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05-06-2017, 06:27 PM
Gallant, bright, and free, heart jubilant, smile rendered, the Songbird and her kitsune continued on their journey to deliver messages of hope and celebration, pacing amidst the undergrowth of glory and strength, poignantly valiant, body outlined in grace, in regality, in formidable persistence despite the ongoing chaos entrenching their world. She was diligent precision on the banks of bedlam, drifting in and out of stone and ruins, soul and essence intent on her presumed mission, granted a task she had no intention of failing; incandescent all the while, providing tradition, ensuring history stayed alive, breathing, consuming. Rikyn traversed beside her, providing her with a duty but not sending her alone on the mission (which, truthfully, she would have done with faith and credence regardless, a blossomed flower reaching towards the sun), and while she proffered warm, tender sentiments and silly nothings, the excitement sizzled beneath her skin. The sun flared across her pelt, and the ability to race across the heavens to ensure the world knew of the Basin’s triumphs all over again encouraged her onward and upward. The sand didn’t spoil her attempts – for no sooner had they reached the border (the towering walls, the island format, a blockage for anyone who dared trespass), the leaflets in Imogen’s mouth unspoiled except for the occasional blemish from an unchecked fang, she ceased all movement, breathed a sigh of relief. Her composure was absolute, a sketch, an outline, a detailed sculpture of peace and tranquility, the message of their intentions loud and clear – not a threat, not a warning, not an ultimatum, but a measure of good will, faith, and an offering of celebration. The Mender inhaled, then exuded a beautiful harmony, calling for anyone intrigued to come forth and hear of their invitations. [Stopping at the Throat borders to invite everyone to the upcoming Basin festival, starting May 8th!] her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love LENA |
@Rikyn
