Ciceron had come to her earlier that morning, asking her to visit the Threshold; what would have been a day spent lounging in the buttery yellow sun like a great feasted feline, one of her few true breaks as of late where having nothing on her agenda felt like a benediction, had turned into a miserable slog through muddy forestland and harsh rain. For the first portion of her journey an oppressive sultry heat had kept her in the shade, each breath hot and weighty, but as she drew further east toward clouds foreboding and tumultuous the heavens broke open and spilled their contents like a split egg along the skillet. Its intensity built quickly and now it thrashed furiously against the earth, pelting it with frigid assault; even beneath the trees she is not spared, soaked to the bone, shivering as the temperature plummets as rapidly as the deluge. The ground is uncomfortably giving beneath her feet, squishing cold like rotted innards.

Lighting flashes overheard and reveals for a heartbeat the distant shapes of others in monochromatic shades of blue-amethyst, their features stark and hollow in the blaze of electric light. Their voices can be heard over a slumberous answering growl of thunder, drawing her through the squall to take cover with them beneath a tree that, finally, despite being stout is wide enough to offer, through its dense foliage, a sanctuary. The relief from the pressure of the stinging rain is felt immediately by the grounded pegasus and she sighs pleasurably, moving closer to the fat sable trunk in the middle of the gathering. Holding her good wing out over her head to act as an umbrella has kept her mane and face relatively dry, but the rest of her is sopping.

"Hi. Sorry," she says, expression a tad sheepish from beneath her own wing, checking the three of them out as she does so. An interesting assortment of folk in a varied array of manifest. Merida, emerald eyes and tresses like pale cornsilk, the apotheosis of idol summer beauty. Ilios, a strong ashen stag with features that seemed suspiciously familiar to her. Nuray, occult and slender sphinx draped in delicate gold filigree. "This is where I say I am Imonada." Pause. "Of Hidden Falls."