The nymph didn’t demand, didn’t coil her feathers, laurels, and fig seeds into banners of obligations and gratitude. Her outlook, her view, had been cast so deeply into shadows by an early age, that each step, each motion, each stride away from it was a blessing, a sown, worn conviction she tied neatly around the lace and taffeta of her existence. Benevolence was one of her many gifts and virtues, never receiving it as a child, and she refused to herald its entity, its elegance, its refinery, into debts, beholden frames and figures into masses of her bestial fixations. Some spurned her kindness, laughed, mocked, thought her foolish, thought her naïve (but there was no innocence left, she’d seen, felt, touched too much), and cackled at its beautiful little trinket and sparkle, like the illustrious spirit of a halo cast down into the thorns and branches. Some exalted its presence, extended their own, breathed jubilation and buoyancy along the same light, airy conjectures. Others ignored, pressed away into burrows and caves – and then, there were the few who speculated, wondered, and she offered them the bright grins and illuminated smiles over and over again, restored from the ashes of a phoenix, resurrected and hallowed. A newcomer deserved their place in the sun, their rune thrown and collected into the mysteries, the specious pools, the whirlwind of beauty and purpose, clambering, exploring, wandering into the foreign traces of their unfamiliar kingdom. A stranger merited amiability, tassels of the selfless, for once in their unknown lives, where cretins didn’t cater to their flesh or pinioned, beckoning sirens washed over the rampant sea of their memories. Lena was entirely unaware of Iyana’s journey, but gave, gave, and gave a thousand times over to ensure there was a path offered to her; lined with icicles, glaciers, stone, rubble, and a sanctuary, a haven, where glory spread between lakes and strength. Once, she was granted the same courtesy, and spent part of her life bestowing it upon others.

Acceptance drew near though, and the fairy and vixen listened, piecing together the stitches of a past, of the little snippets given, cherished the glow with an earnest smile, a gentle, tender expression. I grew up in the shadow of the mountains, slinking and curling into the boughs of pockets full of pebbles, springing from the enigmas like the first scribble of a long lost sketch – and Lena nearly told her how’d she grown beneath fir trees and branches, berry bushes and chokecherries, alone, discarded – but the thought scattered quickly away, laid to rest at the bottom of their passing words and whims. She refocused back upon the confirmation of her assertions, of joining her brethren alongside the wake of time and space, light, auroras, bright, dazzling hues beyond imagination and augured sentiments, kept her gaze locked upon the femme beckoning for the clamber of winter again, nodding her head towards the reel of actions, soft murmurs floating into the copse. “Then, follow me!” They whirled, companion and fey, like honeysuckle blooms and fiery credences, a whisper of snowflake pinnacles passing between them, drumming a dance, a dream, through their direction change – towards the Basin, where the world started over and new infernos were forged. Through a laugh, a smile, she rekindled her singsong words amongst the fluttering leaves and embroiled promises, to tell, to explain, the kingdom Iyana was due to enter. “I’ll do my best!”

[I'll make a board for you in the Basin later today and tag you in it! ^_^]