Listless and languid, the flow of safety pervading the essence, the foundation, the notion and sentiments of their wayfaring, wandering, orchestrated and composed her lithe movements. Times of peril claimed the channels of her motions, ruminations, and calculations, past the wicked shrapnel of hurricane debauchery and distant decadence, flowing into the adversary remnants of their ominous beginnings. Were she not so bold, not so valiant, not so honorable or beneficent, she could have been cowering amongst the heathen bulrushes or nefarious outcrops, shrinking and withering in the gloomy shadows, shuddering from quartet strings bursting against her eardrums. Instead, she’d scraped, molded and searched along the Threshold again, like a foreign memory a mere season ago, hoping for resurgence and renewal, when now, in the daunting supremacy of bedlam, of chaos, not stirred by their own animosity, she simply pressed for rescue. Salvaged from the wreckage of havoc, from the formidable, intimidating twilight clawing at their figures, had been two mares, one hornless, the other shaped with a sword, liberated from the confusion, the calamity, the acrimony gliding amongst their ravaged coils. Sadly, bitterly, rancorously, the songbird knew she could only offer pithy, concise knowledge on the musings of the land and its torn frame, for she’d seen darkness building, brewing, flowing along the Steppe first, caustic and callous, unbidden and rising, and then, entombed within Kahlua, a wondrous friend pushed and mauled until she’d been altered, morphed, into some unknown beast. Only when she’d triggered her song, when she’d unleashed strains, ditties, melodies, dreams and aria strings, had the Glazier become the companion she’d once known.

So she hummed and hymned amongst the rapid, shifting corridors, attempted to keep the vicious world at bay, trumpeting the vivid, mellifluous flow of soothing, assuaging benevolence, struggling to shatter the art of demise from coming too close to their nomadic souls. As they neared the sanction of sanctuary, her eyes traced the subtle hole in the ground, open, wide, an expanse destined to hold them deep into its belly, swallowing, consuming, devouring, and sheltering. Deep into the fathoms, where herds gathered and dwelled, united by zealous, unholy, malevolent circumstance, christened by patrons, saints and gods, consecrated by a wise angel. Could it contain so many occupants, allow them to slink and slither into its vessel, hallowed and hollowed, bravely sculpted into the storm? Mulling over the perplexing notions spread amongst their veil, she turned and smiled to the two femmes following her, cherishing the few, precious moments of safety, of luxury, of protection, before opulence became smothered over and over again. “Here we are!” The ivory kitsune gave a twirl to signify the grand gesture, bobbing her head in time to the chords Lena drummed from the breathless murmurs and croons unearthed in her lungs. Beast and nymph expected queries from the duo, and amidst the grandiose train of bafflement and bewilderment, she’d do her best to explain – but even she’d been left in the dark, stepping in the trills of truth when it sparked and ignited in front of her.

@[Elsiyum] @[Mermaid]