the Rift


[OPEN] write down my poems for the few [Festival Storytelling]

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#1
In between the grandeur and opulence of their Orangemoon bliss, the Songbird started her reign again.
 
Like seasons before, she hastened to the mythical opus surrounding her existence – beyond the days of her childhood, and back into the wild thickets of what had once been, of how they’d become more than refugees, of the layers, the history, the sentiments behind the mountain sides, summits, peaks, and glaciers. Tied amidst her sagacity and experience was the rise, the fall, the glory, the triumph, of how the Basin had come to be, an existence younger than some and older than others, of an empire laced and lacquered with controversy, disdain, and supremacy, of chiseled, all-enduring brethren who could always come together to refuel, to renew, to be more than just cold-blooded.
 
She’d tell the world that, again and again and again, until their ears turned her way and listened to the melodies she delivered, prospered, and balanced across the aurora horizon, until the realm understood their methods, their reasons, their myths and tales. Some would inevitably balk and shy away, trusting what they’d heard before, the stigmas, the legends pressed down by those undermined, ruined, or staring in disbelief; others would stand and stay, stray from the confines of what they used to know or remained ignorant to. All along, the Songbird would rustle her harmonies and unrelenting creeds, her singsong smiles and grand, regal enticements, so eventually the Basin would become more than a haunting refrain on the backdrop of greater symphonies – it’d be an opus, a masterpiece, an oeuvre recaptured by fledgling generations.
 
The Mender and her kitsune wound their way along the lake, drifting away from the dancing and fortunes, aligning their cloths and mats so everyone could settle beneath the resolute, unwavering hues and the potent summits, so they could blend into the mystique, into the finery, into the potential for another wonderful telling of stories and sonnets. “I’m Lena, a Time Mender of the Basin,” she spoke into the crowd, all grins and hummingbird stanzas, all pride and beneficence, a picture of elegance and poise, calm, noble composure, carved by the rime, by the days spent beside snow and ice and wonder. Her gaze settled on those yearning to learn; awaiting their call, their appeals, their designs, just as she’d done before. “What would you like to hear?”

[Come listen to some stories! Lena is willing to talk about a whole host of things regarding the Basin, including past wars/invasions, how the Basin came to be, the Time God, Deimos' passing, etc. ^_^]
her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
LENA
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write down my poems for the few [Festival Storytelling] - by Lena - 05-20-2017, 07:18 PM

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