Everything begins to unfurl before her and shed upon the world a new light of beauty. Each motion made stirs up frost and traces lines upon the ice; each word spoken fades into the dry cold of the chilled land. Her eyes trace lines along caves that stretch in the distance, but always travel back to the shore of the lake. Lena's words almost slip by as the filly finds herself drowned in excitement, but like a sailor to shore, she finds them in the end. A tour? Her neck arches backwards as her head tosses up delightedly. In the thin air behind her, faint ripples are seemingly cast in the low hanging sky as her mane and tail wave behind her.
"A tour would be wonderful, Lena," she answers with an excited pawing of the snowy earth beneath her, and an anxious tilt forward. She does not stand out amongst the blue-gray hues of the basin; she feels at home, a part of this place. Her mind does not waver, it instead focuses directly on the task laid out before her: to come to know this land better than any other. She desires to feel the heart of the basin beat within her own breast- to understand its secrets as well as any she may ever hold. When the evenings are dark and stormy, whenever she may lose her way, this is where she hopes her body will take her by instinct.
The expanse of white is broken by the dark, blood-bay figure of a stranger. He approaches with what Tiamat sees as ease; it is clear that he is of this place. By his side, a canine pup waves an eager tail. Together, they are a picture of companionship. She knows nothing of what lies in his heart, but she is certain it cannot be impure. His face bears intelligence, his stature high ranking, his words confident.
He calls her youthful, and she instinctively snorts playfully and somewhat nervously in quiet acknowledgement. Something about the stallion ushers her into silent reverie; she feels it is not her place to speak in his presence. Still, he has asked of her a question and she has no intention of denying him the answer. "I am Tiamat," she answers, her voice at once low and reserved. She seems almost demure in her timidity. She understands, perhaps by the way which Lena bows before him, or perhaps by the elite phrasing of his title, that he is to be respected. She may know little of her new herd, but she knows this. "It is an honor to meet you, sir," she adds, lowering her head as Lena had done but still looking curiously up through thick, dark lashes. She bends so that her carved horn threatens to trace lines in the ice, and then unfurls once more. Instinctively, her body shifts back to stand closer and slightly behind the dark mare that has led her here. She will treat this new mender with deference, if that is what he has earned among those in her new herd. She will follow the lead of those that have walked here before her, and she will do as she is told.
She has always been a very quick study.
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[O] blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open]
