HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun
[O] a wild child - Printable Version

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a wild child - Tiamat - 09-24-2015

The alien sickness had seemed to infect her quickly, once it had a chance to lay its dirty fingers across her satin body. It had scared her at first—frightening as it had been, to suddenly have one’s vision blotted out and blurred, and your throat clotted with thick, black mucus until breathing sometimes became difficult. Who wouldn’t be terrified? Naturally, the ocean mare had tried her best in figuring out how to treat it, or at least something to alleviate the discomfort. She had found various herbs, roots, and sprigs known to aid in such respiratory or immunity distress, had both eaten them and slathered them in a paste across her face, but despite all of her best efforts thus far, the sickness endured.

After the miracle of Halcyon Flats, Tiamat had intended to make her way north, back to the Aurora Basin. The thought of home is comforting enough, but perhaps Lena or Enna would be there—surely a Time Mender would know what to do!—and the beckoning of the warm steam at the hot springs, seeping into her congested airways, is tantalizing enough to make her sigh longingly (consequently sending her into another fit of gagging, racking coughs). She has not been infected nearly as long as some of the others, or so she has been told, and her heart goes out to those who have suffered.

How can she expect to be a healer, when she can’t even take care of herself?

It is a silly and irrational thought—this sickness cannot possibly be normal, as strange and foreign as it is—but that does not dampen her desire to help the others, heal them, mend them. It is her heart’s calling to do so, in any situation, she has no doubt about that.

The ocean mare likely would be disheartened right about now, suffering from the black sludge and discouraged in her failed attempts at a cure, but—oddly enough—she is not. Not at the moment, anyway. Having become disoriented in her travels from the south, Tiamat had thus strayed from her course towards the Basin, and now finds herself standing at the wide, flat expanse of the ocean. Endless Blue. It truly is endless. “Hello, Papa!” The young mare cries out to the ocean, her voice a singsong of gurgling laughter and trilling euphoria. She is on a high—buoyed by the sparing of bloodshed at Halcyon Flats, indescribably grateful for the Sun God’s mercy, and standing now again at her father’s side, how could she not be exhilarated in her joy?

The Labyrinth’s Lung still runs its black mark across her face, thick goop gathering at the corners of her eyes and leaking from her nostrils, spraying from her tongue with every peal of laughter—it is by no means a pretty sight, but she cares little about that. The sickness has now painted for her for a symphony of colors, vibrant hues rising from the ocean to wrap around her in pulsating ribbons of sound. She delights in their wild ballet of color, stepping high as she prances forward, dancing happily along the shoreline with the ribbons entwining and playing about her. So often plagued by her recent suffering, the mare revels in this moment of joy, however delusional it might be.

notes;; She sees sounds in color because of the GLL:) so excited!

img © Malene Thyssen
@Random Event for GLL, even if she's going to get cured here in a bit xD

RE: a wild child - Miykael - 09-27-2015


After discovering the efficacy of his magic against the mysterious sickness on Archibald, he'd left to comb Helovia for others and found five more - both by chance and by the aide of his companion - in the vibrant thistle meadow. He'd helped them, as best he could but the magic had sapped his energy and left him with a whole host of afflictions - the most persistent being the tickle in his throat. The disease is of a foreign nature, perhaps the most probable explanation as to why healing five in fairly quick succession had nearly knocked him out. He still feels the sharpness of pain in his head - a feeling of pressure all over his skull, time ticking by the minutes or seconds until his head simply explodes - though the sweating and trembling have dissipated. Much to his relief.

For several minutes (maybe hours?) he laid in the meadow, attempting to will the pain away. His companion, Eliana, sits in a nearby tree - disgruntled, silver eyes shooting daggers at him for putting himself in danger. Her irritation shifts to seething, white-hot anger when he lifts himself off the ground, intent to continue his mission. The Roc Zephyr flies down to his back, digging her claws into his flesh hard to enough to prick his skin. Blood wells around her claws. 'Don't.' she pleads, 'You die.' Her voice is harsh in his mind, angry but he could feel the concern and fear that she tries so hard to hide. Miykael sighs softly, lowers his head and for a moment he's deep in thought. But Eliana already knows his answer before the words slip past his dark lips. "I can't, Ellie. I... I can help them. I have to try, no matter the cost."

Anger swirls with sorrow in the Zephyr's chest, slicing into her heart. 'I can't...' she begins, her silver eyes hardening, 'Won't watch you die.'

He feels her weight disappear from his back, feels the air shift from the thrusting of her wings. His blue eyes find her in the sky, her form dark against the light sky and as she disappears, he hears her shriek of complete and utter despair. His own heart cracks but it does little to dissuade him from his path. He can't stand by, knowing he holds a cure, and just let them suffer. When the dark bird disappears completely from his sight, he wills his legs to move and heads west back towards the coast. The open meadow transitions to trees, trees shift to open grass. He keeps moving until his hooves lower into the sands of the Endless Blue. Here, he pauses, allowing his blue gaze to sweep the open beach.

That is when he sees her, a blue mare prancing down by the shoreline. From this distance, though, he can't see the familiar markers of the illness so he approaches far more casually than he may have done otherwise. "Hello there!" he calls to her as he draws near, his voice warm and deep though slightly scratchy. The use of his voice simply irritating the tickle in his throat further, causing him to clear his throat with a muffled 'ahem'. He shifts his course to pull in alongside her as she follows the shoreline. Miykael's blue eyes drift to her face then and when he sees the black tar staining her lips, nose and trickling from her eyes his heart sinks. She seems so joyful, something that left him hoping he'd find her well. He frowns briefly before speaking again, more softly this time in hopes that he could avoid irritating his throat again. "You're sick, too. Do you know where this strange disease comes from?" he asks, hoping that maybe it would offer him a clue.

Image Credits

Sorry for the delay! He'll get to healing her in the next post, I think. :D

RE: a wild child - Tiamat - 10-01-2015

Suddenly there is a voice, a new ribbon of light and color that dances out to her, a soft yellow that weaves through the vibrant blues, greens, and purples of her father’s rhythmic lullaby. Tiamat’s white eyes follow the length of the cadenced streamer—so smooth, so elegant in between the dancing and animated colors that pulsate with every breaking wave—until her attention finally comes to rest on the source. It is a large and beautiful stallion, with eyes that seem to dance like the ribbons that waltz around them, the brilliant beam of day crowning his figure in a glowing halo of light.

“Hello!” The ocean mare calls out to the stranger, amiable and bright, her own voice trilling through the air like the light pattering of rain, flowering bursts of yellows and blues that weave and curve around her legs before dancing out to the stallion in a flourish of color. She laughs as she steps towards him, her muscles seeming to glide in the buoyancy of her delight. “What beautiful wings you have!” Her enraptured exclamation is decorated by the soft pink of wonderment, velvet lips parting in a little ‘o’ of awe as her eyes trace the pristine feathers, so clean and silky in their whiteness, she suddenly has the urge to press her face against their soft down.

Thoroughly entertained by the idea of doing so, the blue mare laughs blithely to herself, tucking her dainty head in towards her chest as though bashful. He draws closer and settles at her shoulder (so distracted is she from her blissful enchantment, that the stallion’s darkened look of concern goes unnoticed), the plumed length of her leonine tail swaying restlessly out behind her in her excitement.

Her pale eyes, having wandered to follow another billowing ribbon of his voice (rougher now at the edges, she notices with their proximity), flicker back to the Pegasus’ face. “Wha—oh! Yes,” Tiamat gives a slow nod of her head. So mesmerized by the enthusiasm of her happiness, the ocean mare had nearly forgotten about the strange virus that infects her body, and she sobers slowly from the euphoria that had lifted her distress. She clings to hope, to goodness, to the faith that this battle of body can be won, even as a fit of coughs has her spraying the black slime in wild dark flecks across the sands.

Blinking against the blurriness of her gaze, she looks to the stranger, her brow knitting together when she notices that he, too, has been infected. On instinct, her heart goes out to him, throbbing and hammering in her desire to help, leaving her with the ugly sense of frustration in her inability to do so. “I’m not sure…but I don’t think it’s native to Helovia—it’s so strange, and anything I’ve tried hasn’t seemed to cure it, or even alleviate the discomfort,” blue lips pucker in her silent disappointment, her long tail lashing in a much more jagged motion.

“Do you think that it could be related to the new lands that the Gods are bringing?” Her voice is much quieter in her contemplation, humming softly. In the innocence of her mind, in the purity of her thoughts, Tiamat cannot possibly imagine that the Gods would intentionally bring this upon them (Gods are meant to protect and guide, are they not?)—or that the foreigners, the Rifters, would either. Surely someone can’t be so cruel as to wish upon anyone such suffering and pain. Exhaling in a rasping and congested breath, the ocean mare blinks away the goop from her eyes and looks back to the stranger, offering him a crooked grin. “My name is Tiamat, by the way.”


img © Malene Thyssen

RE: a wild child - Mortuus Nox - 10-02-2015

Mortuus Nox
Your fears have just become all too real
His maw let out a sigh as he could only see everything as black clouds. The trees around him moved and rolled with the wind. He was in a haze not knowing where he had wondered to. All he knew is he needed to find a cure for this, no matter what it was. He could not stand only seeing black clouds moving around him. Nox had already ran into six trees thinking they were a small bush and every time he would tear the tree 's bark up even more than the first. His temper was flaring as he continued across the hazy ground in front of him. He then moved further and further into this weird land that he had already been to, but he didn't know that.

Then he heard muffled voices in the distance his ears perked up moving closer to the sounds. He knew it was a male and was that Tiamat? He shook his head only seeing black mist and no body shapes. He wondered closer, but kept his distance not wanting to get anyone else sick from this nasty plague. He heard them speaking of wings and then what his disease could be. He had no clue what it was all he knew is it had to GO AWAY. If he ran into one more god damn tree he would cut down the whole forest. Fuck it at this point his head was spinning and the black goo was pouring from his muzzle and eyes.

"Hello, I am sorry but I cant quite see you. I am Mortuus Nox, I know Tiamat has got to be here; I am not familiar with the other voice. You have to excuse me I can only see you as a dark mist. Please tell me you know the cure. I will do anything to be normal again ." His voice pleaded with the stallion, hoping he could fix this black shit oozing from his face. His coughed up a black chunk on the soft sand under him as he looked back to the stallion only seeing a black mist. All he knew is he caught this from someone else with out even touching her, and no more of this shit. Nox had no clue where he was and then he felt like a crazy person running into every tree that was in front of him. A sigh left his maw as he tried to breath from all the black shit being in his lungs. "This Shit needs to go far, far away. I swear if i run into one more tree... All this started when the gods let those people from the Rift come over. Their Magic ill land gave us some crazy shit."

He tired to look to the direction of the stallion, but couldn't tell who was who at this point. All he knew is he hoped Tiamat did not have the same thing, but as long as there was a cure he would be happy. His black head hung low as the substance dripped from his face and onto the ground below him. He was angered at the bitch that gave him this shit, but he ignored it shaking his head only worrying what the stallion was going to say next.

OOC:: He needs to be cured :)
@Miykael @Tiamat
Image Credits!

RE: a wild child - Miykael - 10-09-2015

He reassured their minds by his serenity.
His countenance, wherein his soul was visible,
expressed contempt for danger.

The joyful mare seemed so at home here on the sandy shore, dancing with the ocean as the waves slide in and recede in an endless teasing game. She's beautiful in way that he couldn't quite place. Uniquely different from Alysanne and December, though not in the way that most might think. Yes, she is a unicorn. Yes, Alysanne is a pegasus. And yes, December is an equine. But it isn't their physical differences that he notices. Instead, the differences lie further within, deeper: the heart and soul. The ocean mare's voice trills across the sands to him, lighting up the atmosphere with her delight. She laughs and the sound is so infectious that it pulls a laugh from his own chest; the sound is deep but warm and resonating. He slowly unfurls his wings with her compliment and almost reaches back to pluck one of the feathers. Almost. "Thank you!" he responds, dipping his head briefly in a small bow.

He shifts then, lifts his head back up and folds his wings once more at his sides. For a moment, she seems to grow bashful; tucking her head into her chest and flicking her long, leonine tail behind her. He allowed his blue eyes to shift, then, to look out over the ocean. Soon, the sand is gone. Soon, the healer is lost within the depths of his own mind. Now, he's back in the Edge and standing on the cliffs overlooking the very same ocean. That had been his favorite place, his peaceful place. Though even that had been tainted with time. Tainted by his own foolish mistakes. The mare's voice pulls him back and as his eyes drift to her face once more he notices something has changed. Her infectious, unadulterated joy has faded away and his heart strains against his chest to reach out to her, to make it better. "I'm sorry." he says softly, just barely above a whisper. Sorrow furrows his brows with the knowledge that he'd ruined her delight.

What she says next, however, almost instantly renews the hope he'd felt before. His ears stand erect, alert and fully intent on the mare as she divulges what knowledge she has of the disease. Her declaration about having not found a cure wasn't a surprising one, he'd only stumbled onto one himself, but that means that he can help her and that he can reignite the joy in her heart, bring a smile back to her face and hear her laughter once again. It doesn't even matter that he, himself, will still be sick. What matters is that he can improve her life - even if it only lasts for an hour. "I have healed others with this disease before coming here. I... I can fix it." There is hope in his roughened voice; altered by the thick goo clogging his throat and lungs, making his breath rattle and wheeze. His vision has since blurred, his hearing had grown far more sensitive; allowing him to hear the other stallion coming their way before he ever saw him. In the time that it took for the other stallion to stumble through the trees towards the open shore, Miykael pulled on his magic and focused his warm, soothing light in her chest. He holds it there for several moments before letting it dissipate. The familiar ache throbs within his skull again, but it no longer bothers him as much.

That was when his blue eyes glanced past the blue mare and saw the dark stallion. Miykael remains quiet as the other approaches, though it is clear to him now that he, too, is sick. Exhaling a soft sigh, he flashes a soft smile to Tiamat then turns his attention on the stranger. "Rest easy now. It's all right." he offers once the other male quiets down. "I can help you, just... hold still." he adds, soothingly - or, rather, as soothingly as he can manage with the black goop coating his respiratory tract. Once again, the healer pulls on his magic and focuses the light in the dark stallion's chest. The warm, soothing light spreads, filling his chest. It lingers for a few moments before he lets it go, allowing it to dissipate and pull the sickness from the stranger's body. "How do you both feel?" he asks, kindness and care filling his blue eyes as he glances from one to the other, blatantly ignoring the sharp jabs of pain in his skull.

"I do." he begins, finally acknowledging Tiamat's question. "I do believe this disease has come from the foreign lands the Gods are bringing in. Our own immune systems are not equipped to deal with them since we've never been exposed... until now." he fights back a grimace to refocus on the fact that his magic has helped two more. Slowly, he would help as many as he could. It would take time. Time that he willingly donates to the cause. Miykael shuffles his hooves in the sand, relishing in softness of the fine grains. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm Miykael, a healer from the Hidden Falls." a warm smile graces his features, despite the blackness staining his golden face.


Image Credit

[Sorry for the wait you two! <3]

Mortuus Nox

RE: a wild child - Tiamat - 10-10-2015

Even though the black goop spots her eyes and gathers in their corners to run in slow, horrible tears down her cheeks, there is still light there—hope, optimism, and faith that this will all be over. Somehow, she is sure that the world’s goodness will not fail her. This graciousness, this blessing, comes flowering from the stallion’s lips, flourishing in ribbons of yellow that are seemingly brighter than the sun and pulsating with the brilliant promise of mercy. He speaks of a cure, a remedy to heal. “Really? You can make it go away?” She feels as though she could weep with joy, allowing for herself a fleeting moment of selfishness as she revels in the opportunity, showing for once—one small moment—how terrible this sickness has been.

A quietness settles between them, her white eyes watching the stallion’s face as he concentrates. Tiamat gasps softly when she feels the gentle heat in her chest—she doesn’t know what she had been expecting for him to do—and the warm glow is unfamiliar, new, but completely wonderful. Slowly, she feels her muscles relax as it spreads throughout her body, gradually dissolving the thick slime that sits congested in her throat and eyes. “Magic?” The ocean mare breathes in a whisper, in awe about the phenomenon that she has yet to have any experience with herself.

Exhaling from her nostrils, she sends a final spray of black slime onto the moist sands, coughing a little against the last bit that clings in her throat. Looking up, her gaze follows the pegasus’ out across the shoreline, and she sees a familiar black figure. “Nox!” The ocean mare exclaims, delighted, the sound of her voice bursting in a concluding ribbon of color that soon fades away before it touches the ground. Her dear friend is infected as well, she notices with sorrow as he draws near, her ears tilting back and lips pursing compassionately at his morose cries of frustration.

“Yes, yes I’m here,” she reaches out to him to touch his shoulder gently, her voice nearly a coo as she seeks to comfort him. Looking to the tall, painted stallion when he speaks soothingly to the black unicorn, Tiamat’s features soften into a smile, brightening in anticipation and watching in wonderment as he summons his magic once more. The ocean mare cannot feel it this time, but her heartbeat quickens in delight for the miracle nonetheless. What a beautiful gift!

With the length of her leonine tail curving in her pleasure, the blue mare glances briefly to Nox, her eyes tracing his face to see the tension leave as the infection does, happy that he doesn’t have to suffer anymore. Looking back to the winged stranger, her eyes are glistening with the threat of tears—tears of joy and appreciation. “Like I can breathe again! Oh, it’s wonderful,” her voice is a blissful, airy sigh of relief, and she lets slip another chime of laughter. She feels buoyant once more, her spirits lifted and soaring—she nearly feels as though she could fly! “Thank you,” Tiamat praises the beautiful stranger earnestly, happily, and reaches out to brush her cheek against his in a gesture of friendship.

Their conversation continues, and the ocean mare’s brow furrows thoughtfully. “That makes sense—there have been many new things happening lately; I think the whole of Helovia has been affected, in more ways than one,” her voice becomes a little somber by the end, her thoughts drifting to the wars and the hate. It makes her so sad, to think of such things plaguing them. She welcomes the new Rifters, of course, but must these new lands come at such an ugly price? Surely, there must be another way.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miykael—thank you again,” her smile returns, soft and sincere. Tiamat knows that she will not be able to thank him enough for his kindness, for his mercy, but she intends to do all she can to show her appreciation. Already, he has done so much, and she admires him for that. “A healer, you say?” The mare’s countenance brightens, “Nox and I are healers as well! We’re from the Aurora Basin.” She gestures to the black stallion with a breezy chuckle, sharing a smile with him before her attention returns to Miykael.

There are so many questions that bubble excitedly to her tongue—to share their knowledge and their experiences!—but her enthusiasm is suddenly curbed when she notices that the black goop still leaks from his eyes and nose. “But…what about yourself? How can you be healed?” Her voice drops in concern, genuine despite their unfamiliarity with one another, wanting nothing but for him to feel the relief that he has to graciously given to her.


img © Malene Thyssen

RE: a wild child - Mortuus Nox - 10-12-2015

Mortuus Nox
Your fears have just become all too real
He let a sigh out as the black shit oozed from his mouth and every orris of his face. He heard Tiamat speak up and say that she was in fact there with them. He let relief flood his face as he could now put a face to one of the black mists standing in front of him. His tail flicked listening to what the male had to say. He told him to ease and he will try to fix his disease. How would he fix this thing that plagued both him and Tiamat? Then he finally heard the relief of her voice as she thanked the stag greatly for curing her.

Then he felt the warmth in his chest, the magic flowed through his body pulsing in his veins. Then the haze of darkness started to shine with light, and the clouds of mist were starting to take from of horses. His eyes blinked out the rest if the black gunk, and his chest rumbled like Tiamat's. A chunk of black thick shit flew from his mouth and onto the ground next to the ocean mares. His eyes widened with relief as he finally got to gaze upon the stag that cured them. He was a brilliant paint with extravagant wings upon his sides. Nox smiled greatly at the stallion "I can not thank you enough for your kindness in healing us. I really appreciate everything that you did. Thank you... It's ... Gone " His Latin voice rumbled in his deep chest as the words spilled from his mouth.

His maw smiled as he turned to finally muzzle Tiamat with a friendly hello. Oh how he loved this ocean mare, she made him feel the warmth in the sun. Then his gray eyes looked back to the stallion as he finally introduced himself, and he was a healer. Interesting maybe they can gather knowledge from this stallion to help the basin. Tiamat introduced her self explaining that they were healers of the Basin. His eyes flicked back and forth from the two for a brief moment. Then he noticed that the stag was cursed with the same black shit that he healed them from. How does he have it, when he can cure them from this nasty black goop.

"There has to be a way that you can get cured, or cure your self..." he trailed off thinking of ways that they could try to help him. What if he reflected his own magic back at himself that would work right? The eerie stag seemed calm and normal at this time due to his gratitude to this winged man. His eyes wondered above to the warm sun as the ocean lapped over the tan beach. His thick tresses flicked across his back as he thought about some things. "If you don't mind I am sure Tiamat would love to learn some of your healing ways. I know that sparks my interest. Even if it would be after we figure out how to cure you from this black shit. We would love to learn from you." He looked to Tiamat with a smile as he waited to see what the stag would say.
@Random Event to be cured of GLL
Image Credits!

RE: a wild child - Random Event - 10-12-2015

Tiamat and Mortuus Nox are cured of GLL!

RE: a wild child - Miykael - 10-25-2015

He reassured their minds by his serenity.
His countenance, wherein his soul was visible,
expressed contempt for danger.

The blue mare's hope and joy lingers despite the disease marring her beautiful face and it's simply infectious - absorbing into the depths of his soul and reflecting back out towards her. She is the light and he the mirror. He'd seen such deeply rooted cheer only once before but time wore her down, he almost single-handedly destroyed it. It had been unintentional, of course, but it made him hesitant to reach out to her, to absorb and subsequently snuff out her brilliant light. "Really." he replies with warmth and without any further hesitation, he goes to work. Healing has never been painless for him but he wouldn't have it any other way. To heal without consequence would somehow feel... wrong. Like he is somehow more connected to the God or Gods than he really is or that, on some level, he is nearly as powerful as they are. Transferring a bit of their pain to himself is more of a reminder of his own mortality. A reminder that he isn't an angel anymore and by his own choice. A reminder, then, of the events leading up to his fall from grace.

But he wasn't like the rest of them. He wasn't falling out of greed or power. He fell because he wanted to help in ways that he wasn't allowed to because divine intervention is rare. Perhaps it all stems back to his youth and that fateful day he failed to protect his father's lands. Yet it is so difficult to pinpoint the beginning of his selflessness. The trait is so ingrained into him that to be selfish feels unnatural, wrong. The blue mare's breathy whisper tickles his ears and pulls him from the depths of his own mind. Ignoring his own pain, he tucks it away to keep it from clouding his features and worrying her. Instead, he simply smiles. "Yes." he begins, breathing as deeply as his lungs can manage of the salty ocean air, fresh and crisp. "It's a gift from the Sun and the Moon. These foreign diseases appear to be affected almost exclusively by magic." he muses, though falling silent as Nox draws near. Once again, he gets to work and once again he brings relief to another while absorbing some pain into himself.

Her own light grows brighter then, almost blindingly so, and though it pulls at him he resists. He shows them nothing but kindness and warmth; all polite smiles and caring words. "You're quite welcome, both of you." And they really wouldn't understand the depth of his own gratitude. Their praise, though, is almost too much. And when she moves towards him and the flesh of her cheek meets with his, he has to fight to resist leaning into her touch. He accepts it, trying so hard to not stare at the soft curve of her neck and even harder to keep his hooves planted in the sand. He cannot devour her light, cannot destroy her like he did Alysanne. He is thankful when she moves back, thankful when the conversation takes a turn towards something more somber (even though he cannot stand to see her light quelled by any negative emotion.) The expansion and the wars that seemed to follow had been hard on Helovia. Hard enough that Miykael couldn't help but to question the point to expanding Helovia. Were the gods expanding out of greed or some drastic misuse of their power? Miykael could only guess, but his best guess left a sour taste in his mouth.

Miykael shrugs it off, allowing the negative feelings to roll from his shoulders and sink to the ground. Holding onto it would only serve to hold him back and keep him down - neither of which would be conducive to continuing his work as a healer. So when Tiamat speaks again, everything about her brightening again like a little sun, he can't help but to smile. "Wonderful! It's always nice to meet fellow healers." and he is nothing short of genuine, bright blue eyes flicking between the two. "I've never been to the Basin, though my companion and I have frequently traveled north. The northern lights from the Steppe are a sight to see." he adds, reminiscing on the fond memories he'd shared with Eliana there. He'd encountered a few there, though the only one that could bring a frown to his face is finding December freezing in a cave. "Perhaps we can learn from each other." he agrees, with a gentle smile. "Ask me anything you'd like, but please... don't fret over me. I'll be fine, I promise." To a certain extent, he was grateful for the easy conversation, it allowed him time to rest before moving on to find more suffering from this disease. And with more expansions sure to follow, there'd be more diseases and more searching for a cure. Perhaps he would work himself to death before this is all over but at least he'd die with a smile on his face knowing he'd helped.


Image Credit

This is late and it's awful and I'm sorry! D: The SWP posts are eating my life and muse right now.
@Mortuus Nox

RE: a wild child - Tiamat - 11-01-2015

The ocean mare’s gaze shifts to the scarred black stallion when she feels his muzzle stroke her shoulder, the line of her lips softening into a warm smile. It brings her great happiness to not only feel the relief herself, but to know that her friend is no longer suffering as well. Already he seems more at ease, the ornery lines of his face dissipating into the pensive and thoughtful expression that she has become used to—perhaps even more blissful than usual, which makes her smile all the wider. She has thought intermittently of him since their encounter in Heavenly Fields, his dark words swirling like shadows, but it is never long before the goodness and graciousness she sees in him rise to chase her doubts away. More than ever before, he needs her to be an understanding friend, and she doesn’t intend to let him down.

With a tulip-shaped ear tilting at Miykael’s deep voice, her eyes soon follow to rest on his face. Her expression brightens when he mentions the northern parts of Helovia, her heart longing for home and its familiar mountainous valley, of the magnificence there, and the family that rests in its safety. It hurts her for a moment, to think that the winged stallion has never had an opportunity to gaze upon the Basin’s splendor. Knowing nothing of her precious home’s exclusivity, she wonders why he hasn’t taken the chance upon himself—but the thought flees as quickly as it had come. She has never seen any of the other herd lands herself, after all, so how could she expect as such from others?

In any case, Tiamat is perhaps more than a little biased when it comes to the Basin (not for the judgement or prejudice of others, of course, but for the absolute perfection and beauty that she sees in those snowy mountains, its dark secrets kept hidden from her innocent eyes). Almost from the moment she had awaken along the shores of Helovia, having been approached by the kindly brown mare, the Basin has been a home and a haven for her. She only wants everyone else to feel the same peace, happiness, and acceptance that she has felt.

“The Basin is a beautiful place,” the ocean mare sighs wistfully, her gaze trailing to the blue heavens before it snaps back to the painted stallion, a sudden rush of excitement in her eyes. “And the northern lights, yes! What a phenomenon of nature, like the stars have come out to play in color. It’s truly breathtaking, isn’t it?” There is laughter laced into the buoyancy of her voice, enchanting memories dancing into her mind’s eye as she imagines the cool ribbons of color, her sister stars seeming to prance through the night in their merriment, and she delights in their bliss. “Perhaps we will see you up there sometime, and enjoy them together,” she casts Miykael a smile before she is forced to drop her gaze, cheeks warming in bashfulness. Truly, it is more enjoyable to share such beautiful moments with someone.

Brushing the length of her leonine tail over the ground, Tiamat lifts her attention to Nox when he mentions learning from each other, the idea soon echoed by Miykael. “Yes! Oh please, if you wouldn’t mind. I would love to exchange knowledge,” she brightens once more, her slender body nearly quivering in her enthusiasm. Tiamat loves to learn, study, and teach—especially when it concerns healing, the calling that has grasped her heart so tightly and so deeply, she can’t remember a time when she was not driven by it.

Smiling broadly, white teeth flashing beneath the light of the sun, she looks to both of the stallions. “Although I’ll admit,” her demeanor slowly sobers a little, “I have no abilities with magic myself.” Eventually her eyes find their way back to the winged stallion, lingering along the black slime that oozes from his nose and coagulates in his eyes, and her heart hurts, wanting only to see him receive what he has given to them. She knows his pain. Pressing her lips together and exhaling heavily from her nostrils, Tiamat shifts her weight before speaking again. “Are you sure you’ll be alright, Miykael? I don’t think there is anything we can do to repay you for your kindness…we are truly grateful. Do you know of anyone who can cure you?” She doesn’t mean to go against his wishes and continue to fret—but she simply can’t help herself—and both her concern and appreciation are obvious in her expression.


img © Malene Thyssen