She gloried in the Tallsun heights, maneuvering and motioning past wallowing mountains and opulent peaks, whispering in the softening winds, humming in the illustrious wake of warm, pleasant days. The Songbird kept herself and Imogen busy, shuffling beside squalls and tempests, breathing life and light into divine outreaches, extending a dulcet glimmer, a soft, composed smile, as she laid some tender morsels of flowers at the Reaper’s tomb before marching on, down along lone slopes and pebbled trails. She heard a call in the distance, deep and masculine, combed over the possibilities of the summons, of what seemed inclined towards the borders – but she was a bit too far to make it there in a timely fashion, stretched across the region with herbs in her mouth and triumph in her chest, yet, confirmed with a nod towards her beloved kitsune, and away they wandered, driven down into the valley by curiosity.
 
They crossed at a fine pace, brisk and jubilant, enjoying the patterns of the breeze courting her hide; rustling over the scarred skin, then kissing the unblemished hairs, rising and falling with the time, the power of hours, minutes, seconds lapsing into her chest as she pushed her way across the grounds, lighter than air, flying, flying, flying without wings, conjuring one song after another under her breath, smiling when it was all gilded, all golden, all reverent.
 
Her journey was much later than the others; her gaze swept to three as she approached, two of them completely, wholly familiar, and the third likely belonging to the stranger who’d rang for them, waiting at their Sentinel aperture. To Tiamat and Wessex she gave delighted grins, extending her amiability, her regal fortitude, her mass of nobility in the wake of inquiry, listening as the sea-girl extended her well-wishes to the stag. She lowered her head, dipping it in polite regards, before realizing she still had several plants tucked across her lips, and placed them on the ground, Imogen standing beside them as guard. “Greetings! I’m Lena, one of the Time Menders here.” Her voice was kindled in great, grand mellifluousness, fluid and tangible, a song of the earth, elemental and melodic, only dipping in mild interest as the world continued to turn. The nymph’s gaze fell to the bundle at his feet too – and perhaps they were all aligned within the same purpose – which made her heart flutter in ease, in repose, in sanctuary and sanctity.