For all the things she was, it appeared Deimos the opposite.  For all her transparent emotions, the ready expressions presented on her face, the leader of the Aurora Basin stood guarded and quiet.  Zyanya had never been good at hiding her thoughts, never been placed in a situation where secrets would benefit her.  Looking toward Deimos, lavender eyes pinned on his face set in stone, she wonders the wisdom in her personality.  The Reaper knew more of Helovia than she, and the wary, secretive countenance may be better suited than the open smiles and awestruck eyes.

The answer to her question is one that does not satisfy her.  There are no specific names, just that her fellow herdmates could use a kind voice and reassuring words.  A pout forms on her small lips as she considers the small hint, thinking of those she had met already.  The vision which immediately jumps out at her is the battered figure of Albrecht, who seemed a grumpy old man, yet he already found a friend in Johnny.  The idea that more of the ragtag family of the Basin could be in a similar situation but without a shoulder to lean upon filled her with a sense of melancholy, one that radiated from her face.

"Thank you, Deimos," the voice small and warm, her floral eyes taking on a blush like spring.  At the very least, the leader of her home did not find her useless, and that gave her a small hope she would find a place within Helovia.

The complement to her dam fills the girl's heart with pride, reflected easily in her face.  Nayelea, the tall pale woman of delicate proportions and wisdom, the mother she admired more than anyone in the world.  While she had faced the same plight as Zyanya, to be a silent flower at the side of a man, her mother had dedicated her life to learning and restoring the lore of their land.  With great effort and bravery, she had claimed social status outside of her mate - something rare in Seren.  A silent nod is all she can manage, feeling the warmth of her mother so close in her memories.

When her eyes focus upon the Reaper once more, she finds the title to be misplaced.  Some light shed upon his features makes him appear young, alive, and Zyanya is nearly taken aback.  The surprise is evident on her face, but she stays respectfully quiet as he makes a request.  Surprise melts into one that is thoughtful, thinking how best to present the lore her mother worked tirelessly to impart on her people, her children, in order to keep the history of their home known.  Seren, the land of Starlight.  "I know them best in the old tongue of my home, but this is the Ballad of Argham."

Timidly, her fragile voice begins to hum a soft melody, trying to sound out the correct note for the tale.  When the melody takes on the right tone, her face takes on a satisfied expression, thinking back to the old tongue of her people.

"Rohs enn ahim no esh ehd,
Neest oom tharl y morn,
Kohl hess strah en hah enn.

Oom wehs ari errn,
Ith lhei ari errn ool scorh,
Narr en Seren ka ehnd ool neest.

Fah neeh y oohd enn ten,
Afah lens ohr afah eil,
Tohm y errn ehm Argham.

Eehs ari fah eiln daih Argham,
Al asah ool Seren,
Enn worh y Argham neest.

Ehsk nesh ool narr,
Ehsk nesh ool neest,
Ehk morn y sian.

Argham fehsk enn loon."

A shy smile paints her lips as she draws the melody to a close with a soft hum, sheepishly looking up from thick, pale lashes from the plot of earth they had been pinned to prior.  "Argham was a famed hero said to be imbued with the starlight of our land, and with that power he laid low a terrible monster which plagued Seren."  The translation is brief, but gave meaning to words he likely would not understand.
""

We've made a fool out of love, when all we want is to be enough
when all we want is to feel enough