A heart carved from adversity shown in the brilliance, the chords, in light and luminescence even as the world dimmed around them. Ethereal air, instead of fear, instead of fright, instead of anxiety, there was power brimming beyond the daunting flow of toxins, gilded croons and exalted tunes, determination, resolution, perseverance enlightened again and again, renewed and prosperous. Though she’d wandered, pulsed and pulled across the flow of midnight tresses and irreverent scales, embarked upon stones of murky decibels and the haunting, poignant remains of laments and dirges, she’d also crossed over wires of earth and rubble to cast aside the gloom, the murk, the deceit and poison. Even now, in the halls of their destined sanctuary, where she glowed and its walls shimmered back, she searched for divine truth, for an essence, for a sign, for an entity flowing through her veins, for information to prolong mending, assuaging, tending to the needs of the world around her. The songbird and kitsune had been blessed, not taken into the threads, the grasp, the strands of venom and its scraping aspirations, and they grew ever more committed to plucking away the chords of damnation from the scarred, from the taken. So they followed the runes, the paintings, the tapestries, the canvases of the unknown, reaching towards the fathoms and seeking the stars, when the fountains, brewing, bubbling, foaming in their elegant mirth, in their whimsical turns (for what did they have to fear, crystalline springs sought by renegades), announced proclamations. Lena, uttered a light gasp, before taking in the other creatures (of the winged and desert, she yearned to avoid their eyes) twisting and conversing in the midst, and she struggled to listen to the formations of the God immersed in the brooding depths. A manifestation of the earth, a deity murmuring truths, knowledge, information to pass towards her kin? These waters carry my blessing. All those who drink them will be purified…, and while her song had restored Kahlua, the nature of the cursings, of the distortions, she had no idea if it could mend each and every somber soul. This wonderful divinity, however, seemed urgent to provide them with an alternative means – one she intended to use, assist, and proclaim towards those she passed. Roaming closer, she dipped her head towards the rippling form within the cascading labyrinth, posturing arias and strains for his gallant acts. “Thank you.” She bowed, invoked and appealed, then backed away, in awe, in reverence, of the possibilities and gifts granted in the time of sin and nefarious whims.