The unknown stretched into arched corridors and hesitant gazes; the femme wouldn’t be the first, nor the last, to stare at the vast domain, wonder what crept and emboldened the hides of Helovian creatures. The realm could be an overwhelming bounty, and though laden with riches, with glories, with treasures beyond imagination, there was also treachery, gloom, and heartache nestled between the yards and loams of grandeur and opulence. It took careful outreaches, extended hands, invitations and bestowals of beneficence to guide newfound beasts towards lands; another altogether to provide them with courage, valor, and honor, or the experiences that fused and kindled them towards growth and salvation. What happened to this femme to grant the skittish qualities, the forlorn looks, the traces of uncertainty (and could they be assuaged, mended, stitched back together in droves, in plumes, in feathers of confidence)? A hesitant hello, a bramble of greetings, and the sylph smiled again; fostered good will and benevolence through the columns and pillars of ancient statues and figures, pondered and speculated how best to approach the situation of a shy, reserved being (to spring into her grounds with a fairy song, a trumpeting ditty, a polite strain and wax poetical lyrics over the scenery, the serenity, hope that she followed along with spirited acclaim?), when the rustling of undergrowth ceased the ruminations. Youth, glowing in all of its painted archetypes, raucously demanded a flourish, a finesse of juvenile charms, as Lena watched a stranger press through the thicket, launch over greenery, slide along trunks and boughs. She was an interesting venue of contradictions, delicacy in glassy conjectures and convictions, then like sprigs and fountains of embers, rising from portals of buoyancy – putting even the nymph’s ebullience and jovial to docility.

But she, this Abishia, was well versed in Helovia’s lands, and the fey listened to her stanzas, the descriptions of harems and terrains (how many she’d been to, crossed over for battles, for violence, or for the sprite dabblings of procuring alliances and allegiances, like another world, another time, another place). Perhaps an intense, immense amount of information to calculate and explore, but at the very least, the pale femme seemed subject to the details and particulars, notes of sadness scrambling over the plain. I’ve been alone for a long time, and the nymph knew well of the world of wayfaring wanderers, strangled, suffocated, choked and nurtured by the strands and threads of paradise, swiftly changing each and every day – her grin grew, polished pleasantries and kindness towards a stranger no longer; Liit, destined to scrape into friends, companions, and brethren. The dulcet croons followed, silken and encouraging, strong and uplifting. “A pleasure, Liit and Abishia.” She paused, nodded towards both, gaze riveted back upon the delicate whims and foils of the snow-maiden, posturing her own enchantments. “Though massive, you can always explore at your own pace.” Tilting her head, exposing more niceties, more curiosities, more enigmas and quandaries, secrets buried in the runes and ruins of aurora features, she slipped further into the beauty and grandeur of her own land, offering, proffering, bestowing. “I come from the Aurora Basin – a world of mountains, lakes, and valleys. If you wished, the option to live within its realm is available to you.”