions. How does a daughter spring from its depths, lost to the cool winds and chilling halls? Her voice filtered again, through the inquiries, through the enchantments and charms, towards elegant musing again. “The ocean is a wonderful place. What brings you away from its tides?”

Tiamat realizes quite suddenly how poorly she must hide her own emotions. Lena's replies yield her understanding of young Tiamat's own thoughts. The childlike mare of the sea, while somewhat surprised, finds no issue with her own readily understood emotions. What use is there in hiding things, as long as they are polite enough? Surely she can cause no harm by being such a clear-watered pool. Her transparency, while unintentional, is certainly of no detriment, she decides firmly.

Pleased to know the name of the curious creature, she lets her sated curiosity shine brightly. Water soaks the locks of her mane and pulls it to stick over her eyes, but through the cloaking she still sees the bright and cheerful form of the white fox. Its eager trills come as a surprise, but she feels no fear. Whinnying softly, she lowers her nose to the trilling beast as a gesture of understanding. The fox is a creature of nature; perhaps loyal to this mare, but certainly not tamed or owned by her. The love and readiness that Tiamat recognizes in the kit is familiar, and she finds it a comfort to see such emotion in one other than herself.

"She seems to be a pleasant companion," Tiamat replies with an easy and comfortable upturn of the lips. As she tosses her crown upwards, rain-soaked hair flies up and plasters itself in and around her horn and perked ears. She blinks rapidly, expelling the water from her eyes as best as she can, but still her vision blurs. With careful attention, she considers the mare's question. Why had she left? Well, she supposes it had simply been the time to leave. It is not that she had been unfulfilled by the company of her parents, but they could only do so much for her, she decides. One must make their own way. "Well, one must leave their family at some point, I suppose is all. It just seemed the thing to do," she answers cooly, letting her plumed tail create swaths across in the pete as it turns to mud. "But I do intend to visit, of course," she adds quickly, as if to assure Lena that she is a loyal daughter. "The Sky and the Ocean are never far, after all," she concludes brightly, looking forward to what this encounter might mean for her future. She casts her clear eyes upwards to her mother's expanse as she speaks of her, happy to be guarded at all times.

Lena admired the child, for her ability to wander from a familiar world to the unknown vestiges of enigmas, quandaries and distortions, looping, travailing, and wavering until she found a kingdom to settle upon. Young and tender, but drawn to the stars and the clouds, the heady haze of showers, the simple conjectures of ethereal essences, the otherworldly expanse of another sovereignty, this Tiamat blossomed in the eaves of a rain’s gentle, trilling prose. What would become of her now, in the shelter new storms, new salvations, new graces, new hopes, new dreams fluttering in the aspiring winds? Would she thrive? Would she bloom? Would she find what she longed, yearned, burned for, amongst the bestial zephyrs, the dampening streams, the perilous heights? Would she prevail, would she conquer, would she triumph over the whims of darker, archaic designs? The nymph desired the watery scion’s success, found herself bound to compassions, wishes, and expectations for a fellow reverie to gain confidence, conviction and assurance. So her smile grew, a luminescent grin that lingered in rhapsody and song, promised warbles and hymns, bubbled and brewed with mellifluous, melodious, and seraphic glee. An aria left her mouth, acknowledged the precious compliments she’d given her stalwart follower. “Thank you. She is.” Her eyes turned downward towards Imogen, who twittered in delight, fluffed her ivory fur with pride, distinction and regality, swiftly, quickly, bestowing a light tap of her maw upon Tiamat’s nose; her shared delight and euphoria.

Then the belle answered her question, and Lena listened, allowed the information to flow over her mind like the benevolent gestures of the drizzle that still cascaded over their matching hearts. One must leave their family at some point. It was a relief to find the filly had not been washed away from her portals of sanctuary and refuge, that her haven had not been lost to traumatic, horrifying events, that the earth had not stopped turning in her loss of love and life. She’d struck out on her own, adventured and gallivanted across plains in something for herself – the honeyed, ambrosial femme relayed the notions, continued to smile at the sentiments. While she had not been permitted to cherish her childhood, to be bestowed with kindness, understanding, comfort or happiness, it was reassuring that so many others were still gifted and bestowed with the generosities of their loving families. As Lena sauntered in the dim world of shadow and silence, this scion grew, nourished, flourished, already radiant, already shining. Her smile never faltered even as her eyes sought the sky again, felt the listless lull of droplets ghosting down her features. The world was still well, for even if she’d been brought up in shambles, in chaos, in desolation, this youth prospered, well, whole. In the bridge of quiet, she thanked the heavens and the soil, the water and the rain, for those moments of clarity, hope and devotion. Her words, a wholesome, winsome whisper, were strung together towards the empyrean, filtering amongst the boughs, eaves and halls. “How lovely – to always have them watching over you.”

She shifted her head back towards the child, tilted it in a regal, curious manner, sparked a spectacular notion that crossed over her features in a gleaming, glowing, ablaze splendor, varnished in the stream of benevolence and benediction. Her voice, sprung from her obliging soul, helped to proffer another armament of guardianship, of shelter and security. “Perhaps, if you’d be interested, you may come to my home? The Basin houses plentiful amounts of water, earth and sky.” Lena paused, smiled more, granted muted promises of companionship for eternity. Her friendship was an everlasting canvas, an immortal, infinite, boundless rendering. “You would never be lonely.”

The cold sensation of the unfamiliar kit's nose brushing against her own is thrilling. She feels as if there is an understanding between herself, the Ocean's daughter, and the new mare's companion- a mutual respect of each other as creatures respectful of and belonging to this world. Tiamat lets her white eyes settle over Lena and her pointed ears turn forward to cup the sound of her voice. Lena's proposition echoes within Tiamat's nimble form, seeming to reverberate through her bones and clatter in her lungs as she breathes them in blissfully. The dark mare's comment on her family was respectful and kind- so, it seems, is everything else about her. To go with lena would pose no threat. She feels freer even as she considers the proposition- that sense alone is enough to make up her mind.

Her weight shifts forward to her cannons in childlike anticipation. She is ready to run, go forth towards her new home and experience what Lena describes. To never be lonely... she does not feel as if she has been lonely, but perhaps... perhaps she has. There has been a sort of hollowness in her mind and in her heart that has before never been explained. She has sought no explanation, for it has caused her no trouble. But to fill one's emptiness with something might give her something she has not even known she has missed. The expectation and excitement is too much; right away, she replies.

"I would love to follow you," young Tiamat answers with a soft nickering and a step closer. The cleft of her hooves fills with pete and the steady rain soaks into her coat. A home, a place to stay, would be welcome now. Kind as her parents may be, they offer her little in the way of true shelter. "Your Aurora Basin..." she begins with a hesitant and respectful dip of her nose to the earth "The others there... they will be kind?" It feels a strange question to ask; normally she would assume kindness. But these are strangers- the first ones she will every truly interact with. She thinks of it as an obligation, even if it is not one she finds particularly pleasant. She wrinkles her nostrils and breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of the earth and rain as they lace faintly across her senses. In the distance, the forest ends in a haze of light. She looks on hopefully, awaiting the future.

The youth is eager, ready, a collected, slender, tender nuance of heartfelt sentiments that coast and ghost over the horizon. A new beginning, a foreign, inviting entity that tempted, enticed and dangled on strings; like a fresh adventure wallowing in its enlivened pose and prose. The world was available for her dominion, the slip of her watery grace, the elegance of her liquid, fluid finery and the pursuit of her composed dreams, wishes and heartaches. Lena enjoyed watching the invocation of welcomes, yearnings and daydreams fall over each and every newcomer, wondering where their souls would be pulled, eager for them to stray from the shadows, to become wind, earth and sky, to touch upon mountains, glories and triumphs in the stead of her own brethren. An exploration of freedom, expanse and wonder, eyes widened, feet feverish, breaths mingled with newfound grails and objectives. She’d grown beneath the waking stars and the crescent moon, the harsh, unforgiving reel of cold and splendor, the edge of the terrain and the heat of the sun; Tiamat would do the same, unraveling in bliss. What she chose along her path would be up to the strength of her core, the caliber of her character, the brawn and might she chose to wield; for even in this realm of compassion, tenderness and rapture, there were still the undying moments that tested one’s resolve, one’s composure, one’s regal stature amongst the heavens. The sylph smiled at the child, still beaming, still blossoming, pleased to hear that her offer had been accepted, bursting with thrill, pleasure and delight. Her query, however, left her pondering. They will be kind? The Basin was a particular collection of unique souls, postured and pulled into differing, altering directions – and Lena very rarely settled herself amongst the darker core, along the unholy, unraveling demands. Her open grins and blossoming prosperities often quelled fervent hostilities, but she had not been across many of the fervid tirades. She thought now, to kind, wise Faelene, to serene, tranquil Huyana, to the strong Larkspur, the stalwart Aurelius, and trusted herself to speak the truth of her companions. “I’m so glad.” She paused, spun more ambrosia from cordial lips. “There are some that are benevolent, and there are some that are mercurial. I believe it all depends on whom you wish to follow.”

Lena offers an honest answer, and nervous as she may be, Tiamat accepts it with no more than a faint not at first. She is correct in her thinking, then, she notices. As with anywhere else, there are those who are kind and those who are not- variety is to be expected. She is not thrown off by the prospect of less welcoming sorts than Lena, merely thankful that the dark mare spoke the apparent truth.

"Thank you for being honest. You seem to care deeply for your herdmates, she comments with a subtly submissive dip of the head and an upwards glance to the older and slightly taller mare. It is the care that she sees in Lena's eyes that causes her to respect the elder so much. That, of course, and common courtesy.

Still keeping her head low, Tiamat takes a few careful steps forward, hesitantly, across the apparent border. There is surely a long journey ahead, and she is eager to begin it, but she urges herself to be patient. Her tail, however, twitching nervously and patting itself rhythmically against the soaked earth, betrays her impatience. She is still young, she has much to learn. Patience is a virtue that she will someday recognize, but today, as the rain grows colder and brings a slight shiver across her shining coat that darkens with the wet and shimmers in the light, she wants nothing more than to go to shelter. To go home- to her new home.

Her desire is strong and clear. Her white eyes are hopeful, her lips upturned. She stands with her body tilted forward, doing what she can to contain her energy. Were it just she alone she might run, far into the wet wilderness and fast along the path to her future. But she waits instead in anticipatory silence for the other mare to begin the trek.

[[Just wrapping up, we can end this whenever. I'm just as excited for the Basin as she is, haha!]]