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[O] blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Printable Version

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blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Lena - 04-20-2013

Welcoming; the ambience of change, swift, sure and strong, an alteration in the seams that always brought forth kindred, rapturous spirits. Within the basking trace of aria and song, the dance of salutation, sanctuary and reception, ruins were forgotten, weights tarnished and tossed, armaments of bliss scattered amongst the grave journeys that ushered the taut deliverance. Woven into chords of lace and taffeta, sleek and durable, tired and true, new life trickled into familiarity, ran rampant next to archaic streams, flourished from hesitancy, blossomed from the unknown, that charted, graced and polished. Gloom abandoned, ferocity disregarded, sin scorched, burying chains of atrocity into the lament of another time, archaic denizens, recognizing the satin motions of freedom. Liberation, release, from the wear and tear of yesterday’s predicaments and sullied, broken tirades, breathing dulcet croons and hymns from the sanguine lips of augured nymphs. Like she, they would sew their hearts into the land, give their trust, their guidance, their companionship to the winter, to the wind, to the earth and sky, cherish and devote, persevere and unite. Despite their vivid differences, their candid personalities that whispered from deadly hallows, crushed tranquil trances or smiled amidst the wildest of dreams, they all crooned, murmured and twisted beneath the same sun, along the same kingdom, intertwined in the mass of the Siberian sovereignty. This time, like so many moments before, she brought another to join in the crowd of lingering forces, the persistent, the sturdy, and the stalwart. A child of the rain, a scion of water, a daughter born from regality and liquid, the gentle and compassionate Tiamat, was added to their pride, notched into their scars and triumphs, their conquests and losses, to grow, to achieve, to dance in the wind and drown the earth in her breathless waltz.

The afternoon chill of the Aurora greeted them fondly, the cold, cool slip of appreciation wound around their bodies, a delighted tempest fallen to soil to regard its followers. The sylph’s eyes strayed once across the horizon, caught the faintest traces of snow lingering, pressing, promising and conveying its raw sentiments, then to the following girl. Would she enjoy this world, of ice, rime, beauty and danger? Would she be allured, beguiled, tempted by its elegance, overwhelmed by its temptations? Would she claim its threshold to her brow, to her heart, to her soul, press it against her entity until she too was encased in the splendor of its majesty? Her wonder piqued, her curiosity incensed, her interest prevailed, but never stirred across her tongue. She’d rather the earth revere and admire the intrigue of Tiamat’s presence, of her dependable nature, of her unwavering faith, then calculate the uncertainty, the doubt, of the future. Instead, her masterful grin curled along her lips, a soft, gentle hum extended towards the heavens, towards the skies, to amass in the ears of the rain filly. “Welcome to the Aurora Basin.” Imogen, tracing the heels of her companion, came behind the addressed fey and chirped, extending her own blessing to the delightful harpsichords that rang amongst the biting air.

[First Tiamat, then anyone. ;D]

where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Tiamat - 04-21-2013

we run like a river runs to the sea</style>

     It is... different.

     The first thing that the young mare notices is the complete and utter coldness of the land- the vast expanses of white. With each inhalation she feels a chill much more frigid than that of the usual Orangemoon air spread through her entire figure. Her heart seems to beat more slowly; perhaps it is due to the way that time stretches as she takes in the calculating beauty of her new home, or perhaps it is the chilling of her blood as it dawns upon her that her life is going to change completely and suddenly right at this very moment.

     Her cloven hooves, so used to gripping the sands of the warm shore, slide and scrape against the icy and unfamiliar ground. Her white eyes look up towards the frozen mountains that frame the basin valley and her lips part slightly in a gesture of unaware awe. Though she shivers in the icy air and must stand firmly against the mountain wind, she feels a warm joy in her breast. This is home.

     Without realizing, she presses onward and deeper into the new ice-coated world and into the dazzling newness of the Basin. The midday sun, high above, casts a gentle light over the expanse and reflects off the water. The water- Tiamat does all that she can to stop herself from running forward towards the Basin's central lake and then beyond it to the sea. A visit to her father can wait; for now it is her mother's careful gaze that she wanders beneath.

     Standing a few feet beyond from where Lena speaks, the young buckskin turns her delicate face back to catch the older, kind mare's eyes with her own. When she speaks her breath becomes a cloud of vapor; when she waves her tail in her wake, she stirs up the cold dust of frost.

     "Thank you for bringing me home."


RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - d'Artagnan - 05-03-2013

Soft pads of a of an overly curious pup were quick and agile against the hard ground of the Basin, it was afternoon and the sun was slowly beginning to make it's way back to bed and bit by bit the shadows lengthened. It was time for the Nightshade and his guard dog to awaken from slumber and walk the land they had come to call home. Maybe later, when night had fallen, they would venture out into the darkness of the world and bend their paths to places lesser known with danger lurking on each dark turn. It was then the Doctor came alive and the sparks of fire were once again lit in his soul. For now, the duo began their duties by steadily walking around the whole of the Basin, looking for members who maybe in need or just something that might be of interest to him. It was rare, but it happened and it was a good way to get his aging bones up and running for the long night ahead. He set off, a stamp of red against the backdrop of huddled mountains, making his way slowly from his cave and out across the ground that had patches of snow where the sun couldn't quite reach. Aramis had already bounded on ahead, little dot of a nose pointed downwards and already working on the scents that had been left behind.

The pair carried on like this for sometime, stopping now and then to take a crop of grass or allow the pup to attempt another hunt. There was nothing really noteworthy until the hellhound caught scent of something new on the cold breeze and bounded off in the direction, startling a few birds into a frenzy of squawks in his sudden movement. d'Artagnan watched for a moment as the pointed tail disappeared around a corner before finally he began to trot after him, crimson ears curved forward to catch any drops of conversation before he got there. His stride was firm as he marched on until finally he came across the familiar appearance of Lena and another mare who he had not yet met. Aramis had stopped a little way from them, tail thrashing from side to side, but his expression was one of uncertainty as he eyed the blue coloured femme.

The Nightshade quickly concluded that if Lena had brought this child here then there was really nothing to worry about. His fellow Nurse may have a disposition that made him want to vomit, but he couldn't deny her trustworthiness. He walked forward then, his gait relaxed as he head swung naturally from side to side, eying the filly with curiosity before turning to Lena and nodding in kind greeting. "Hello Lena" he said simply in his gruff tones to the gentle bay, acknowledging the mare with one of his rare friendly smiles. Aramis had already spotted the kitsune and was lowering himself into a crouch with his bum in the air and his tail playfully flicking from side to side.

Finally the Mender turned his attention to the filly, a fellow horned brethren and a new addition to their huge family. The corners of his grey lips curled into a half smile as he noted she was not much different in age to his own daughter Aviya. The future of their herd looked bright with so many young faces, may it stay that way and grow stronger in time. "You're a youthful one! I am d'Artagnan, the Time Mender of your new home. What might I call you?" He rather brusquely put to her. Conversation never really came easy to him, though he was slowly getting better at it, he just hoped his face wouldn't scare the youngster away and she would see the sincerity in his words.

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Lena - 05-05-2013

Pleasantries warmed the cooler air, caused them to sing, to hum, to bolster the spirits as they scrambled, rampant, down the course of dished cheeks and wholesome hearts. The coldness, the stark, desolate chill, was another sanctuary, a reminder of home, of weeks and months spent amongst brethren, warding off the sting of defeat, brandishing smiles when they were given a segment, a piece, of forgiveness in the windswept arms of the Aurora and her Basin. Newcomers are not given the story of their sacrifice, of their demise, of remnants of pride scattered to destroyed eaves, of their torrents and tumults, of their victories and subsequent ruins. Instead, they were treated to the clamor of the veiled air, sweet and nurturing, nipping and biting, embraced by the mountainside, the valleys, the lakes and frozen fixtures of opulence, of grandeur. Lena didn’t spill any of the tale from her lips, did not pour the rancor, the bitterness, of the legend into the parade, and merely settled into the rapture of the cordial, amicable day, how lucky she, and everyone else, were to be residing in a world they could cherish, restore, and revitalize once more. Home, a wonderful chord of jubilation, glee and hope, fostered into silken threads of phoenix ashes, rising, reborn, persevering, strong, mighty and glorious. Perhaps Tiamat, daughter of rain and clouds, would find the mystery, the ambience, the enigmatic swing of each lyrical hum to be a wholesome push into divinity and the sublime, to encompass and cherish the dominion of their newfound distinction, bolster the prestige, heighten the resplendence and majesty of the kingdom they all shared. Gentled, mellifluous and intrigued, the nymph, sylph, fey and fairy, cast her eyes upon her elemental counterpart and smiled again, the steady, everlasting grin. If Tiamat was the ocean, could she be the song of the sky? If Tiamat was a mermaid, could she be a bird? Could they hum together in the beat, in the twist, of coming days? A hymn bubbled in her throat, a murmuring, divine note that enlightened the horizon, blanketing the soothing sounds of wind and day. “You’re welcome.” She drank in an interlude, watched the world of rime, ice and caverns, of mysteries never to be found, of secrets never to be heard, offered her vocals again in a serenade of well-wishes, enthusiasm and intrigue. “Would you like a tour?”

Another is fetched from the reign of the Orangemoon, a familiar individual, who, despite the imminent distinction of his presaged essence, she still kindled a smile for. She lowered her head in a regal gesture to the Time Mender, one whose horn was made of glass but not his body, not his heart, not his soul, bending it gracefully towards her chest, then regaining her former posture thereafter. She studied him kindly, a graceful nuance fluttering in the background, like sentiments of an old friend lost to the entities of space and time. He’d been a foundation of the Edge, and now only cemented the notion further along the Basin, winding his magic and poison into the air, the fabric, the tapestries and shadows. He was precious to them, a trusted ally, a formidable Doctor, encased in livelihood, in legend, and in price. She’d been one of the few to fetch him from the depths of sand and soot after his abduction, when their world had already been crushed and snatched. Perhaps this was why he bestowed her an uncommon grin, and she took it as a token of kinship, allowed hers to grow wider. Her voice ignited again, waltzing, lilting, a soothing aria that whispered over the ages of a kingdom lost to them. “D’Artagnan.” The songbird became silent then, allowed the queries to be answered to whom they were directed upon, and instead watched tiny Imogen crouch and float amongst the other companion. The kitsune, attempting to be crafty, lowered her frame amongst the reverie of long grasses, but forgot the twitching ivory tails, bending and swaying in amusing mimicry.

where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Tiamat - 05-09-2013

we run like a river runs to the sea</style>

     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.


RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - d'Artagnan - 05-09-2013

Women. Why did he always feel uncomfortable around women?! It was like he was waiting for one of those hard to meet stares and questions that were excruciatingly difficult to answer. He blamed Kou for this unreasonable discomfort. No matter how he approached a conversation with her she'd always manage to get him on the back foot. Forever reeling for words that would never come to save him from the embarrassment that would slowly creep it's way through his body. He blamed her lovingly of course, but all the same, she was a beautiful little minx. Yet, he had to take most of the blame for wondering into the company of the females anyway. The Doctor watched Lena with the same caution he gave to all mares, but still smiled when she returned his greeting with her soothing tones. Quickly searching his mind for a conversation starter that wasn't going to lead off into something he couldn't handle, already recognizing the fact of how much the mare population liked to waffle on about the strangest of things.

"Have you been well?" he asked of the mare with brown hues. It was a safe enough question, in the Nightshade's eyes anyway. He wasn't quite sure why he was trying to make conversation with these two, had his boredom really got that bad?! Probably. Though d'Artagnan would always be aware that he owed Lena for coming to save him from the cursed land of sun and sand, if she ever needed him for anything, he would loyally help her. Finally he turned back to the blue youth, noting her strange name as she answered him in low tones; Tiamat. He rather enjoyed the way she spoke to him, in tones of honour, she was a fine child if a little too shy for his taste.

Though he was impressed by the azure Tiamat so he inclined his head and nodded warmly, attempting to diminish the presence he unconsciously carried with him everywhere. It was rare, in the Doctor's eyes, to find a mind so willing at such a young age and it pleased him to see such promise within the herd. "Welcome then Tiamat, I wish you well and luck as apart of the Basin herd. Is there something you wish to study, an interest maybe?" He understood if she did not, at such a young age it was understandable if one did not quite know which path they wanted to follow. Though it was a duty that came with his rank to ask such questions of the new recruits and pass their answers back to Psyche should they wish to take up a certain rank.

He fell silent then, awaiting a grand tour and watching Aramis creep on his belly closer and closer to Imogen. His tail still rapidly wagging from side to side with golden eyes glinting with an unasked question to try tempt the kitsune into playing with him. Growling in a playful manner with curly ears curved happily forwards when the many tailed fox danced amongst the grass in her crafty ways. The Hellhound bounding after her, using his soft pads in attempt to playfully bat her floating tails.

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Lena - 05-16-2013

They were at peace with the listless, languid tranquility, ethereal repose and calm sanctuary, tender solitude from the roughened edges and sharpened barbs drifting at their doors. Warmth to repel the chill, cordiality to avert cretins, benevolence and amiability to quell the animosity, the acrimony, a billowing courtship of allayed, assuaged strength. With the wilderness pulsing in their midst, with the bravado, the touch, the mysticism of the Basin laced and woven beneath their feet, they were augured prowess, heralded enigmas, scorched and marred by filaments of yesterday, grasping their renewed valor for tomorrow. Lena enjoyed setting her sights upon the Siberian horizon, then back upon her companions, witnessing as they molded into the backdrop of persistence, perseverance and tenacity, fine strings of unbroken hymns, chants and songs. She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but in the presence of comrades, their backs to the wind, their noble heads craning to the eaves, to the skies, christened, graced, portended for some lofty goal upon their icy mantle. She had no doubt one day they would rise to the shining pinnacle, for whatever they wished, for whatever they yearned for, for whatever they desired, designed and sculpted in the fabric of their minds. Tiamat, with her elegant, sweeping hands of rain and dew, touching the world with her watery trance, her willowy intelligence, her youthful gaze, the Doctor, with his medicines and incantations, prescribing, nurturing, healing, tending and mending to the broken, the scarred, the injured. For herself, she remained unsure – she could sing, she could dance, she could strum the sinuous chords of a harp, a flute, a bird, lead them into serenity, kindle the stubborn traits of a bold heroine, but in contentment, she offered and bestowed the primordial sentiments of her charms and whimsical follies.

The Time Mender seemed uncomfortable, an awkward stance, features pulled into avenues of escape, but he still returned her smile, so her fostered grin became even more embellished, wild, fey, the essence of another otherworldly beast meant for dreams, meant for frolics, meant for untamed magnetism and allure. Her voice brimmed in a bright, gleaming tone, friendly and affable, the token affection of someone she’d consider a friend. “Yes. And yourself?” For she was well, no longer breaking off into segments of decay, no longer withering, no longer wailing to the silent requiems of her lamentable anguish. She had nothing to complain about, she had naught to dissuade her from the life she forged, carved and composed. Her happiness billowed and puffed around her in tangible waves, in the ebullient course of her frame, in the pride she claimed when she brought another creature to their valley. Her attention was drawn back to the aforementioned, the daughter of earth and sky, and the nymph watched as Tiamat’s eyes were caught and ensnared in delight, then to the shores of the reservoir, where the water glistened, where the rolling current seemed to call her home, onward and upward. A warble echoed from her smooth vocals, a tease tangled in the midst of newfound patriots. “Perhaps the lake first?”

Motions ensued, a dance, a whirl of movement, finery tipping into the wind, gathered in an exotic flourish of rapid finesse and poise towards the siren banks. Back into their elements, she modeled, shaped, cast the filaments of her careful, methodical reverie; the rapture of bliss that beckoned, invited, pursued her friends. She would paint the Basin as she envisioned it, regal, arcane, secretive, untamable and beautiful, showing them the heralded courtyards of mysteries and opulence, of splendor, of wonder, of vast, wide-open resplendence. Imogen followed, swirled and turned, a stream of ivory and blue, tails chasing after blades of grass – then the young Hellhound. She swayed into the tendrils of flora and back out again, batting back at his ears, chirping and warbling her own playful sensibilities.

where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Tiamat - 05-17-2013

we run like a river runs to the sea</style>

     The time mender, it seems, is interested in more than just her name. Shyly she bends her nose to brush against her knees, nuzzling the patches of a slick, thickening coat as she lets the sensation of being welcomed wash over her. She is unused to such kindness in strangers; it is not that she has not expected it, simply that she can't ever remember encountering it before meeting this pair. Her life as she knows it has been full of familiarity and the comfort of her family, everything else seems foreign, and in its own way intimidating.

     But she won't be swayed. D'Artagnan is, as she gathers, kind and intelligent. She knows it would be foolish to reduce herself to a blundering mess before him, and so she straightens up. Behind her, her long and delicate tail brushes side to side across the snow, betraying the effort she puts into appearing capable and confident. "Thank you sir, I am happy to be counted among these ranks," she says cleanly, nodding her head in a gesture respectful appreciation. She is, after all, thankful; their kindness is not something that she thinks herself entitled to in any way. She lets herself ponder, for a moment, the possible areas of study. She has never been in a herd, not that she can recall, and the idea of a certain path to follow within its hierarchy is new and exciting. "I think... I think I would like to learn to help others," she begins, the slight, hesitant quivering of her voice impossible to hide, but not something she cares to mask regardless. It is true, she realizes; more than anything she wants to give back to those in this home, who have treated her so kindly and with such tender care already. "Is that what you do, as mender?" Her question is carefully worded, accented by a tilt of her slender head to the side and a cocking of her ears forward to listen to whatever his response may be.

     She falls silent then, awaiting his reply and listening with care to the interaction between the dark mare and the mender. When Lena speaks of the lake, Tiamat's heart leaps in excitement, but her obedience extends to self discipline. Though Lena has begun to lead them towards the lake at last, Tiamat contains her excitement and instead tucks her chin to her chest. Her fluid movement extends into an easy trot as she bridges the gap between herself and the center of the territory. The cold wind dances about her and the faint wisps of dry, cold grasses brush between her legs as she waltzes forth. As the water tugs at the shore, she nickers gleefully and lowers her carved features to meet the waterside. "I've missed you, brother," she whispers into the waters, unaware of whether or not her words might be picked up by her company. Her breath tickles the cold, icy mirror of the lake, and she turns back to Lena. "It is beautiful here," she speaks, louder now and with an untamed bewilderment about herself. A haze of delight, of hushed reverie, washes over her and fills her eyes with a bright shine of one possessed by awe. She sees peace where others may see a barren wasteland. How strange it is, she thinks, that other might not see the wonder of this land.

[[I'm still getting used to Tiamat and the way she thinks, so I apologize for any weirdness. x3]]


RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - d'Artagnan - 05-18-2013

d'Artagnan had lost count of the amount of times he felt the urge to swallow in his own uneasiness. Cloven hooves grinding against the surface as he struggled to get his body to simply stand still under the pressure of conversation. It recent months, in the quiet of peace, he'd found himself getting more and more confined to his caves. His only contact being with his family or shouting at intruders. In fact, he seemed to spend most of his life either talking to himself of pissed off at others and it was really beginning to take a toll on his social skills. Or what little he had of them to start with. Yet, he mustered all of his bravery and lingered on with the two women, forcing himself to make idle conversation and have a little more understanding about those who were his herd mates. Tail slapped against his hocks and his shuffling around continued, crimson ears swivelled to catch the sweet words of Lena who expressed her wellness and enquired after his own. He turned to her and nodded once with a brief smile.

"I have been well, Lena" he said as kindly as his brusque voice could manage. Genuinely happy that she was in good health and honest in his own reply. Life was not too bad, a little boring if you were to ask the shade, but not terrible. Children seemed to be the main thing happening to him at the minute. Kou was simply blooming and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. Peace was not so bad, if only he felt more sure about the future. About the future his children had before them. If anything he wanted to protect them, the same emotion may have extended to Mesec if he had not walked from the land that he should've called home. With all the anguish of the Moon Goddess and her betrayal, d'Artagnan could not find the forgiveness in his heart that should be easy to give to his child. No matter how infallible the masses thought him to be, there was a part of the Nightshade that was experiencing pain and uncertainty. Mesec was bearing the brunt of this.

He could slowly feel the awkwardness descend on him then and he swallowed for what must have been the tenth time, looking down to observe the way his hooves were cracked through the middle. Lena spoke once more and suggested showing her around the lake and to that d'Artagnan nodded, his cave was not too far from the lake that never froze. He could follow them there and then return back to his brooding. As Lena began to move he followed after her, turning his attention back to Tiamat. She still speaks with formality, addressing him as Sir instead of simply d'Artagnan. Yet, the Mender was impressed with her clear way of talking amongst strangers and listened carefully to her words.

"Correct, I help those of this herd with ailments they may possess. Lena also helps me do this job, you are welcome to join the healing ranks if that is what you truly want to do." He said simply and approving of her request to join the healers. He purposefully left out the poisoning part of his job. Not many knew his dual role, those who did were either apart of the plague or dead. Maybe ignorance was safer than knowing too much.

Time passes by until finally they arrive at the lake and d'Artagnan turns his head to one side when he notices the change in Tiamat's personality. She spoke to it like the liquid before her was apart of her family, at least that's what it sounded like to the Nightshade, though she was whispering. He could've heard her wrong. He smiles and gazes off in the direction of his cave with a longing in his eyes. "Do you ladies need me for anything? If not, I have some things I need to see to" his longing lacing into the last of his words as he tore his gaze away from the cave's direction and back to the mares.

RE: blossom passing fair [Tiamat/Open] - Lena - 06-02-2013

The nymph peered into the depths of the lake, admired its brilliance, its steadfast valor in the arts and covenants of darkness, relished its beauty, and revered its staunch, stalwart bravado in the face of frozen peaks and valleys. To share shelter amongst its sanctuary was another blessing she’d yet to become thankful for, and so accomplished this in silent rapture, closing her eyes amongst the webbing, the tangle, of its rippling rivulets and currents. The arctic wind ruffled her tresses, combed through her mane, tangling it into the enigmatic twists and turns of the Basin, plaiting the roughened barbs and thorns into further wonder, further intrigue, further mystique. A content sigh passed through her lungs and hung in a tender vapor amongst the chilling air, because this was peace, this was tranquility, this was serenity, companions, new and old, joined and endeavored towards the warmth, the solidarity, of their kingdom. The ivory kitsune batted at the water, foolish and carefree, adrift too in the majesty, the splendor, the resplendence of reticent, intrepid, undaunted sovereignty. Lena opened her cordial, honeyed gaze to cheerfully glance at the youthful Tiamat, whispering her secrets and furtive, sweet nothings to the breeze, to the shoal, to the reservoir bound in her heart. She refused to listen to the muttered words, allowed the girl to encase those newfound promises into the kingdom without the notion of prying, of eavesdropping, of scattering ancient runes to discovery and exploration. Only when addressed did she utter phrases and sonnets, curling the repose into song and spirit, languishing the earth with its perilous elegance, its luminous power. “Yes, it is.”

She listened to their brief conversation, however, when it changed to interests and studies. Lena had found hers in swift, quick alterations, had fathomed and recognized her calling from Emissary, and when diplomacy faded from their pursuits, to mending. Only when pushed, only when bound, only when shoved into battle could she become a warrior, and she lacked the ambitious qualms, the satisfactory mind to enact weaving tendencies. There was only assuaging, only healing, only soothing armaments for her now, carried by waves of song, satin and lyrics, stanzas carefully woven through hums, warbles, trills and ditties, concocted to an aria that lavished the grandeur of her aspirations, goals and dreams. The child wanted this too – the ability to help others, to cure, to repair and restore, stitch and patch until renewal was glorified, breathless and forgotten, donned and dawned for a new day, a new venture. The sylph smiled again at the cerulean youngster, played the harmonious harpsichord fastened to her vocals. “You may always seek us for guidance.” And when the Time Doctor hastened a sturdy retreat, she almost thought to laugh, truthfully, he had stayed a great while in their company, had been inviting, welcoming, and every bit as genial, obliging, and gracious. Perhaps they’d conjured and held too much of his passing hours, and likely he had more pressing things to conquer and consume. The sienna Nurse offered him a friendly bow, and Imogen chirped in turn to the Hellhound, a fond farewell in the midst of comrades. “If you must go, we won’t keep you. Thank you for accompanying us.”

where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com