A dance of the successful, armed and emboldened by a recent recruitment from the Threshold, incensed her boldness, her elegant waltz, her finessed, radiant minuet. Courting the legacies of merriment, she twisted beneath the day’s fine, cold salute, the whispers of the chilling wind, beckoned again and again into the zealous, ardent hills and valleys, mountains and crowns. A small bounty of collected characters, she, Imogen and the apprehensive Tyra, strung closer and closer to the depths of wintry salvation, deliverance, eternal, singsong beauty, treachery only slinking and sliding into the perils of slippery glaciers or endless desolation. She wondered as they chiseled their sights upon the rimed borders, queries igniting a wild, amiable caress in her generous mind: would Tyra be at ease here? Would she see the ferocity and be possessed by its strength, endurance, fortitude and might? Would she view the potency, the clarity, the divinity, the fortress and be inspired to offer her loyalties to the Siberian nation? Or would she flee from its cavernous wiles, its carnivorous, predatory, voracious appetite, be swallowed by the audacious splendor, the meticulous opulence, devoured until there was naught left but the inner chambers of her swift, beating heart? Would she grab hold of the hurricane of their absolution, aligned and affixed to the tangible qualities, to the exotic foundations, to the prowess, the power? The nymph longed to erase the doldrums, the anxieties, lined into the drapery of the argent mare with her gilded eyes, give her more golden armor to chisel across her lungs, along her soul, aligning stars to ardent enamel.

For now, vixen and fairy presented her to the tapestry, the oeuvre, the masterpiece, of winter, of audacity, of endurance and perseverance, trapped into the alluring abyss; at once forlorn, and other times, startlingly brilliant, radiant, beatific. Her vocals chanted against the lines and pathways of exploration, springing and cajoling, effortless and trickling along the foundations of their exquisite kingdom, proffering remnants, shards and slivers of its grand nobility, its regal stature. When they arrived upon its borders, shuffled into the cold breeze, into the glacier’s glamor, she unfolded further, breathed warmth and reverie into a sovereignty firmly encased into the bounty of her heart, always eager to share the hostilities, the quandaries, the mysteries and enigmas of the ethereal earth. “Here we are!” A honeyed gaze fixated towards the other femme, a gallant smile crossing over enlightened features. “Is there anything you wish to see first? We have the lake, the hot springs, caves and mountain peaks – unless you long to explore on your own?” A sprite’s bounty, dazzling and complex, tilting her cranium in avid curiosity, yearning to see which Tyra would pick – if she chose to follow the ambitious, stalwart, valorous stage of the sylph’s angelic gaits, or if she burst from the seams, into her own void, exploring and venturing into a roused state.


[@[Tyra] Anyone is welcome!]